#I think I know how to make reference to this

[toothfa-1-ry]

WON'T YOU HOLD ME, CONSOLE ME ?

You don't expect your boyfriend to hold you or console you when you find out your pregnant, but you also didnt expect him to leave you without a trace either

Has no correlation to the other preg!reader fic i posted !!

GENRE: angst

PAIRING: Choi su-bong x preg!reader

"Fuck" thanos groans with his head thrown back, his hands covering his face while he steps away from you

Your hold around your stomach tightens as you don't look up, keeping your gaze at the ground

"I thought you were on that shitty pill?" Thanos glanced at you before letting out a prolonged sigh

"You know that it doesn't mean a hundred percent protection" you argue, eyebrows furrowing slightly "it's not my fault! You were the one who-"

"I know geez!"

"Then why are you getting so agitated!"

"Because" thanos spluttered "because this is a kid we're talking about"

You pause, not being able to think of anything to say back, instead retreating your eyes back at your stomach

"And it's my fucking kid. Mine" thanos points at himself in the chest

"Is that why your mad?" You hate the way your voice trembles "because it's your kid and not some random bastards on the street?"

"Watch your mouth" thanos snarls "you know it's not like that, do you want me to say that it is?"

"Ah fuck" your voice a few ratios higher than it usually was, you could feel the lump in your throat forming

Thanos sighs again, his eyes softening as he glances your face and your stomach

"Aish your fucking kidding me man, your the one who started arguing first" he grumbles annoyed, but approaches you with his arms open anyways

You push against his hold at first, anger still flaring inside of you but you end up giving in pretty fast, so desperately wanting to be held

"Are the pregnancy symptoms already kicking in?" Thanos asked while pulling your head to rest in his shoulders "what a pain" muttering under his breath

"You asshole" you sob while your hands ball into a fist

"Hey your carrying the asshole's kid, i don't think your one to speak" thanos adds in quickly, frowning "Don't make this harder than it already is"

Despite Thanos holding you in his arms, you hit him with your balled fist, your face streaming with tears

"Hey stop" thanos frowns "stop before I seriously get mad" he grips your hand "im not mad right now, but if you don't stop i will"

You sniffle softly, your head laying on his chest as his eyebrows are still furrowed with concern over the recent news of your pregnancy

"What are we gonna do?" You ask amidst sniffles

Thanos allows you to lean against him, staring at the wall of the cramped room the both of you lived in

"I dont know" he mutters "we could go to the hospital? Try for a..." his voice trails off. You knew what he was referring to

This just makes your sniffles louden even more causing him to inwardly groan, he never knew how to handle emotions as such, most of the time just shutting up and holding you or something along that line but that didn't seem to be the brightest thing to do and even Thanos knew that

"Su-bong" you whisper, your hands snaking around his waist, pressing yourself closer towards him as if to shield yourself

Thanos winces softly when he hears you call his real name, he always winces when he hears his real name.

He let's out a rough grunt of acknowledgement "What?"

"I don't think I want a abortion"

"Well fuck baby, we can't afford it either way. It was stupid of me to suggest" he lazily responds, while resting his face above your head

"We can't afford to raise it too" you murmer causing Thanos to shift uncomfortably

"I know" he snorts "fuck"

"So what will we do?"

Thanos hears the imploring tone of your voice. Most of the time he was the one asking you that question. In your relationship you were the one who took on the role of the logical one, but here you were, asking Thanos something that you both didn't know the answer to

"I'll-" thanos breathed "I'll figure something out"

You look up at him, moving your face away from his chest, your eyes pleading

"You sure you want the kid?" You ask him

"Your already pregnant anyways, i can't do anything about it"

"This isn't a joke" you retort loudly

"Your the one who said you don't want an abortion!" Thanos also raises his voice

"We can't afford it anyways you idiot!"

"Well damn, it's like i didn't just fucking say that like 5 seconds ago" he thundered which immediately cause you to tear up again

Thanos tilts his head down, pressing his lips into a tight straight line, regretting his actions almost immediately

"Hey" his voice rough and deep as he called out to you "look at me"

He purses his lips when he sees you still refusing to face him, your hands hiding your face

"Hey" he says more softly as he moves your hand away from your face "im sorry okay, cmon just look at me"

Thanos leans his head against yours while he clasps his hand around yours

"I'll figure something out" he raspily breathed out "I'll get a day job, fuck it baby, I'll get 2 day jobs"

You had no strength to talk back, choosing to silently nod

Thanos kisses your forehead while he wipes your tears away

"I said I'll figure something out, so stop your damn crying okay?" He says playfully, in an attempt to stop you from crying

You nodd slowly, causing him to smile tightly

he kneels down, facing your stomach "im sure the baby wouldn't want to hear his mom cry huh?" He announces as if though he was talking to the baby

He looks up to your face to see your face, trying to make you laugh or smile or anything at all

"You better not be a shit ass kid" thanos pokes your stomach softly "cause of you, your mom's hormones are going wild already"

"Asshole" you breathed with a laugh "im crying cause of you, fucking prick"

Thanos grins as he looks up to you, standing up he grabs your hand

"I swear" he picks your hands up, placing a soft kiss "ill figure something out for the three of us"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Finding a job was hard

Especially as a retired rapper who basically got fucking conned by some asshole on the internet

Fucking bitch

Thanos stays up awake, leaning against the wall of the trashy one room so called apartment that you both lived in.

He inhales his cyan blue vape while eyeing the cigarette burn marks that painted the wall

His head thuds against the dirty peeling wallpaper, while you layed asleep on the floor across him, only a thin blanket covering your body

A soft smile graces his features when he notices the slight swell of your stomach

That's his kid right there, that's the mother of his child right there

Thanos couldn't afford to marry your right now, he wishes he could.

Fucking hell, he couldn't even afford a shitty ring let alone a ring that you actually deserved, he'd marry you with a plastic bottle seal if he could but he knew that you deserved more,

Damn, you deserve so much better than him, so much more than what he could give you

The kid in your stomach deserved better too. His kid

Thanos's smile fades away, leaving behind a grimace when he notices that the blanket doesn't fully cover your body, noticing the colour far beyond faded and the material already thinning out

He immediately unzips his jacket, going forward to place it above your body. It was the least that he could do

Suddenly, a piece of paper falls out of the pocket, he notices it as the card from the strange man earlier

Just thinking about it pissed him off, he recieved more slaps than money

Holding the card in his hand, he turns it over, mouthing the number behind the card, he swallows nervously unlike him while contemplating whether it was worth calling

Slowly typing in the digits in his phone he places his device on his ear, holding his breath as the phone rings

Once, twice, the phone continues to ring, thrice, now going four times

Thanos sighs, bringing the phone down, ready to press cancel when suddenly

"In order to sign up to play the game, please submit your name and date of birth"

Thanos breathes sharply, his finger wavering above the cancel button while your sleeping figure which remained unaware of what raced through your boyfriend's head

"Fuck" thanos curses, he glances at you

Thanos's hands trembled as he filled in his details, his pupils dilated, his mouth dried.

He knew what you'd say if you were awake, scolding him for being so naive and believing but you didn't meet that strange man in the grey suit did you?

He bites his lips when he reads the address and time of where he was suppose to go, noticing that the last date of entering the so called games was the current date

"I wont be gone for long" he mutters softly as he stands up, placing a kiss on your cheek before heading towards the door

He puts his old shoes on, the only branded ones he had left from back in his rapper days, the one who had picked for him, the only pair he didn't sell

He slips outside quietly, before sparring you one last glance

"Wait for me, just for a little bit" he whispered with a faint smile though it didnt quite didn't reach his eyes

He glances from your face to your stomach "your dad will be back with shit ton of money, i'll make sure you both live well"

He pauses before closing the door, contemplating for a minute, it felt so wrong to leave just like that,

He didn't want to go, it felt like the wrong thing to do but he steps out of the house anyway

"Take care of your mom when I'm gone"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

The next morning, you wake up warmer than you usually do, but you can't ignore the ever so persistent pounding of your heart

Your heart feels heavier than usual too

Noticing your boyfriend's jacket wrapped around you, you slowly wake up, looking for him

You look for him for the entire day,

it soon turns into 2 days and 2 days soon turn into 2 weeks

The bruise you recieved earlier that day after being chased down the street by some debt collectors begun to sting.

They didn't care whether you were pregnant or not, they just wanted the money you had borrowed from them back

And then that's when it hits you

When your standing on top cold floor of, with only your boyfriend's jacket left as a reminder of him,

He left.

He left without saying anything, without leaving even a single trace, he left not even with a single goodbye

He left you.

Your hand trails to your stomach.

He left the both of you

You sink down, legs giving out as your body trembles, you lie on the wilting cot that served as a place of comfort, sobbing, shrieking, crying his name out

Screaming anything that would have send him running towards you,

But no one comes.

Unbeknownst to you, at the very same time you fall on the ground, thanos's cold body is lifted up from the cold bathroom floor and packed into black coloured coffin

His eyes still wide open, his entire body covered in his own blood

When the guards strip his clothes away, they find something in his pocket

A plastic ring

it couldn't have been worth much, maybe from a kids toy, it left the guards puzzled

What would a person like Thanos be doing with a plastic ring in his pocket?

Perhaps you would understand it better

After all, he held you, consoled you. That prick even left you without a single trace

[jinxyjinxer]

˗ˏˋ MEAN ˎˊ˗ torturing you is their hobby

⟢ characters : Ambessa Medarda, Sevika

⟢ warnings : fem!reader, wlw, mean!dom!characters (seperate), implied fingering, implied squirting, mommy kink, use of vibrator, passing out, strap-on, usage of whore, degrading, choking, strap gets referred to as dick

˗ˏˋ AMBESSA MEDARDA ˎˊ˗

"You didn't really think I'd be done with you after you only came once, now did you?", she snickered when she saw you flinch and try to inch away from her calloused fingers after pounding them into your core once again after having made you cum on her digits for the first time of the night.

"Oh, baby girl, don't fight against it. The more you try to get away, the more I just enjoy all of this even more. Be my good girl and let mommy take care of you", she mused, but her words fell onto deaf ears. One orgasm alone had you overstimulated like a dozen would, so naturally you took her large wrist into your much smaller palm, trying to push her hand away from your sensitive mounds.

Even when she told you to stop squirming so much, you didn't even consider letting her have her way for even a second. Everything was too much, your body and sheets were already a mess soaked with your squirt and sweat, you didn't think you could take another orgasm again.

"That's it. You want me to be mean? Then I'll be mean", she suddenly snapped from your antics, lifting you up effortlessly with her immense strength and placing you across her lap as she sat down on the edge of the bed. With one hand she held both of your wrists behind your back while the other one grabbed for something in a box under the bed — a vibrator.

Needless to say that for the next the gods know how long you've been held in this position, your clit getting stimulated by the vibrating toy, crying and begging for her to have mercy on you until you finally passed out from exhaustion. "At least you're compliant now."

˗ˏˋ SEVIKA ˎˊ˗

"Please, no! I'm so sorry Sevi-!", you tried to apologise to your girlfriend when you found yourself getting dragged into your shared room, getting put onto all fours, hands and legs soon tied together so you couldn't move at all before felling her slam the biggest strap on she could find into your unprepared cunt, making you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain.

"You should have thought about disrespecting me before begging for my forgiveness", she grunted as she dragged the silicone toy out of your cunt only to thrust it into you again with a brutal, almost inhuman force, her anger with you evident in her voice as well as her movements as she continued penetrating the life out of you.

"Sevika please this, Sevika please that", she mocked you, imitating your voice as she did so. "Just shut the fuck up and take your punishment like the fucking whore you are", she growled, and at the same time the tip of the toy hit your cervix brutally, making you scream her name for everyone in all of Zaun to hear.

One of her large hands loosened its grip to instead take a fist full of your hair between her fingers, pulling harshly on your scalp so you'd arch your back nicely for her to ravage you like an animal. Her other hand now found its way around your neck, at first only stroking your skin and making your breath hitch in anticipation before her fingers closed around your throat, restricting the air flowing into your lungs, your mind soon getting all foggy.

"You've got two options now. Either you pass out or you'll cream around this dick like the fucking whore you are. Only once you've come for me, I am willing to maybe forgive you", she whispered into your ear, the sensation of the strap penetrating your deepest insides and her hand choking you mixed with her voice in your ear making you come on the spot.

[tlaquetzqui]

What flattery could Sauron and the Ring use to manipulate him that wouldn’t just get met with “duh, I know”, though? It couldn’t even use “everyone will know how great you are” because Sonic would say “Oh they will soon enough without your help, ✌️Precious✌️, I just haven’t bothered showing them.” (I feel it’s clear Sonic would make air quotes every time he refers to the Ring by Mairon’s name.)

The only tack I can think of Sauron being able to take is “defeating me wouldn’t really count unless you give me my Ring”. Which Sauron might not be childish enough to expect—does he seem like the kind of person who would anticipate Goku healing Cell to make the final fight better?

Also…“Hey what do you say, Gwaihir, Gandalf (love the wardrobe upgrade by the way, buddy): want to help the Knight of the Wind ride again?” It’s not like this would be his first rodeo with a dark lord. The desire to prevent things and people from passing away, Sauron’s main trap for both Elves and Men, is even involved! (“Sounds pretty lame!”)

Sonic the Hedgehog (sustained speed of 767 MPH) could have made the journey from the Shire to Mount Doom (1718.5 miles) in just over two hours. But also he famously loves rings, so he almost assuredly would have found the thrall of the Ring far too powerful to resist. Tails would have had to shoot him

[miyukisu]

A Trace of Body Paint .ᐟ

❤︎ Request | He's learning anatomy for his art class—you'll help him, right? 3.1k wc ╰ feat. artist!shidou ryusei (bllk) x afab!reader

tags - lots of tension and build up at first, p*rn with plot, college au, artist! shidou, he and reader are both experienced, FILTHY, dirty talk, unprotected smeggs, rough smeggs, face f*cking, creampies, overstim, no y/n, not beta read

MEGA MASTERLIST

minors do not interact

"Yeah! I'll see you next week for my next assignment. Okay?"

Yeah right... next week...

You didn't peg Shidou as the type to flake on you, especially since he was the one who needed something from you. At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt, then your mind wandered to impossible territory.

Maybe he found a different person to model for him.

Maybe you weren't good enough a model and he was getting low marks because of you...

But wouldn't that be his fault?

Maybe... he dropped out of class?

Every possibility crossed your mind, but not once did you think of actually asking him, "Hey, what's up with not calling me anymore to model for your art class? You know... THE THING WE DO WEEKLY?"

But pride does get the best of us. You are no different. Either the world ends or he grovels at your feet for ghosting you like that. Anyway, why did you care so much?

Shidou Ryusei only asked you to model for him for a few weeks for an art course he was taking. It just so happens you two were close and your schedules matched (and he thought you were really pretty). In exchange, he'd treat you after every drawing session. Ordinary stuff—that was until you slowly started to develop feelings for him.

There was something about the way he looked at you as he studied every minute detail—making sure they were all transferred to paper. He made you feel so... beautiful in ways you've never realized before. But most of all, you fell for such a creative and passionate spirit.

You were snapped out of your thoughts upon spotting a familiar hairdo across the quad. Your eyes met and you made sure not to waste this opportunity—glaring at him, making sure he knew how much he had pissed you off. Shidou looked left and right, possibly trying to find a way out of it. But maybe the intensity in your eyes worked because before you knew it—he was making his way to you.

"Hey..."

"Really? That's all you have to say after ignoring the texts I sent last week?"

"Eh... must've missed them," he lied.

"What about the time you saw me near your building? You missed me standing a meter away from you?"

"Guess so," he lied again.

His nonchalance made you want to rip your hair out. This hot-and-cold treatment was driving you up the wall. It was clear with the exasperated look on your face.

Though, his eyes never left yours—those same damn eyes that stared at you for hours. It was like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't.

"Why did you even walk over here?"

He sighed like he didn't gave a shit. "You looked like you were about to murder me."

"Shouldn't you be running away then?" you countered. Shidou simply shrugged. "I'm not sure either."

You were about to unleash your fury, but he sighed loudly before continuing. "Fuck... fine. I've been avoiding you."

"Yes. I can clearly see that. The question is—why?"

"Look. I've been getting the highest scores in class because I have the luxury to have an actual person model for me... while everyone else relies on references on the internet or whatever," he explains. "But now... it's..."

"Isn't that a good thing then?" you asked—confused by his reasoning, but even more confused by his change in demeanor.

He shook his head. "Nah... it's just... I won't be needing you anymore."

Your jaw dropped. He said it so casually like it didn't just left a gaping hole in your chest.

"I mean," he backtracked. "We're gonna start drawing nude figures soon, so either you're willing to strip for me or—"

You cut him off. "Are you gonna draw my face with it?"

"Eh, all I need to draw now is the body since we're done with portraits and—"

You cut him off again. "Then draw me."

"Wha—" Shidou was cut off once more. "You heard me. Draw me," you say, as if challenging him.

It earns a hearty laugh from him—one you haven't heard in a while. "You're saying you're gonna stand butt naked in front of me while I stare at you for an hour or two? You know how that sounds, right?"

"It sounds like you're gonna stare at me butt naked for an hour or two."

You were so shameless, he thought. But it was one of the many things he liked about you. He chuckled, amused by the way things turned. Well... what kind of artist would he be to turn down such an enticing muse?

Shidou let out a low whistle as soon as the last article of clothing met the floor. You used to do these drawing sessions in the library—when all he had to observe from you were innocent things like your eyes, your hands, your hair, and so on.

But now that you have to bare everything to him, you figured the only place to do it was at his dorm. It was like what you imagined: cluttered but artsy enough that you could let it pass.

You stood awkwardly in the middle, feeling a bit chilly with nothing to protect you. But you posed, placing a hand on your hip while looking off to the side. That way, there wouldn't be any awkward eye contact.

Shidou sat down on a stool and quickly got to drawing. He said nothing as his eyes constantly flitted between the paper and your body.

The first few minutes in—you became hyperaware of everything. The fact that he was seeing absolutely everything. The absurdity of this entire situation. But most of all, the way your body was reacting to his gaze.

From your peripheral, you could see his gaze linger a bit too long at times. He'd bite his lower lip every so often and it made you feel conscious. Was he doing that because he could see your nipples hardening due to the temperature? Maybe he noticed the way you'd subtly rub your thighs together?

Whatever it was—it had him clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable.

Around 15 minutes pass, until he finally spoke. "Feeling tired yet?" he asked without looking up from his paper. You figured he was applying the final touches at this point.

"Yeah. A bit."

He hummed in response. "Get comfortable on my bed then."

"What? On your bed? Now?"

Shidou looked up from his paper. At this point both of you were desensitized by your nakedness (or so you thought). "Yes. Now. I have to draw you in at least 3 poses."

Three?

You gulped. But, once more, pride creeps up. You can't just challenge him to draw you naked so boldly—only for you to back down now. You gathered yourself and sat on his bed which was only a few steps away.

"Go on. You can get comfortable," he encouraged.

So you did. You lied down on your side, propping your head up on your hand. The scene that had unfolded reminded you of that one Titanic scene: Rose sprawled out for Jack to draw.

Knowing that, the moment felt too intimate. But you sucked it up... even though there was an unwanted wetness forming at your core.

Shidou shifted in his seat again, lowering his paper on his lap. "Alright, keep that position," he said, a bit strained.

In this position, you couldn't look off to the side. Your only option for the next few minutes was the wall behind him or Shidou himself.

At some point, your eyes met. There was something in his eyes you've never seen before. It wasn't the usual focus he had; it was something else. Something more intense.

But the 2nd pose passes soon enough and you were down to your last.

"What should I do now?"

He sighed, looking over his current sketches. "Lemme think. I'm having a hard time getting the details right."

"Maybe it's because you're sitting so far away," you commented—not thinking about what it implied.

His eyes zeroed in on you again—caught by your words. You want him to come closer with you like that and him slowly losing his composure? You were playing a dangerous game and you had no idea yet.

Shidou finally stood up from his chair, walking over to the bed. You weren't sure if it was just your imagination, but he was hard. His length strained against his fitted pants. The sight had your mouth watering.

He sat down beside you, eyes never leaving yours. The atmosphere seemed charged with the way you two found yourselves slowly leaning into each other.

"You look great," he whispered. It was something he always said in these sessions. It was a rather simple compliment. But it held more weight now.

"Thanks," you meekly responded. Neither of you realized how fast he inched towards you. His lips were a breath away. You showed no signs of backing away, so he went in.

He pressed his lips on to yours. The kiss felt hungry—needy almost—like he was fighting off this urge for so long. Before you knew it, his weight pushed you down on the softness of his bed. His scent enveloped every sense, clouding your judgement.

Shidou pulled away, breathless. "Pose like this."

He sat upright, eyes raking over your body. This time, he didn't hide the way his gaze would linger on certain parts. His hands ran down your legs, admiring the softness of your skin.

Then, without warning, he pried your legs open. But you didn't stop him. His pink irises trailed down to your core, seeing how wet you've gotten. Shidou thought he was drooling.

"Fuck... I wish I could draw this."

You feel your chest tightening. "Why not?"

"And let everyone see this?" his fingers ghosted over the skin of your inner thigh. "No chance in hell. I want to be the only one to appreciate my muse."

He let his thumb swipe through your folds softly before pressing lightly into your clit, earning a mewl from you. He kept circling the sensitive nub as if in a trance.

"I know what I want the last pose to be," he says. You moan a little louder as he rubs your clit faster. "Want your last pose to be you all fucked out... think you can do that?"

Words got caught in your throat. But it hardly mattered. It didn't seem like he'd take 'no' for an answer anyway.

Things escalated quickly because you soon found his finger plunging in and out of your quivering hole. He made sure to curve it in a way—relentlessly hitting that gummy spot on your walls.

He added another finger, wanting to hear more of your breathless moans reverberating throughout his room. To hell with it if his neighbors heard. This was music—it was art in its purest form.

"Shit... might just cum in my pants from this." He almost did after you clenched down on his fingers, cumming for the first time today.

Even as you coat his digits with your essence, he keeps pushing his fingers in and out until the fluttering died down a bit. He pulled his sticky fingers out before having a taste, savoring every last bit.

He made quick work of his belt, pulling down his pants and letting his member out. Your eyes widened. Not only was his size impressive, but his tip was incredibly swollen and leaky—like he couldn't wait anymore.

Shidou exhaled deeply, feeling the chill of his room brush over the sensitive length. He locked eyes with you again. "Care to take care of me a bit? My hand hurts from all that drawing... and... well, you know what else."

Normally, you'd bite back at his teasing. But your mind was fuzzy. All you could do was wrap your fingers around his length, slowly tugging it at first. The pleasure he felt after being so hard for so long took the strength from him. He almost fell on top of you if it weren't for his thick arms supporting him from either side of you.

"C'mon... do it fucking faster," he ordered. You obeyed—jerking him off as fast as you can without hurting him. It wasn't long before his own hand wrapped around yours as he continued to fuck into your fist. Next thing you knew—hot ropes of cum painted your stomach.

Even he was in a daze as he observed a part of him stained you in such an intimate way. He slowly leaned in, his breath fanning your face. "Hey, can I paint you like this? You look even better with my cum all over you."

You let go of his semi-hard member, slowly tracing his muscles up until you cupped his cheek. Gently, you pulled him down for a searing kiss. It was more than enough for him to know that you too wanted more.

He became rougher—biting your lip and fighting your tongue for dominance. As you pulled away for air, Shidou moved quickly to straddle your upper body. He shamelessly took his cock and slapped it against your lips a couple of times.

"Gonna have to help me get hard again, sweets. Help me out, won't you?"

Though he didn't really give you time to respond as he invaded your mouth inch by inch. One hand held the headboard while the other supported your head. He rolled his hips slowly, gauging how much you can take in at a time.

But, clearly, he underestimated you when you gripped his hips and pulled him in yourself. You felt his cock spring back to life steadily. He pulled out his hardened shaft, letting you breathe. It was only now you realized the grin that crossed his face. He was enjoying this way too much.

He went back to hovering over you, his cock bouncing at every move he made. Your body was jelly at this point—not even a bit of resistance as he flipped you over so easily. He licked a long stripe from your lower back up until your nape. The fresh saliva combined with the chilly air made you shudder.

He carelessly lifted up your hips. With your cheek pressed into his pillows and your ass up in the air, he only got harder at the sight. He leaned down to be eye-to-eye with this so-called masterpiece, your cunt.

His nimble fingers toyed around with your soaked folds, chuckling to himself. "Man, I don't think I could ever capture something so damn beautiful."

He gave it a quick lick to test. "Well, unless you let me get familiar with her long enough." Another lick. "Maybe I can capture at least half of its beauty." Another lick. "Don't you think?"

A muffled sound was the only thing he got from you. "Yeah? You're gonna let me get to know her? As an artist, I'm overjoyed right now. Maybe I should show you."

And show he did.

He lapped up at your arousal, tongue licking long stripes each time. Your legs threatened to give out every time he flattened the pink muscle against your twitching hole. It didn't take long before he started darting in and out. Helpless groans filled his small dorm room.

Big calloused hands squeezed the flesh of your ass, making sure you stayed in place for him to enjoy. He was so messy... so so messy. Shidou suckled on your clit—really trying to coax another orgasm from you.

It didn't take much more for you to cum again, but this time all over his mouth. He happily took in everything, reaping the fruits of his labor.

He gave your ass one quick kiss as if to show his thanks. But he wasted no time lining up his painfully erect cock against your entrance. "Fuuuuck, I need to be inside you already or I'm actually going to explode," he muttered.

At first, it was just the tip. But it stretched you out so good already. The needy whine that escaped you was a testament to that. It only made him grip your hips tighter, surely leaving a mark for you to see tomorrow. Carefully, he pushed in more of his length, feeling every bump of your pussy engulf him.

"Shit. This is the stuff."

But he got impatient, shoving in the rest of his length without warning. It was so tight, so warm—too inviting for him to handle. His hands left your hips, opting to find support on the mattress instead. His thick arms caged you as his chest pressed against your back.

He continued to whisper the filthiest things in your ear, kissing your neck occasionally. But for as slow and sensual his voice may seem, his hips snapped with reckless abandon. He wasn't shy about giving you your third and, maybe, fourth orgasm of the day while chasing his own.

"You finally understand why I didn't want to ask you?"

"Yeah... I knew I was gonna end up fucking you real hard."

"But this is so much better than what I imagined."

His words brought you over the edge, cumming again. But the overstimulation rendered you thoughtless. The only thing on your mind was how good he was dicking you down.

"Fuck... Ryu!" you screamed. His grin only grew wider.

"That's it. Scream my fucking name. Let them hear it."

Your wanton moans encouraged him to go faster, mercilessly pistoning into you. It wouldn't be a surprise if you came another time on his cock.

Shidou harshly grabbed your tit, hoisting both of you up into a sitting position. This way, his cock reached even deeper into you. He kneaded your neglected breast while keeping you steady by the waist.

He showed no signs of slowing—even reaching down to play with your clit. A tear was rolling down your face from how sensitive he made you. But he quickly licked the salty tear off of the curve of your cheek.

He whispered softly, "Cum with me."

Just like the obedient muse that you were, you did. You clamped down on him as he shot rope after rope of gooey seed into you. Finally, he slowed down a bit, letting him empty himself in your pulsing cunt.

As you calmed down and he softened, he gently laid you back down on the soft mattress of his bed. He watched as his cum oozed out of you, smirking to himself.

"My best piece of work yet."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note WHAT THE FUCK DID I WRITE DAWG I WAS SO ON EDGE THE WHOLE TIME HELP WHY IS IT SO FILTHY

[gizdathemxel]

CLARIFICATION NEEDED!!!!!

okay when i said “do not put afab/amab/tma/tma in your bio, that is cisgender society’s attempt at knowing your “real” gender” i did NOT meant to undermine the language/discussion that tme/tma was meant to provide!!! i think conversations about transmisogyny are extremely important BUT i also think that they are very very nuanced!!!!!!!!!

my issue with tma/tme is that it’s often used as a quick shortcut to see if a person is a transfem or transmasc and quickly sort the two and also that most online discourse does not rlly account for how transphobia, transmisogyny, and even transandrophobia, exomisia, intersexism, etc interact with each other !!!

@/oncelerfucker described how tme/tma is far more nuanced than a lot of people realized far better than i ever could so i rlly recommend reading their reblog.

tbh bigots do not care at ALL to be precise in their bigotry towards others; they see “person is similar to group i don’t like = i do not like person” and go off. as a member of the african diaspora (1st gen AA), i could make a MILLION posts about how black caribbeans/afrolatinos, black Europeans, etc are NOTHING like me and that i’m better than them (not true btw) and an antiblack racist will not GAF about those distinctions. they see black and their brains short circuit. There ARE distinctions, and they DO matter but they are not as clear cut as we might think! Now obviously there are finer nuances between race that is very separate from gender and sexuality but the general principle applies.

my issue is not inherently the terms tme/tma but rather how quickly they are flattened labels of ONLY identification, rather than bases of discussion. The transmisogyny a trans lesbian experiences may not be the same transmisogyny a straight trans woman experiences, but it makes neither of their transmisogynistic experiences lesser nor will a transmisogynist really bother to make that distinction. That distinction matters, but it shouldn’t be used to say “this person is more privileged than that person”.

i have seen the weird lateral violence that transfems and transmascs pit against each other as some groups say transmascs experience afab privilege (because their femininity is more easily accepted; which is not at all true) and other groups say that transfems experience male privilege/socialization (bc they grew up as male, so they would be privy to that privilege; also not at all true).

Both of these groups are noticing something accurate, but they are making incorrect assumptions about how this social dynamic works and blaming the wrong people. they incorrectly assume that the trans person on the opposite side of them is their enemy, when it’s so obviously not.

tldr (sorry i’m a ranter at heart); tme/tma are not inherently bad terminology, and discussions of transmisogyny (as well as all other forms transphobia and bigotry) function in society and how they affect certain groups of people are EXTREMELY IMPORTANT!!!!! i want to make it super obvious when i say that i am NOT trying to diminish anyone’s oppression or their voices, and im super sorry for the confusion!!! my true issues with tma/tme is how it’s utilized on the internet, rather than actually holding nuanced conversations, i see it flattened into another gender binary, where the supposed space for nuance is instead eaten up by lateral violence* of who is really the evil group of trans people holding us good trans people back from trans liberation. please please please keep having these discussions and please please please keep allowing the space for nuance in an increasingly polarized world.

(i still generally stand by not putting ur agab in ur bio bc i PROMISE u the wrong people are going to use that against u)

*when i say lateral violence, i do not mean actual physical violence but rather the term that refers to groups within similar social status attacking/othering each other. i’m saying that trans people are generally within the same social strata but sometimes we might weaponize the bigotry a certain group of trans people experiences in order to “elevate” ourselves (sidenote: this does not and never will work)

*gripping my hands so hard on a young trans persons shoulders that their bones are about to break*

do not log on to 4chan.com. do not get involved in passing olympics. you will always lose. do not put afab/amab/tma/tme in your bio, that is cisgender society trying to know your “real” gender. you do not exist to please cisgender people. there is no ‘right’ way to be trans. learn your goddamn history, listen to your elders. listen to other disenfranchised groups. listen to intersex people and check yourself for intersexism. listen to trans poc and check yourself for racism. listen to disabled people and check yourself for ableism. be open to learning always. labels are meant to fit you, not the other way around. you are not weird or predatory for simply being attracted to others. you’re fine if you’re not a skinny white twink or a barbie doll. you’re fine if your body is ‘weird’. you’re fine if you don’t have heavy or any dysphoria. it’s okay if you actually don’t want to transition or anything like that. life is worth living at any stage, you deserve to be happy. I SWEAR THAT YOU ARE OKAY!!!!!

[rafesbowbunny]

farm girl!reader watching rafe wrangle up horses with ease…all sweaty…arms big and flexing…now she wants to be manhandled too!!!

— rina੭୧

rinaaaaa !!! i absolutely ADORE this ask and YOUU. omg.

𝜗𝜚farmgirl!reader watches stableboy!rafe handle the horses, then he manhandles her

c!w; mdni !! dom!rafe, farmgirl!reader, some ogling on reader's part (real), heavy flirting, heavyyy petting, fingering, 'unprotected' sex, p in v, squirting lol, creampie technically, rafe refers to reader as 'darl'.

notes; i have a thing for cowboys so this was SO fun to write !

the sun was high, casting a golden sheen over the fields as rafe worked in the paddock. he moved like he belonged there, all confidence and control, the kind of ease that came from years of doing this. the horses didn’t fight him; they seemed to know better.

you leaned against the fence, watching as he wrangled one of the more stubborn mares. his shirt was sticking to his back, damp with sweat, and he’d long since pushed the sleeves up over his forearms.

and god, his arms.

they flexed with every movement, muscles taut as he pulled the rope tight, his hands steady but strong. the mare bucked once, twice, but rafe didn’t falter—just dug his boots into the dirt and held his ground like it was nothing.

you should’ve been watching the horses, maybe even helping, but your eyes were glued to him. his jaw was set, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple and disappearing into the hollow of his throat. the sun caught on his skin, making him look...

your cheeks heated as you realised where your mind had wandered. but damn, the way he handled those ropes, the way he moved like he was made for this, rough and strong and completely in control, it had you thinking things you probably shouldn’t.

like how it’d feel to have those big hands on you, gripping your waist, pulling you close, lifting you like you weighed nothing. the thought hit hard, making your breath hitch as you watched him toss the rope over the post, his chest rising and falling with exertion.

you bit your lip, heat pooling low in your stomach as he wiped a hand across his brow, glancing your way with a lopsided grin. “you just gonna stand there? or you actually gonna help?”

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. the playful teasing in his tone wasn’t helping your state of mind, nor was the way his hair stuck to his forehead or the glint of sweat on his collarbone. your gaze darted away, focusing on the dirt beneath your boots, like that might cool the sudden flush in your cheeks.

“thought you had it under control,” you finally managed, your voice coming out lighter than you intended.

“always do,” he replied, tying off the rope with one quick, efficient pull that made his forearms flex. he turned back toward you, his grin widening like he could see right through your poorly veiled composure.

he walked toward the fence, his strides slow and deliberate, the air between you growing heavier with each step. by the time he stopped in front of you, leaning his elbows on the top rail, you were certain he could hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest.

“what’s the matter?” he asked, voice dipping low. his blue eyes locked on yours, sharp and knowing. “you’re all quiet. t’s not like you.”

“just... watching you work,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice betrayed you, coming out softer than intended.

his brow arched, that teasing smirk tugging at his lips again. “watchin’, huh? you like what you see?”

your stomach flipped, and you tried to play it off with a shrug, but you couldn’t keep your gaze from drifting, his arms, his chest, the way the sweat made his shirt cling just right. you were blatantly staring now, and he knew it.

he straightened up, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over you as he reached out, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. the touch was quick, almost casual, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“careful.” he murmured, his voice like a low rumble of thunder. “keep lookin’ at me like that, and i might start thinkin’ you want somethin’.”

your breath hitched, and for a moment, you were completely still, caught in the weight of his gaze. then, before you could even think of a response, he smirked again, stepping back and tossing the rope over his shoulder.

“better be careful,” he said over his shoulder as he walked back toward the paddock. “wouldn’t want you gettin’ yourself into trouble.”

you stood there, rooted to the spot, your face hot and your heart racing, watching the way his shoulders moved as he walked away. trouble, you thought, your lips twitching into a small, private smile. maybe that’s exactly what you wanted.

you watched him walk away, the easy confidence in his stride making your pulse quicken. but as much as you liked standing there, admiring him from a distance, you weren’t in the mood to just watch anymore.

your gaze flicked toward the barn, the open doorway like an invitation, and an idea took root, bold and reckless, the kind of thing you’d only ever do for him.

you pushed off the fence, the cool grass brushing your boots as you strolled toward the barn with purpose, your heart pounding faster with each step. when you reached the doorway, you slipped of out sight, peering around the corner to make sure rafe was still watching.

he was.

he had one hand on the paddock gate, his head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing as he noticed your movement. his curiosity turned to something darker, more intense, when you reached for the hem of your top and pulled it over your head in one fluid motion.

you let it drop to the floor, right in the door way, highlighted in the soft light spilling through the open door.

rafe froze.

for a moment, the air seemed to still, the weight of his stare heavy enough to pin you in place. then, without a word, he tossed the rope he’d been holding to the ground and started toward you, his long strides eating up the distance in seconds.

“you’re playin’ a dangerous game,” he said, his voice low and rough, his eyes locked on the door as he stopped in front of it.

he stepped into the barn now facing you, the cool shadows enveloping you, and gave him a small, teasing smile. “maybe,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “but i think you like it.”

he didn’t answer, not with words. instead, his hands already reaching for you, the barn door swinging shut behind him with a low creak.

he gripped your waist hungrily as he stared down at your chest, a flimsy white lace bralette being the only thing between his lips and your tits.

"pardon me for stayin' the lord's name in vain but, jesus christ." he breathed, hands rounding your breasts as you slowly stepped back further into the soft hay behind you. he pulled the fabric down, marvelling at the sight of your tits right in front of his face.

he looked into your eyes for a moment and the intoxicated look you were giving him was all he needed to know you wanted exactly what he came in here for.

his lips connected with yours, rafe pushing you into the hay behind you. he followed in suit, looming over with one hand attached to a breast and another cupping your pussy over your bloomers. his lips were soft against your own and your eyebrows cinched together at the feeling of heat pooling in your tummy.

rafe's lips travelled down your neck and your chest, slowly his tongue lapped over your sensitive nipple and you arched into his mouth with a whine. you could feel his mouth quirk into a smug grin but you couldn't care less.

his fingers pressed your folds through the fabric, sending jolts through your body as he began to drag them up and down. you were running a hand through his messy hair when he brought his lips up to yours again, groaning.

you started palming rafe through his jeans, fiddling with the belt buckle confidently to tease him and you could feel his breathing against you grow more ragged. he quickly moved his hand to your hip, then slowly dragged it down to the middle of the waistband of your little shorts.

"stop teasin' ray" you gasped desperately against his mouth, another cocky smirk adorned his lips before he finally slipped his hand past the fabric and thread his fingers through your folds softly. you were practically rutting against his hand as he stroked your sensitive clit.

you moaned against his lips as he continued, now pulling at his belt buckle and jeans zipper, wanting to repay the heaven he was giving you. a single thick finger slipped into your sopping hole sending you into overdrive as your hand stuttered on its way to snaking around his cock.

he scoffed against your lips, satisfied when you finally slipped your hand further down his pants, gripping his cock. you had to hide your shock at the size of him, although you couldn't be that surprised, you were practically being flattened against the hay because of how big the rest of him was.

your eyes rolled back, his fingers flicking your throbbing clit in just the right way, and he grunted into your mouth when you started tugging at him. he stripped his jeans down to his knees to give you better leverage, only making you nearly tear away from his lips to gasp at his huge cock.

he entered another finger into your tight hole, mumbling against your lips about how good his cock was gonna feel between your legs and you hummed in response, mentally dizzy about how it was going to fit. a possessive hand gripped your waist when he finally pulled his fingers away, releasing your hand from his pants too.

"c'mere," he grunted, tearing down your bloomers and panties nearly to your ankles in one strong motion before pulling his hardened cock from his boxers, all angry and dripping in pre-cum. he noticed your open mouthed stare and grinned, darting is tongue between his lips for a second, "don' worry darl', i'll make it fit."

you shuddered at his words, and the way he was holding his shirt up with his teeth now as he slid the head of his cock over you folds teasingly. your thighs were already twitching when he slowly sunk himself in, only partly being able to fit you winced as he started slowly thrusting deeper into you until finally, you were full to the hilt.

"oh god, rafe. i th- you're- you're in my tummy" you whined, your hand brushing over where you could clearly see a huge bulge protruding in your lower stomach as his hips continued to slowly meet yours with every thrust.

he chuckled lowly, a sweet sound making you melt around him, "told you i'd make it fit." he picked up the pace, rocking into you as you sung sweet moans into his ear, his lips connected to your neck leaving sloppy kisses and small hickies you know you won't be able to hide from your parents.

he gripped your hips roughly, your back arching up as he bounced you on his cock. your walls pulsed around him, strangled moans escaping your lips as you realised you were gonna cum so soon already. rafe could feel the fluttering around his cock but only fucked you harder, his tip kissing your cervix deliciously.

your eyes were squeezed shut as you gripped his biceps desperately, feeling the pressure begin to build in your heat. his hand affectionately slipped into the nape of your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while he snapped his hips mercilessly against yours.

"oh my god!" you cursed, your arms grappling around his neck, you swore you were in heaven when rafe groaned into your neck, praising how good your pussy felt around him.

your legs began shaking uncontrollably, a broken sob erupted from your core as hot pleasure coated your body and a stream of wetness soaked rafe's cock.

"fuuck!" rafe groaned out, spilling thick ropes of cum into you, he continued his stuttering thrusts, your tight pussy milking him dry. "you just squirted all over my cock darl', shit." he breathed, grinning from ear to ear, planting a sweaty kiss on your forehead.

taglist ! ; @drewscoquette , @dollyfiles , @holes4rafe , @filthyrafe , @bambiangels , @rafesheaven , @bambrinaa ( pls lmk if you want to be added or removed, i wont mind ! )

[pochaccoups]

facetime — choi seungcheol & yoon jeonghan

pairing — choi seungcheol x yoon jeonghan x f!reader

summary — when three people in a relationship want to fuck but one of them is in a different country, facetime comes in pretty handy.

wc — 4k

warnings — nsfw content minors dni! smut, established polyamorous relationship, threesome (technically), phone sex, butt plugs, anal and vaginal fingering, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, so much dirty talk, soft dom!seungcheol, brat tamer!seungcheol, prone bone, creampie, slight daddy kink, reader referred to as a girl, a lot of ‘cheollie’ and ‘hannie’ sorry but i think they sound cute

author’s note — umm hi can u tell i had so much fun writing this …… this will be part of a poly jeongcheol series i have in the works so pls stay tuned and enjoy !!! :>

seungcheol: just finished up the show, what are you up to?

jeonghan: busy.

Attached is a photo that’s slightly shaky and dimly lit, but Seungcheol can make out every detail of you with Jeonghan’s cock halfway down your throat. 

It takes less than a second for Seungcheol’s caller ID to pop up on Jeonghan’s phone screen, and Jeonghan doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Yah… You know I hate being left out,” is the first thing Seungcheol says. The sound of his deep voice makes you draw your mouth off of Jeonghan.

“Cheollie?” you ask, beaming as you snatch your boyfriend’s phone from his hands so that you can see your other boyfriend through the screen. 

“Hi, pretty,” Seungcheol says, waving. He looks hot, but that’s a perpetual characteristic of his. He hasn’t removed his makeup yet, and his hair, getting longer, is still styled from the show. “Miss me?”

“So much. We both do,” you say with a grin. You make a show of mouthing at Jeonghan’s cock for the camera, sticking out your tongue so you can slap the tip on it, swirling it around, all with a faint mischievous gleam in your eyes at the sound of one boyfriend’s whines and the other’s sulking.

“Yeah? Doesn’t really seem like you do,” Seungcheol says, laying back on a bed that’s way too soft, too cold, too far away. 

“Seungcheollie, you know how needy our girl is-ah,” Jeonghan pipes up, moaning as you wrap your lips around him and bob your head up and down. 

“I do know, and you’re not innocent either, Jeonghan. You miss getting your pretty little ass fucked, don’t you?” 

You worry Jeonghan will bust then and there from the way his cock twitches in your mouth, but fuck was Seungcheol right. It’s why you all prefer to have sex with all three of you present, because at this point having someone missing feels… weird. Not bad. Definitely not. But the absence of a third lover becomes far too apparent.

Right now, you and Jeonghan don’t have much of a choice though. Duty calls, meaning Seungcheol is touring on the other side of the world—has been for the last two weeks and will be for another two weeks. Jeonghan would be with him if it weren’t for his enlistment. Alas, you have Seungcheol’s voice to do what it does best: tell you two exactly what to do. 

“Take all of him, baby, you know you can,” he says, soft and slightly commanding in a way that makes you want to do good just for him, make him proud. And you’ve taken Seungcheol, who’s a little longer and far thicker, all the way down your throat many, many times before that swallowing Jeonghan’s entire length feels like a mere warmup. 

Pride swells through you when your two boyfriends curse above you, filling you with an eagerness to give them more. So while one of your hands holds the phone, albeit shakingly, your other hand pumps the base of Jeonghan’s cock, in rhythm with your mouth as you bob up and down. It’s wet and obscene, the way you lap up the precum that leaks from your boyfriend’s tip only to let it spill from your lips and drool all over him, all over your fingertips. 

Your eyes never break away from Seungcheol, who’s chewing on his bottom lip and staring at you with eyes that are both clouded over with desire and dark with concentration. If you know your boyfriend then he’s thinking of all the things he would do if he was in the same room as you two.

Jeonghan doesn’t expect it when one of your spit-slick fingers creeps down to his ass and traces his hole, and he squirms and cries as you prod at his opening before pushing inside. He’s taken Seungcheol many, many times, too, that your finger should feel like a warmup, but two weeks without his boyfriend’s cock stretching him out is torture, so the slide of your digit in and out is a sweet relief that he’s forgotten. 

You pull your mouth away from him, sitting up on your knees so that you can angle the camera for Seungcheol to watch as your finger dips in, all the way to your knuckle, then back out of Jeonghan’s hole. 

“He’s so whiny today, Cheollie.”

“Mm, more than usual, huh?” he replies, licking his lips, his hand reaching to his crotch to palm at it just a little. He thinks about how his fingers are twice as thick as yours, how Jeonghan would sob if it was his hands inside him. 

“He misses your fat cock,” you say, and Seungcheol feels his sanity jump straight out of his hotel window. You’ve always proven detrimental to his patience and self-control, taking years off of your poor boyfriend’s life with your bratty ways. “Right, Hannie?” you say, right as you pull your finger out of him, grinning as he squirms and curses under his breath as a reply.

You only stop fingering him because you have an idea. With the phone still in hand, you dangle yourself off the side of the king bed to open one of the bedside table drawers, grab the silver heart-shaped plug and bottle of lube, then clamber back between your boyfriend’s legs. Jeonghan watches with glistening eyes as you drizzle the plug with lube. Once it’s drenched, you flip the phone camera around, letting Seungcheol watch as you press the tapered end of the plug against Jeonghan’s hole. The cold toy makes him flinch at first, and he shudders as you circle his rim with it until he’s thoroughly smeared with the sticky liquid. 

The sound Jeonghan makes when you push the plug inside of him is pitiful, and it’s in harmony with a deep groan of approval from Seungcheol. You’re the furthest one from dominant among the three of you, and yet you have these men dangerously wrapped around your finger. Your men.

“There,” you say, content, like you’ve just painted a masterpiece—and your boyfriend’s pretty ass with a cute heart-shaped butt plug nestled inside comes pretty close. 

“That’s my girl. So thoughtful,” says Seungcheol, and his praise ignites you with a sense of accomplishment that rivals the highest of promotions. 

“Can I make him eat me out now?” you ask, because it’s Cheol who does this best; sets the pace, tells you what to do, lets you sit in the palm of his hand while he does all the thinking for the three of you. A true leader, through and through. 

“Keep sucking Hannie off, baby, just for a bit,” is his instruction. It would be easy to disobey him, yes, to disconnect the call and turn off the phone if you so pleased, but the thing about Seungcheol is that even when his voice is soft, it still commands. 

You pout only for the sake of pouting because, really, having Jeonghan’s cock in your mouth is one of your favourite pastimes. You waste no time swallowing him all the way down to his base again, only to pop right back off him just to hear a tortured moan from him. You fall back into an up and down bobbing rhythm then, steadily, lips wrapped tight around your boyfriend’s length in the way that you know won’t make him last long. 

“Jeonghannie,” Seungcheol calls out, but the man in question is too busy whining and whimpering to hear him. When he’s close his brain all but shuts off and the only thing he can do is take whatever he’s getting with pretty, pretty moans. 

“Baby, don’t let him cum yet,” Seungcheol urges you instead. 

Jeonghan nearly sobs this time when you pop your mouth off his cock, but there’s a force in Seungcheol’s voice that compels you to listen. “Yes, daddy,” you say—the cherry on top.

Seungcheol drags a hand over his face, groaning. “Fuck, you two want me dead, huh?”

“Yeah, well, you two are disgusting… and annoying,” says Jeonghan, who sounds thoroughly irritated as a cute frown knits his brows together. 

Poor, poor you, with not one but two needy, jealous boyfriends who can’t stand not being the subjects of all your affection. If it was you in Seungcheol’s position, alone on the other side of the world, you would never get this sulky. You’d be completely rational about it. Obviously.

The urge to soothe Jeonghan comes as an instinct, one that makes you crawl up from between his legs so that you can straddle his slender waist and kiss his pouting lips. He melts into you when you do, mouth moulding against yours so sweetly, his hands falling to your waist and the tips of his fingers dancing softly against your skin. The Facetime call is forgotten, much to Seungcheol’s dismay, as you drop the phone to the bed in favour of cradling Jeonghan’s cheeks in your hands so that you can kiss him harder. Your crotch, still clothed, rocks back and forth over his erection and soon you’re moaning into one another’s mouths, muffled by your tongues that are swirling together. 

Jeonghan doesn’t have half of Seungcheol’s strength to manhandle you around, so he opts to gently guide you off his lap and onto the bed until you’re underneath him. He kisses you once, twice, thrice, leaves you reeling as he moves on to pepper your neck with soft nibbles and scrapes of his teeth. He pulls away for a moment only to drag your t-shirt (one of Seungcheol’s, of course) up and over your head. 

Now that you’re less occupied with Jeonghan’s lips, you pick up the phone again and bring the camera up to your face, grinning at Seungcheol’s small pout on the screen. If you could only hop through the phone and into his lap, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

“Cheollie, wanna see your cock, please,” you say, shivering as Jeonghan mouths at one of your nipples. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue as his hands reach up to grasp your tits delicately, and you sigh when his warm, wet mouth envelops one of your hardened buds. 

“Not yet, baby, I’ll take it out when Jeonghan fucks you, okay?” 

Seungcheol chuckles fondly at your unhappy hum, so he adds, “I wanna cum with you two, yeah?”

“Okay, fine- wait, Hannie,” you whine. “My boobs.”

He peers up, already between your legs, having decided he was done giving attention to your tits. You see right through it—your boyfriend is nothing if not vengeful. 

“You’re too spoiled,” he quips, peeling your shorts and panties down your legs, exposing your drooling pussy to him. 

“And you’re used to Cheollie doing everythi-ahh!” Jeonghan cuts you off when he licks your cunt without warning, sending your eyes rolling back into your head and your hand grabbing a fistful of his now-short hair. He’s far from rough and aggressive, but it’s precisely the patient softness of his touch that leaves you keening for more. 

“Baby, can you do me a favour?” Seungcheol asks, practically cooing as he watches your eyes glaze over with pleasure.

But all you can focus on is the way that Jeonghan’s warm tongue flicks lazily over your clit as well as the grip of his fingers on your thighs. 

“Baby?” Seungcheol tries again, only a little louder. This time your eyes flick to him on the screen and you make a little affirmative noise. “Will you flip the phone screen around for me, please? I wanna watch Hannie eat your pretty pussy.”

You do as he asks, pointing the camera to give Seungcheol a view of his boyfriend between his girlfriend’s thighs. 

“Good girl,” he says, breathier now, his tone darker. It’s deliberate; malicious, you would say—his praise makes you a whiny, needy mess. His voice alone turns you into a slut and he knows that because you’d told him that, word for word. “And since I’m not there, can you play with your tits for me, baby? The way that I would do it? I know it’s not the same, but it’ll still feel good.” 

“Mhm,” you moan. You find yourself closing your eyes as you let go of Jeonghan’s hair and bring your hand to cup your own breast, to squeeze and grope at it, to tweak and tug at your nipple, all while imagining that you’re leaned against your boyfriend’s sturdy, broad body and that it’s his big, unrelenting hand cupping your tits and not your own. 

At the same time, Jeonghan eats your pussy like the fiend that he is. Unlike Seungcheol, who lacks the control to stop himself from ravaging you like an animal until your pussy is raw and puffy, Jeonghan is much more, as he is in all aspects of his life, calculated. He’ll string you along with swipes of his tongue that seem coy until he’s making passes through your folds, prodding at your dripping, awaiting entrance. He licks into your hole and sips at your arousal like it’s honey, intent on making you fall apart slowly.

“How does his mouth feel, angel? Tell him,” says Seungcheol, whose lips have gotten swollen from his relentless chewing on them.

“God, Hannie, feels so good,” you squeak, your eyes still screwed shut as if that’ll help soothe the heat that burns through your body from Jeonghan’s mouth. Your fingers keep pinching at your nipple, and then Jeonghan slips two of his fingers into your heat, sending your hips bucking against his face and leaving you whining desperately, shamelessly. 

While his mouth makes out with your cunt, Jeonghan’s fingers dip in and out of you, massaging at your most sensitive spot over and over. He finds it with practiced ease, and he knows by now exactly what kind of vigour it needs to have you crying. He’s practically petting at your insides, your walls clamping around his fingers as your moans start to grow louder.

“H-hannie, I’m close, please, right there,” you squirm as your walls attempt to suck his fingers in.

You don’t see it, but his eyes flash with something devilish. Your other boyfriend sees it, though. 

“Jeonghan, don’t even think about edging her.”

Jeonghan smirks with mischief, letting his fingers do the work as he pulls his mouth away from your pussy. 

“Let me have my fun, Seungcheollie.” 

“If I did that neither you nor her would cum at all,” is your other boyfriend’s response. 

There’s silence as Jeonghan ponders whether he should obey or disobey. All the while, you’re mere inches away from your edge, hot with frustration because it’s so close; you’re so close. You just need a little bit more. It’s not too much to ask.

“Hannie, please…”

And he can’t find it in himself to deprive you any longer, so he crooks his fingers and works them as fast as he possibly can until you’re clenching, gushing, writhing all around his hand, wailing his name as you grab at his wrist but he still won’t stop. 

“Such a good boy, huh, Jeonghannie? Making her cum so good,” comes Seungcheol’s voice, sounding more breathless with each time he speaks. “Now we’re all happy.”

It’s only once your walls have stopped spasming around his fingers that Jeonghan finally slips them out of you and pops them straight into his mouth, licking them clean of every drop of your sugary arousal. He makes sure to gaze directly into the camera as his tongue laves and swirls over each one of his digits, knowing Seungcheol’s dick is twitching at the sight.

“I haven’t cum yet though. So I’m not happy yet,” he says, dragging a finger out of his mouth with a pop.

You sit up on your elbows with your cute, blissed out features, your eyes falling to his red-hard cock. 

“Come here and fuck me, then,” you say, impatient, like he didn’t just give you an orgasm. You paw at the hem of his shirt (also Seungcheol’s) and bite your lip as he pulls it over his head, letting your hands roam over his pale torso.

“Ride me?” he asks. How predictable. If it’s not Seungcheol taking him from behind then it’s you on top of him. God forbid Yoon Jeonghan does the work.

“Actually, I have a better idea. And this way Cheollie can see us both,” you say with a grin. 

With the phone on the front-facing camera, you prop it up against the headboard and roll onto your stomach, craning your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

“Like this?” Jeonghan asks, straddling the backs of your thighs.

“Yeah,” you say, parting your legs a little, arching your back and raising your hips—presenting your soaked, messy hole to him. “Try not to get tired.”

He responds with a half-hearted smack to your ass and Cheol scoffs out a chuckle. Jeonghan slides his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, revelling in your tiny gasps every time it catches on your entrance. You’re prepared to whine and nag at your boyfriend to hurry up, but you suppose he’s feeling just as impatient as you are because he’s pushing in before you can even speak up. You look at Seungcheol, mouth dropping as you’re stuffed full with Jeonghan’s cock until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. His hands land on either side of your elbows so that he can hover over you, reel his hips back, and fuck himself into you like that. 

In this position, Jeonghan’s length brushes right against your gummy, sensitive spot with every stroke, making you keen for more even though he’s just started. 

“Harder, Hannie,” you sigh, pushing your ass up against his hips.

Instead of listening, he drops his head to the crook of your shoulder and kisses your skin. His breath tickles your ear when he whispers to you: “ah, what’s the rush, angel?”

You turn your head to catch his gaze, to drink in the sight of his face as he takes what he needs from you; his cheeks pink, his eyes tired and full of hunger. His lips, plump and enticing, evoke an unrivalled craving within you and he reads you well, brings his mouth to yours to give you as much satiation as he can muster. 

Seungcheol sits, silent, waiting. His patience is mere embers as he watches you two, his boyfriend and his girlfriend, tangled within one another. The wet slap of Jeonghan’s balls against the back of your thighs; the smacking of your lips, teeth, and tongues. He misses it. Fuck, he could go insane. 

“Cheollie,” you whine, when Jeonghan’s lips are no longer enough. “Want you to feel good too.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he replies, abandoning all semblance of the self-control he’d displayed up until now. It’s time, anyway, he thinks. He’s held off long enough. He puts his phone down and there’s shuffling as he strips himself of his sweat-soaked outfit from the show and settles upon the bed sheets once more. 

Saliva pools from the sides of your mouth when he angles his camera to show you his hand wrapped around his thick, erect dick and God, what you’d do to have it bruising the back of your throat until you’re gagging, letting him defile you all while he coos the sweetest of praises at you. 

“Daddy, I miss your cock so bad,” you admit in a weak whimper, shivering when Jeonghan angles himself deeper inside you.

“Yeah? Miss how I’d fuck your pretty little mouth?”

“Fuck, she’s clenching so hard around me, Seungcheollie,” Jeonghan grits. “Greedy little thing.”

“I mean, it’s our fault one cock’s not enough to make her happy anymore,” says Seungcheol, sighing with relief as he thumbs at his leaking tip, squeezing his fist around it, reminiscent of the way that you and Jeonghan like to tease him.

“Like I said,” says Jeonghan as he pushes two of his fingers between your parted lips. “Spoiled.”

You moan around them, staring straight into the camera as you suck on them, staring at Seungcheol, who starts to pump his hand up and down his cock. He wants to shut his eyes and pretend it’s your hand, or Jeonghan’s hand, or one of your tight, warm holes, but he can’t take his eyes off of his phone screen no matter how hard he wants to, and, well, he doesn’t want to.

He jerks himself off to the same rhythm that Jeonghan’s hips grind into yours. Seungcheol likes things a little faster, usually, more rough, but it’s Jeonghan who’s inside you right now, not him, so he matches his boyfriend’s lazy but not too slow pace, one that’s just enough to give you a gradual stimulation. 

There’s something about the whole thing—being fucked on camera, being teased with Seungcheol’s cock when you can’t have it—it has you way more excited than you expected. Way more turned on than you expected. It shows in the floods of arousal that drip from your pussy and dampen yours and Jeonghan’s thighs, in the way you’re whinier and more sensitive than usual.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s own noises don’t help. In fact they spur you on, coax you closer to your edge, urge the heat in your belly to grow. When Seungcheol isn’t giving deep, rasped curses, he’s letting out pretty, breathy, borderline whimpering moans. Jeonghan’s sounds are as angelic as he is. His voice is a holy choir in your ear, heavenly and soft as he gasps with exertion and pleasure; as he does things to you that any God would frown upon.

Jeonghan, too, is more sensitive. With the plug constantly brushing at his prostate, he can’t help but screw his eyes shut and pretend it’s his big, buff boyfriend fucking his girth into him. It makes his thrusts grow raggedy, like he’s more heavy. His body weight presses into you as his arms start to ache just a little. He’s impossibly deep in your guts like this and it feels so fucking good that your brain starts to melt. 

Seungcheol recognises the look in your eye—absent, like you’re starting to tap out and letting yourself become consumed by bliss.

“Is she getting close, angel?” he questions, punctuating it with a moan, the slick glide of his hand up and down his cock like music in your ears.

Jeonghan hums affirmatively. “Pretty pussy’s choking me,” he says, his voice cracking, his composure with it. He tries to put more vigour in his thrusts, more determination. The sooner you cum, the sooner he cums. 

“Cum for Jeonghannie, baby,” Seungcheol urges softly. 

“Cum for me,” Jeonghan echoes. You don’t stand a chance.

The heat inside you coils up, then erupts. Jeonghan fucks you through your climax as you tremble beneath him, crying his name and clawing at the sheets below you. 

“There it is, my good girl,” Seungcheol coos, tightening his grip on his cock as he tugs at it harshly as though it could ever replicate the feeling of your warm walls clamping down on him as you cum. 

“Ah, fuck,” Jeonghan gasps, dropping his head to your shoulder, cock twitching. His next request is a broken, pathetic moan. “Ch-cheollie, cum with me.”

Jeonghan stills inside you, whimpering softly with every rope of cum that he spills inside you, letting you milk him of every last drop. At the same time, Seungcheol gives a resounding groan as he brings himself to his own release, cum splattering over his toned stomach. 

There’s a moment of silence, or, rather, nothing but a harmony of laboured breaths as the three of you come down from your orgasms. You give a noise of protest as Jeonghan suddenly rolls off of you, but his stamina is always drained after sex—especially when he’s doing the work. You shiver, both from the emptiness in your cunt and the cold air that hits you now that you no longer have your boyfriend’s body as a shield from it. 

“Seungcheollie’s gonna wanna see your cum leak out of me, you know,” you say. 

“You know me so well, baby,” is Seungcheol’s reply. 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. He makes no effort to move from his spot, opting to stretch his arm above his head and pat around until he finds the phone. He sits up next to you, points the camera between your legs as he grips one of your ass cheeks and spreads you apart. 

There’s a screenshot sound as white drools from your spent hole.

“Seungcheol!” you shriek. “You pervert.”

“Coups-ya, send that to me.”

thank you for reading! reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated <3

tags — @svtiddiess @ylangelegy @simpxxstan @caibeauchicfashion

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Hola. Long rambling feedback behind the cut as well as

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

I think this is so beautiful. Anyone who is a creative knows how difficult it can be to find a muse. So for this person to inspire a twitch in Logan after YEARS? That's just a very beautiful thing.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him.  Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring. 

And this is for BOTH 1) thinking it's not ok to be into art??? OK BUT CAVEMEN CARVED INTO WALLS, SIR and 2) "you're nothing if not inspiring" *screamingggggggggggggggggggg*

The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises.  Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing. 

I love that this fits with the Logan I know, the demand on self for perfectionism and the refusal to accept anything but. But it's especially important cuz he wants to do right by YOU/HER. *swoon*

And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more. 

Sigh. Oh Logan. Always thinking he's not worthy while he holds everyone he cares about up on pedestals. I both adore him and wanna shake him for these habits.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He gets Rogue to show him Instagram for reference photos. HOW CUTE!

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite. 

This is soooooooooooooooo beautiful. It is just a loud beacon of what Logan's heart really is. It's also really precious that he finally produces a drawing of her that he's satisfied with which then produces ANGST in him. Cuz he can't leave it out cuz what if people see? But he doesn't want to hide it cuz what if it smudges? Watching him go back and forth about it and the STRESS shows how much it means to him not to mess it up but ALSO, I think, how much it means to him to be back drawing. As a creative who goes through the longest dry patches, when a period of productivity comes up? OH DO I WANT TO HANG ONTO IT. And probably try so hard that I make it slip through my fingers.

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again.  He could give it to you. 

DO IT LOGANNNNNNNN!

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing? 

YOU care, sir! And people who love you will SEE that and care too!!! Don't we all wish he valued himself and his opinions more.

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him.

It's so precious to me, how relatable this is. Anyone who is a creative can relate, I'm sure. How nervous creatives are before they publish or they post or they even just share with someone they are close to. I wanna hug him.

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it.  Sappy motherfucker. 

Some day, someone needs to tell him he can give himself permission to BE sappy. Corny is part of life and it's a blessing.

He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door.  So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart.  It’s soo stupid. 

It's annoying to read Logan's antiquated views on masculinity here. Completely understand that it fits with his character and how he has aged and evolved but omggggggggggg, it's just frustrating lol

You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

The way we can convince ourselves of the worst possible outcome, eh? *smh*

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing.  You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.” 

SHE IMMEDIATELY TREATED IT AS SOMETHING PRECIOUS!!! SHE WANTED TO PROTECT IT JUST LIKE LOGAN WANTED TO PROTECT IT!!! BUT SHE LOVES IT TO THE POINT SHE MADE HERSELF A COPY TO CARRY IT AROUND WITH HER AT ALL TIMES!!!!!

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that.  But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?”  You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

To see the similarities in how they DON'T see themselves fully is kind of sweet and makes me root for them.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.”  The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created. 

He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing. 

This is HILARIOUS and KILLING ME because I also make rules for MYSELF that are different from the rules I have for EVERYONE ELSE lmao

He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy. 

Logan being an Acts of Service person makes ALL the sense in the world to me.

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end. 

The curse of the sequel! I think a lot of creatives can relate to this type of self induced pressure which means nothing you produce is good enough.

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.” He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

She already has a frame for the new drawing cuz the frames came in packs of 2 and she will NOT STAND for someone not absolutely FAWNING over it and I love that from her. It's doing Logan's heart SO good to see how much she adores what he's created.

If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you. Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

Our man is S-M-I-T-T-E-N and I love that for him. Cuz look what it's brought back into his life?

“I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it. “No one else knows.” You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

This is so intimate. And he's finally comfortable all the way with her. She knows it's him and he's fine with her knowing it's him.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

I appreciate that Logan is just the tiniest bit "selfish" here because this has been such an emotionally taxing ordeal for him. And she really really admires his talent and is THRILLED that it's him and that he sees her the way that he does.

From here the story slips into the Rated R portion of the story which is both hot and very sweet. The buildup means that I feel a genuine connection and intimacy between the 2 that feels "earned," if that's the right word. Cuz it doesn't feel forced or rushed or like we skipped a whole bunch of stuff to get here.

I also love that there's open dialogue. Often, the only talk between lovers is dirty - which I am a big fan of and absolutely fine with - but that here we have sweet confessions, constant check ins, and reassurances; these all fit with the journey we've been on with these two and I just really enjoy that aspect.

There's also good dirty talk, balanced give and take and praaaaaaaaaaaaise which I enjoy thoroughly. Logan also tends to take the possessive "my girl" over and over which just melts my butter!

@selfcarecap thank you so much for creating and sharing this! Thank you for following YOUR muse through to the end of this tale and then being brave enough to slip it under all our doors *bad dum tss* I really loved this look at Logan, his vulnerabilities, his abilities and desires beyond his powers / "job" and what allowing himself to create ultimately gifted him with. Well done smut that I also very much enjoyed too.

And thank you to K for putting it on my dash!

MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them. 

warnings: smut 18+ but with an actual plot for once (brief m masturbation, oral f and m rec, unprotected piv sex, kind of accidental (but consensual obv) facial; pet names: bub, baby, good girl, princess), soft!Logan but he won’t admit it, also soft!reader, fluff (although the summary makes it sounds a bit more dramatic than it is tbh), implication that reader has curly hair, implied mutant/X-men!reader, (obviously the pic doesn’t represent the envelopes Logan uses lol he’s not doing all that)

word count: 7.3k

also i feel the need to say something about the fact that it’s Hugh Jackman’s birthday today lol so uh thanks for being huge jacked man and for giving us our Logan yay <3 | gorgeous divider by @plutism

It’s everything Logan is the opposite of – he would never tell a soul – but over the course of his long life, Logan has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. It’s not really him, but he did have a phase or two.

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him. 

Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring. 

He gives in to the urge to get out pencil and paper again, waiting until everyone else has gone to sleep. The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises. 

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing. 

He picks out a few other things to draw then, to ease the pressure that comes with drawing the woman he… is friends with. Yeah, you’re a friend. And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more. 

But after a few nights he feels more confident in his drawing skills again, but still, as much as he can picture you in his mind – he can do that absolutely perfectly – he’s not too sure he could really draw you accurately.

So he gets Rogue to show him how goddamn fucking Instagram works so that he can look at some of your pictures and use them as a model. 

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He can’t believe it, but the first time he seriously attempts to draw you, it’s perfect. It’s a small drawing, not even as big as his palm, capturing your gorgeous face. He thinks of adding another few lines to your eyebrows, or to your hair or another small one to the outline of your lips, but he doesn’t want to mess with it. 

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite. 

He hides the drawing in between the pages of a book, and hides the book under a pile of random clutter on his desk that not even he would normally spare a glance at. But when he lies down to go to sleep, he gets all the stuff out again and gets out the drawing. He wants to see it again. And he can’t leave it there anyway, what if the pressure from all the items on top of it smudges it? 

But he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He can’t really have a drawing of you sitting in his room. What if someone sees? Then what is he gonna do with it instead? 

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again. 

He could give it to you. 

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing? 

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him. To see the side that has him staying up until 3AM to finely trace the lines of someone’s eyelashes and cheekbones and lips, the side that makes him feel calm inside. 

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it. 

Sappy motherfucker. 

He puts the small drawing back into the book and carefully pushes it between his mattress and the bedframe to protect it during the night. God, who even is he – protecting a tiny piece of paper? He groans at himself as he turns around to go to sleep. 

He dreams of making a thousand drawings of you, with you as his live model. His muse. 

You’re his girlfriend in his dream, he thinks. 

He’s sitting in a chair in your room, drawing you as you tell him about your day. You’re lying on your bed on your tummy, elbows propped up to support your head. You’re gently kicking your feet in the air behind you, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Logan’s, some silly graphic socks, panties with little cherries on them, and a bright, bashful smile as Logan attempts to capture your glowing features in a sketch block he’s dedicated to drawings of you. 

He wakes up with morning wood. 

Logan is no stranger to jerking off with you on his mind, so he spits in his hand and slips it beneath his boxers, stroking himself as he thinks of you. He imagines you on top of him as he jerks his cock, imagines you under him, or with your legs around his head, or you between his knees on the floor. He cums quickly and hard, leaving his boxers wet and sticky.

He goes for a run after he’s dealt with it and picks up an envelope on his way. He’s doubting himself but he knows he has to just do it. He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door. 

So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart. 

It’s soo stupid. 

He makes sure no one is anywhere near your bedroom, walks up to your door, and slides the envelope underneath. Except he didn’t check if you were in your room. As soon as the envelope disappears beneath your door, he hears a short creak from your bed and your soft footsteps. 

He hears the small and adorable noise of curiosity you let out – a confused hm? – and then he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway. He hears your voice about ten seconds later, an intrigued hello? as you open the door, but you don’t investigate further, closing the door behind you. 

Logan’s heart is beating so fast. He’s never doing this shit again. 

He’s antsy all day, waiting for some type of reaction from you. Except you don’t know that the drawing is from him so he’s probably not even getting one, and he can’t conspicuously come to your room the same day you receive an anonymous drawing of yourself. 

It’s also when the insecurity settles in. Maybe he should have added a few more lines or started the entire drawing anew. Who does he think he is pretending to be an artist? 

He shakes those thoughts off as he starts training with the punching bag in the gym. It’s not something that he necessarily needs to train, but it gets rid of some of that pointless energy. This isn’t him, worried about some lines he drew on a piece of paper – a scrap of a paper, really. Who cares about something like that? Certainly not him. 

He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up the next day disappointed that he didn’t get to dream about being your boyfriend again. God, what are you doing to him? Making him think about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s pathetic. You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

-

He’s not even thinking of the drawing anymore, truly, when he walks into the kitchen the next morning. It only comes to mind when he sees you, alone in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to scroll on your phone, your weird green coffee (“it’s Matcha, Logan”) next to you as you stir it mindlessly with a metal straw. 

“Hi,” you look up with one of those sweet smiles of yours, but redirect your attention to your phone. 

At least you don’t immediately say something like hey, you know that drawing you slid under my door? It was so ugly I threw it away. Since when do you even draw? 

Not that he was worried you would or anything. He hasn’t been thinking about it. Obviously. Why would he? And he knows you would never expect that it’s him; that’s the only reason he did it. He never would have given you the drawing if he thought you could have even the slightest inkling that Logan would be someone who draws. But he still wants to know what you think of it. 

“You want some toast too?” You ask, putting your phone down and turning to get some bread. He sits down at the other side of the kitchen counter and as his eyes flicker to your green drink (he still doesn’t get it), he sees it. 

“Is that–” my drawing, he almost said, “What is that?” He pretends to be confused, drawing his eyebrows together, trying his best to look inquisitive, “No toast by the way, thanks.” 

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing. 

“Did you draw it?” He asks. 

You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.” 

“Secret admirer?” 

Smiling, you say, “I don’t know. I won’t get my hopes up. But the person must definitely be fond of me to draw me like that.” 

“Like what?” He asks, unsure if he’s about to be offended. 

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that. 

But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?” 

You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

Logan stays silent. He can’t seem too pushy and draw attention to himself, but his silence makes you confess.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.” 

Logan makes a noise of satisfaction and smiles, asking you to pass your phone so he can look at it more – pretending it’s his first time seeing it. If you think that way about it, maybe the three more lines he was going to add aren’t that important after all. 

The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created. 

-

After a week, he figures he has to give in. Drawing another picture of you is on his mind twenty-four seven. 

It doesn’t help that he still catches you staring at the copy of it in your phone case lovingly more than once a day and you’ve put the original drawing in a special little frame on your nightstand. He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing. 

This is for you. It’s not about him. He’s not an artist or anything like that, he’s just doing something kind for someone he cares about (which is honestly sappy enough but he tries to ignore that). He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy. 

He’ll just make this second drawing and silently put it in your room, and he’s the last person you’ll suspect. 

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end. 

It takes him an entire month for the next drawing, and it feels more like him that it’s been making him so angry that he couldn’t get it right at first. Maybe he had the wrong picture of artists. They’re always talking about pain, aren’t they, and that’s what he experiences too (over a drawing. Who is he?). 

He takes another few days to keep track of your routine, to monitor when you’ll be in your room. He can’t have it be as close as last time. 

He ends up doing it in the evening. There’s a time after dinner when most of the team stays together to watch tv, just talk, or play some games. It’s normal for some of you to wander off, come back or stick around a bit longer. It won’t be suspicious if he leaves for a few minutes and comes back.

Logan wants nothing more than to follow you when you say that you’re going to your room for the night; he wants to see your reaction. But he can’t. All he can do is go up to his own bedroom fifteen minutes later, lingering in the hallway longer than he needs to.

Just as he’s about to give up and go to sleep, you walk down the hallway, coming back from the bathroom.

“Logan!” you call all excitedly when you see him, and his heart skips a beat. Do you know the drawing is from him? 

“Look,” you take his arm and pull him to your room, “I got another drawing!”

He breathes out in relief; you don’t know it’s from him. He smiles when you hold up the drawing, already framed.

“Were you expecting to get another drawing?” he teases.

“Noo, but the frames came in a pack of two. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Logan looks at how your eyes sparkle, how proudly you’re showing him this drawing. All the work he put into it was definitely worth it. It’s another picture of your face, this time from a new angle, and with your hair styled differently, curls coiled another way from last time.

Logan clears his throat, remembering to keep up his act. “It looks good.”

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

“It is. And you don’t have to know much about art or drawing to see how pretty this is. I still can’t believe someone would take the time to make these for me.”

Logan remains silent instead of saying what he wants to tell you. Of course he would take that time for you – and you don’t even know how much time it really took him. If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you.

Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

-

He’s on a roll for some time. He’s better at drawing again now that he’s getting in practice, and he makes five drawings of you within the next weeks. Logan watches the collection of them on your nightstand grow fuller, along with your smile that somehow gets bigger every time you tell him about a new drawing.

It’s a wonder you haven’t caught on yet, but you don’t seem particularly interested in snooping around to find out who it is. You respect the person’s privacy, but you’ve confessed to him that you’d still love to know. 

“I won’t try to find out who it is. I won’t push it if they don’t want me to know… but, I mean, anyone would want to know, wouldn’t they?”

You’ve adopted the nickname of ‘secret admirer’ for this mysterious ‘they’, after Logan used the term about ten times. You were reluctant at first, because the person isn’t calling themself a secret admirer – you’d just be putting words in their mouth. But after seeing how much more beautiful the drawings get each time, you’ve accepted and admitted that, okay, yes, the person must be an admirer.

Your secret admirer Logan is particularly proud of his latest drawing, excited to bring it up to your room tonight. 

But this time he’s sloppy. He’s stayed for a few post-dinner card games with the team, and it’s risky, because you’ve been saying that it’s your last game for the last two rounds. But he also knows that you always say that, and never mean it.

Logan gets up to leave, and he hears Scott convincing you to play just one more round.

It’s stupid, really, risking it like that. Even if he’s gone from your room in time before you come upstairs, you could easily guess that it’s Logan. He’s the first one leaving the round tonight, so your first assumption could be that it was him.

Maybe subconsciously he wants to get caught. He’s seen how you light up at every drawing, and no matter how much you respect your admirer’s anonymity, of course you want to know who’s dedicating so much time and work to drawings of you. Of course it’s crossed your mind that the person isn’t just doing this because they’re a good friend. They’re drawing your face because they think it’s beyond beautiful.

Logan doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told you yet that he likes you. He’s good at flirting, and he’s attractive – he’s not blind. But with you it’s different, there’s a bigger risk, for the both of you. The older he gets, the harder it is to open up to yet another person. You’re friends, and you talk about personal things, but confessing that he’s in love with you is different.

Not to mention this stupid recurring dream he keeps having, in which you find out it’s Logan who’s been drawing you, and suddenly your opinion of the drawings changes. You don’t like him back like that, and suddenly the drawings feel creepy if you think about him staying up late drawing your face.

He rolls his eyes at himself and gets the thought out of his head, taking the small envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans, smoothing his hand over it. He looks around, making sure no one sees him.

Logan bends down to slide the envelope under your door as usual, but one of the corners of the paper catches against the wall, and he quickly opens it to check the drawing isn’t damaged. His heart is beating so fast, he feels stupid. 

He can hear footsteps, still far away, but he can hear them. Logan messily licks the edges of the envelope to close it back up, but it’s not sticking. He can’t decide between shoving it under the door like this or leaving now and bringing it back the next day. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage now.

Then he hears it. He miscalculated how far the footsteps were.

“Logan?”

He turns around slowly, and it feels like the world has frozen.

You come closer, looking at him and then at the letter that he must’ve dropped. It hasn’t made it under your door yet.

He says something before you can, “I’m delivering for someone else.”

“Who?” you ask, bending down to pick up the envelope. If he wasn’t petrified, he’d enjoy the view of you bent over in front of him.

He breathes. He can’t have anyone taking credit for his work, for his art (you called it that recently, he would never). But his heart is beating so fast he doesn’t know what the fuck to do or say. 

This is exactly why he never wanted to do any of this. He’s making a fool out of himself and that doesn’t usually happen, especially not over a piece of paper. Logan is confident, cocky even, he can admit that, and has no idea how to deal with things like being nervous; he never has to. This really isn’t him.

You don’t wait for an answer and look at the envelope. You open it so carefully, gently taking the drawing out with your fingertips. You’re treating it with so much care he immediately feels better. Again, this isn’t for him, it’s for you. (Well, it’s for him too but it’ll take him a while to admit that). 

He’s drawn your smile this time. You were happy in most of the drawings before, but he focussed more on the eyes, and your lips only ever tugged up in a slight smile. 

This one is a full-toothed grin, mid-laugh. 

You two were drinking last weekend. He barely felt it but your tipsy, giggly mood was contagious. He couldn’t imagine himself feeling any other way but blissful when you’re happy around him. 

It started when Logan made a casual comment about something silly Scott was wearing that night, and he had you giggling. He wanted to immediately hear that angelic sound again, of course, and so he gave you every joke about your shared friends he could think of – all light-hearted, but he was still glad you two were alone. 

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

You look up at him now, eyes filled with tears. 

“You drew this?” you ask.

He nods softly. He can’t say it but he hopes the drawings convey how in love with you he is. 

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him. 

You’ve leaped up, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and now your lips are on his. 

He feels your mouth falter, probably because he’s being a fucking idiot and not kissing you back. Logan places his hands on your waist to pull you further towards him. Then his brain finally catches up and he can do what he’s wanted to for so long. 

He takes your chin with two fingers and angles you so you can kiss him easier. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your soft, warm lips against him. You’re soft and warm all over. Your top has slipped up over his fingertips at your sides, and he slides his hands further around your back to support you against him even better. 

Logan’s tongue pushes at your lower lip, and you let out the sexiest, tiny moan of surprise as you part your lips for him, granting him access. 

His tongue touches the tip of yours and from then on your cravings intensify. You feel your way over his muscular shoulders, his big biceps and over the hard planes of his chest. When you’ve had a good feel there, your hands grip his shirt in desperation and Logan gets even hungrier for you. He gently bites at your lower lip, but then you shriek into his mouth and squirm out of his grasp. He opens his eyes wide. 

You grip Logan’s forearm for support when you bend down in a panic, picking up the drawing you just dropped. You let out a big breath of relief when you see it hasn’t been damaged. 

“You made me drop it!” You slap a hand to his chest; it doesn’t actually hurt and it’s not meant to, but it leaves a pleasant tingle behind instead. 

“I didn’t do anything”, Logan laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

You take him into your room where you make him sit on the bed while you stare at the new drawing in awe. “I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it.

“No one else knows.”

You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

“I’ll only draw for you anyway, so there’s no point in telling anyone else.”

“You’re really good. I love the drawings.”

Logan gives a satisfied hum at your words, “You inspired me. Can’t have you walking around all pretty and not expect me to try and recreate it.”

You straddle Logan and hover over his lap to hug him, “They’re the best thing anyone's ever given to me. Do I really look like that?” You say the last question more quietly, and Logan wraps his arms around your sides, careful not to bump your hand that’s still holding the drawing.

“You’re more gorgeous than anything I could ever capture, but I think it comes close. I didn’t change anything about you to make you more beautiful. I couldn’t if I tried. I just tried to draw you as accurately as possible, that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“I really love it,” you say again, happily staring at the details of the drawing. Hearing you say the word love so much tempts Logan, but he doesn’t want to move too fast. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He does, however, want to kiss you again.

Logan carefully takes the framed drawing and puts it on your nightstand. You push your mouth against his before he can initiate the kiss, and he grins against your lips.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

Your chest is pressed against Logan’s, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. You may or may not be pressing your boobs against his body on purpose.

“God, baby, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, already breathless, as his hands trail down your back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’ve waited long?” you raise your eyebrows, grinning, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you.”

You see the look in Logan’s eyes changing as he bites his lip, “Who says I didn’t want the same?”

You giggle, “Why did it take us so long?”

Logan chuckles, readjusting you so that you’re even closer to him, “I was too busy to actually talk to you, just been starin’ at you so I could draw you.” His cheeks have the faintest red tint, and you kiss them, hugging him.

You whisper into his ear, “Then it was worth the wait. And anyway, it’s not talking that I’m interested in right now.”

He pulls you back to look into your eyes, then at your lips. “Where do you want me?” he asks. You giggle slightly helplessly; you weren’t entirely prepared to have a man like Logan at your mercy like this tonight.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say softly, kissing him.

Logan’s lips are hungry against yours, strings of spit falling between you two, but he pauses the kiss to lie you on your back. “Wanna eat you out,” he husks, “Been dying to know what you taste like forever, bub. Can I?” He reaches for the hem of your top, and you nod so that he can pull it off you, admiring what’s underneath. 

“Sometimes I make myself cum imagining that I’m going down on you,” you confess somewhat shyly, but you figure he’s been so vulnerable for you that you can share a secret too.

Logan smirks, and pulls off his shirt, “Maybe we can make your dream come true then.”

You move to sit up, but he insists on eating you out first. You both take off all your clothes, staring at each other with huge smiles on your faces for a few moments. You’ve never seen Logan this happy.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty,” he leans down to kiss your lips, then down your neck, all the way to your legs. He spreads them, lying down between them as he all but drools at the sight of your wet pussy.

You get nervous all of a sudden. “It’s been a while,” you tell him. He looks up, taking your hand, enveloping it completely in his much bigger one.

“You sure about this? We can wait,” he gently kisses your knuckles, and a warmth spreads in your chest, slowing your heartbeat down a little.

“I’m sure,” you nod, and Logan comes up again to kiss you. The head of his hard cock catches against the space above your clit, and you both look down between your bodies. When Logan looks back up at you, his eyes are desperately begging you. You place your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair as he moves down your body.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your thigh, kissing you there. You giggle, getting comfortable, your hand never leaving his hair.

Logan starts eating you out, his tongue gentle but determined against your clit.

“Taste so good, baby. Even better than I imagined.” You hum at Logan’s words, already feeling yourself come undone with his mouth on your wet pussy.

You sink further into the mattress when he starts sucking on your clit, licking into your pussy like a man starved every few moments, and your thighs squeeze around Logan’s head, and it’s even better than in his fantasies.

“Feels really good,” you tell him, pulling on his hair to stop yourself from moving too much, and Logan moans against your skin. Hearing your words motivates him even more, and he pushes two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers, rubbing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

Your back arches as you cum, Logan’s lips wrapped around your clit as your legs push harder against his head, and all he does is moan, revelling in the feeling.

Logan doesn’t stop licking your pussy until you’re tugging his head away by his hair, and he comes up for air with a grin on his face. You smile back, pulling him up to kiss him. You give yourself only a few seconds of recovery time before you make him sit down. You know you’d never have enough strength to actually make him get into a different position, but he lets you.

You push him onto his back, getting between his legs. You’re blinking up at him all prettily when you ask, “Can I suck your dick? Please?”

Logan huffs to himself because he can’t believe how hot you are, can’t believe that this is really finally happening. He tells you yes – he has no more words to describe how badly he wants this – and he watches you wrap your pretty lips around his cock.

It’s hard to grasp that it’s really you doing this right now – the woman he’s been into for so long. His cock is in your mouth and you look so gorgeous with spit running down from your lips, and all he can think of is all the dirty drawings he can now make of you, if you’ll let him.

He closes his eyes when you take him deeper, enveloping him with your warm, wet mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers absent-mindedly, too gone to say much more.

You’re not using your hands as you suck his cock, your spit trailing down on him, and you’re so eager. But it’s also late, and he sees you getting tired, eyes blinking slower as you pause to catch your breath every few moments. He also sees the determination in your eyes, and the absolute want, but he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself. 

You look so sexy all fucked out, strings of spit connecting your mouth to his cock as you pull away another time, giggling up at him shyly when you realise that he’s noticing you getting tired.

“Just need a second,” you wipe your mouth, out of breath, and it’s not that you’re not incredibly hot like this, but he still wants to fuck you tonight and he’s not sure that will happen if you keep going.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Huh?” you ask, taking his hand nevertheless.

“Get back here, baby. I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Don’t want you tiring yourself out.”

You let him lift you and put you on your back, but you pout, “Wanna taste you.”

Logan grins, “I’ll cum in your mouth, princess. Promise.”

You smile at his answer, satisfied, so you lie back down, pulling your legs up to your chest. His cock looks huge as he jerks himself off between your legs, rubbing the tip against your clit, making you squirm.

“Don’t know if I can take you,” you bite your lip. You’re not entirely sure if you mean it or not. You definitely want to try.

“We’ll make it fit, baby, we’ll make it fit,” Logan assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth, a mix of your wetness and his precum between your mouths. You feel his cock at your pussy, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” you nod desperately, letting him push his cock into your pussy. He pauses after a few inches, but you wrap your legs around his waist more tightly, and he goes deeper.

“Y’okay, baby? You can take it, right?”

You nod, unable to form words with your pussy stretched like this, a combination of pleasure and pain between your legs – but it’s infinitely more pleasure.

“That’s right. You’re my good girl, hm?” He kisses along your neck as he bottoms out, and you both moan when he’s got his cock fully stuffed inside you for the first time. He pulls out slightly when you whine at the stretch, but you scratch down his back to get his attention.

“I can take it,” you tell him, and you watch the look in his eyes darken.

He begins to fuck you, the pain subsiding more with every thrust into your wet pussy. You can barely take him, but it feels good. With your slight tiredness, you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. 

You can’t believe that Logan – your super hot friend Logan who you’ve been fantasising about for so long – is fucking you. He not only feels the same way about you, but he’s been your secret admirer this entire time, taking hours and hours out of his day to make you smile. You’re the only one he wants.

And now he’s fucking you, fucking you well, and you feel so warm inside, not just from the sex but you feel warm in your heart, because of Logan’s care.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a hand down your face when he notices you’re not entirely present. You nod happily, smiling up at him, and you can’t talk because you feel so good.

“Good, that’s good, bub, but let me know if it gets too much,” he says as he starts rubbing your clit, watches you nod while he’s fucking you so well, and he’s so big and so deep inside of you, “Squeezing me so tight, baby, feel so fucking good.”

You cum suddenly, letting the warm pleasure flow through your body as Logan keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit in just the right rhythm.

“That’s my girl, taking it so well,” he moans, breaths stuttering. You slump against the pillow after a few moments, with a soft smile on your face, and Logan pulls out.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he jerks his cock, and you sit up on your elbows immediately, looking him in the eyes with a smile as you stick out your tongue for him. He promised.

Logan moans when he cums, painting your face in his release, jerking himself off. He holds your head in place with his other hand, aiming for your mouth but you’re making no effort to catch his cum there.

“Such a pretty fucking face, princess, ’m cumming all over it,” he rasps, shooting more ropes of his cum all over your cheeks, jacking off onto your face.

You open your eyes when he’s done and breathing heavily, and you smile up at him. You open your mouth, taking the head of his cock between your lips to suck off the last drops of cum.

“Look at you, baby. Look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your gorgeous face.”

You hum, pulling your mouth off him and licking your lips, tasting his salty release. You brush a finger over your cheek, sucking it into your mouth to taste him more. Logan kisses you then, the flavour of himself mixing between your mouths.

He cleans you up gently, carefully wiping your face with a baby wipe and kissing every inch of your cheeks afterwards. You take his face to kiss him properly, and if you didn’t seem so tired Logan would be ready for round two immediately.

“Next time you could try to actually cum in my mouth,” you tease, making Logan grin.

“Sorry, baby. Got too excited. Couldn’t focus on asking you again if it was okay.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I liked it.”

Logan grins, “Oh I could tell you liked it, baby.” You lightly slap his chest as you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

You cuddle for a while, not saying much because you don’t have to. You’ve both waited for this for so long that you’re just enjoying the moment, enjoying that it finally happened.

You slip out of his arms to sit on top of him. You’re in nothing but panties, the blanket bunching around your hips. You lean your hands against his chest as you tell him more about how much the drawings delighted you. And Logan cares, of course he cares to hear that, but he’s also just a man seeing the woman he’s into naked for the first time still. 

You become quiet when you realise that he’s not listening, and you giggle, “Distracted?”

Logan grins, “Just a little fucking bit, baby.” His eyes don’t leave your body, and you laugh as you bend down to kiss him. He grabs your ass, kneading the flesh. When you slightly sit up again, your tits are near his face, and he can’t help himself. He cups your breasts, playing with your nipples, making you hum.

“I should draw these,” he looks up at you, “Should draw every perfect fucking inch of you.”

“You wanna?” You adjust how you’re seated in his lap, and you feel that he’s already half hard under you again.

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

You smile, feeling yourself growing wetter on top of him.

“Tomorrow,” he continues, and your smile drops.

“But you’ve got to get more familiar with the inspiration, right? If you’re going to draw me.”

“That’s true, baby. But I think you’re too tired.”

You smile bashfully, ignoring how your eyelids were drooping shut just a few seconds ago, “Okay, but then I’ll have more energy for tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off him to cuddle you again. He tucks you in and kisses your head. 

You turn to your side, taking one of the framed drawings and looking at it for a while. 

Logan watches you looking at it, and the sparkle in your eyes never fails to make him feel all warm inside. “Now that you actually know about it, I don’t have to draw you from memory anymore. I can study my muse in peace.”

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

“Of course you are, princess. You’re the only reason I’m drawing again.”

“I love your drawings so much.”

Logan clears his throat, and looks at you. “Well, I love you. So, I think that went into them.”

You look at him, pouting and then kissing him. “I love you too,” you say into his mouth. He grins against your lips, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. He can barely grasp that you just said that, but he’ll have enough time soon to comprehend how lucky he is. 

For now, he takes your hand, and asks, “The question might be redundant now, but do you wanna be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already yours.”

Logan grins, takes you in his arms, and you’re still cuddling when you’re both drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

P.S. reblog with a comment and let me know your favourite moment/what you liked to get a drawing from Logan under your door tonight and a facial <33

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

[jnnul]

if i say...i love you!

a/n: i saw the if i say i love you trailer and i am a CHANGED WOMAN. was going to make this for taesan but there aren't enough loser leehan fics out there. cranked this out in one day so if there any grammatical errors, pls let me know <3 quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 7.4k

tags: high school au!, losers in love, leehan is referred to donghyun, dongmin is a character accurate loser + menace, jihyo han/jihan best girl!, the bnd boys are chaotic and stupid, leehan is in LOVE, warnings: none!

THERE'S A FAT CHANCE THAT YOU'RE GOING TO ACCEPT KIM DONGHYUN'S CONFESSION.

at least, this is what han dongmin says when donghyun lays out his plan in front of his best friend.

"why?" donghyun whines, looking down at his hasty scribbles on his blueprint. "what's wrong with the plan?"

dongmin rolls his eyes, not even looking down at the blueprint (which donghyun had literally drawn out his plan on blue paper to make the entire situation more official - but dongmin just thinks its childish, if not a little adorable) as he pads into the kitchen to grab a snack.

"well for starters, i'm fairly sure that y/n can't read what you've written," dongmin says, two packets of goldfish richer when he returns.

donghyun frowns as he looks down at the paper before groaning, realizing that the hieroglyphics he'd written in place of legible letters were definitely far from interpretation.

"what do i do?" donghyun bemoans, dragging out each syllable. "by the time i work up the courage to confess to her again, we'll all be senior citizens instead seniors in high school!"

dongmin snorts before finally giving the 'blueprint' a solid look to decipher exactly what donghyun's plan was.

"your plan is to get down on your knees before first period and ask her out in front of the entire class with - are those chocolates or suspiciously small grenades? - chocolates and flowers? and you think that she's going to be first of all, comfortable with this and second of all, willing to say yes?" dongmin shakes his head, shoving a handful of goldfish into his mouth. "even if she does have feelings for you, she'll probably say no just because of this plan."

donghyun lets out another groan as he lays on the floor, cursing his luck. when he'd run the plan by jaehyun, the older had said that it was the perfect plan. although, if myung jaehyun thought that this was a good way to ask someone out, that really should've been donghyun's first sign of danger.

"also did you even need an entire sketch for this? i mean, it seems pretty straightforward," dongmin says, barely dodging assault by very well aimed marker.

"well, if you're done snarking on my plan, can't you help me figure out how to ask her out?" donghyun says, flipping over to serve dongmin his killer move - puppy eyes. the motion is clearly lost on dongmin when he just shovels more goldfish into his mouth but after a painfully long moment of chewing dongmin moves from the couch to the floor.

"alright, alright, fine...here's what you're gonna do..."

TRIAL ONE: DONGMIN'S PLAN

"hey jihyo," donghyun says casually, nodding to you as he spoke with your best friend, han jihyo. it was 7:30 in the morning and while donghyun usually couldn't be bothered to woken up before 7:45 in the morning (when he would eventually be yelled at by his mother and then scramble to get to school), he felt surprisingly excited to get up early in the morning to get to the school.

jihyo looks at donghyun confusedly as she takes her seat right next to you, where you had your textbooks open in front of you, just like he knew you would. "hey donghyun. what's up?"

donghyun shrugs, trying his best not to look at you scribbling away as he converses with jihyo. "nothing much. i was just wondering if you were busy later today? dongmin got us tickets to watch a movie but our friends dropped out."

"which movie?" jihyo asks, eyes sparking up at the mention of donghyun's best friend.

"uh..." donghyun wracks his brain, trying to come up with a movie name on the spot. dongmin hadn't prepared him enough! "interstellar?"

"are you asking me or telling me?" jihyo says, just barely suppressing her laugh. next to her, you look like you're in a similar situation, eyes bright and sparkly with the efforts to not completely laugh in his face.

while donghyun would usually take this in a win in itself, he decided to push his luck just a bit further. "i'm telling you; it's dongmin's favorite movie."

he pretends to ignore the subtle elbow jab that you offer to jihyo, fighting down the corners of his lips that keep creeping upwards. perhaps this plan could help donghyun and dongmin - two birds one stone. even if in this situation, dongmin was completely oblivious to jihyo's affections...

"yeah, i'm free later on," jihyo says before turning to you, her hair covering her face so donghyun can't see her facial expression as she's speaking with you. "you're free too, right y/n? you're coming with us?"

"i mean, i am free but i don't want to intrude. we don't even know if dongmin has enough tickets," you point out, a little shy as you look anywhere but donghyun and jihyo - which is a little hard considering that jihyo is practically in your face and donghyun is a good two meters tall (or at least, that's what it feels like).

"i have tickets," dongmin says, announcing his presence with an arm slung around donghyun's shoulder.

"perfect! so then we'll meet you guys in the courtyard at the end of school," jihyo says, fluttering her eyelashes not so subtly at the sight of the large man currently dangling off of donghyun.

he flashes an 'ok' sign as the two boys make their way to the back of the classroom, dongmin snickering at donghyun's dazed expression.

neither of them realize that you've turned around in your seat, a soft look in your eyes as you steal glances at donghyun.

+++

"i hate you," donghyun mutters under his breath. dongmin slaps his forehead with the heel of his palm, staring at the tickets in his other hand.

"you didn't exactly give me enough time to secure four tickets to interstellar of all movies," dongmin hisses, turning to flash a sweet smile to jihyo and you, waiting in the line patiently for some popcorn as the boys stood outside the theatre.

"well you didn't prepare me with a movie name! i did the best i could," donghyun whispers back, pulling dongmin to the side when an older couple tries to enter the theatre behind them.

"yes, and now look. we've got four tickets scattered across the hall," dongmin says, waving the tickets in donghyun's face.

donghyun sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tries to figure out a solution to the situation.

"what if we just bounce and do something else? there's no point in watching the movie if we're all gonna be on opposite sides of the theatre," donghyun says and dongmin frowns, looking down at the tickets once more.

"wait wait...there's two seats that are next to each other. it's just the other two that are on the opposite sides of the theatre," dongmin says, pointing out the seat numbers on the tickets.

"so y/n and i will sit in those seats, and then you and jihyo will sit on opposite sides of the theatre?" donghyun asks, reaching out to grab the tickets when dongmin draws his hand back quickly, holding them out of reach.

"what happened?" you ask, voice soft and gentle as you and jihyo walk up to the boys with arms filled with popcorn and soft drinks.

donghyun and dongmin exchange a look before handing over the tickets sheepishly. jihyo takes the tickets with furrowed brows after handing over (dumping) the soft drinks in dongmin's arms.

"hm. okay, give me one sec, i'll text you guys," she says somewhat mysteriously before disappearing into the theatre where trailers were playing.

"uh...i feel like one of us should go with her," donghyun says before pushing dongmin through the door behind her. the bewildered look on his face is quickly covered by the doors that cover him in darkness.

the giggle that leaves your mouth might as well been a choir of angels by the way that donghyun feels weak in the knees, unable to tear his away from your frame.

"here, let me hold that," donghyun says, gently taking the larger than life tub of popcorn from your arms. you thank him shyly, tugging your jacket over your shoulders.

"do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" you ask, a faint warmth in your cheeks. donghyun nods, tossing a kernel of popcorn into his mouth.

"i've learned that you should be kept far far away from horror movies," donghyun says cheekily. you pout, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"no one warned me that there would be that many jump scares," you complain, chewing on a piece of popcorn.

"i remember how you were shaking while the murderer was searching the house," donghyun laughs, dodging when you reach out to slap his arm. "you wouldn't let go of my arm until the murderer was put in a jail cell."

you clear your throat, trying to will away the heat that was building on your nape and cheeks. "interstellar doesn't have any jump scares does it?"

you look up to meet donghyun's eyes, only to realize that they're already looking into yours. big, bright, sparkly and looking at you as if he's trying to commit every detail about you to memory.

"no, no jump scares," he says softly, and suddenly you get the feeling that you're stumbling into a territory you've never explored before as he draws closer to you.

"um, that's good," you whisper, the moment suddenly too intimate to speak. donghyun looks at you for just a second too long before stepping back when there's a buzz in your pocket.

"dongmin and jihyo?" he asks, shoveling more popcorn into his mouth before you walked in, knowing that dongmin was prone to eating everything in sight when watching movies.

you nod, reading the text message out loud. "jihyo somehow convinced two people to switch seats so we've got seats all next to each other."

"cool. let's head inside then," donghyun says, the warmth of his body leaving yours. he pauses just before he enters the dark theatre, looking at you with a soft smile.

"and y/n? even if there aren't any jump scares, feel free to hold onto my arm."

+++

"what happened afterwards?" kim woonhak asks, sprawled out on park sungho's bed. sungho reaches over to smack him on the arm when woonhak opens up a bag of cheetos, only to spill them all over his bed.

"nothing, obviously. the fool started getting so into the movie that that's all he would talk about for a good hour before y/n said she had to go home and study," dongmin says, slapping donghyun upside the head when donghyun starts to contest his recollection of the situation.

"you're really stupid," lee sanghyeok says, accepting the packet of haribo gummy bears that jaehyun throws in his general direction.

"sure. but this is all because i listened to dongmin's idea. i was supposed to ask her out at the end of the movie in some weird, complicated speech that dongmin came up with," donghyun protests.

"see, that's your issue," sanghyeok says, wincing when woonhak rips the head off of a gummy bear as he eats it. "i don't know why you'd listen to the least romantic person in this room about how to ask a girl out."

"then what do you think i should do?" donghyun asks.

"well, as the only person out all of you fools with a girlfriend, here's what i think you should do," sanghyeok starts, holding up an ipad with a drawing on it.

"when the two of you are cleaning the classroom after classes..."

TRIAL TWO: SANGHYEOK'S PLAN

"uh, what do you mean that y/n's sick?" donghyun says dumbfoundedly. jihyo gives him a weird look as she continues to take down two copies of notes, confirming that y/n is most definitely not at school.

"i mean that she's sick. she caught something from her brother. she's not coming to school today," jihyo repeats, staring at her notes for a moment before continuing to write again.

"oh," donghyun says defeatedly, thanking jihyo before heading to the back of the classroom. dongmin appears in the doorway of the classroom not even two minutes later, lollipop in his mouth as he drops one on jihyo's desk before heading to the back of the classroom to sit down next to donghyun.

jihyo twists in her seat. "this is y/n's favorite flavor. i'll give it to her later when i drop off some soup my dad's making her."

"you're going to y/n's house?" donghyun asks, leaning forward on his elbows, looking like he was pretty close to toppling over the desk and onto the student in front of him.

"uh, yeah." donghyun scrambles out of his seat to head over to the front of the classroom where jihyo was sitting.

"can i come with you?" donghyun asks. jihyo looks at him strangely for a moment before craning her neck to dongmin behind him. it seems whatever she sees is enough to convince her because she nods after a beat of silence.

"sure. you can come too. i'm heading over after we clean the classroom," jihyo says, nodding over to where dongmin was sitting and thumbing through his phone with earbuds in. "bring dongmin too."

"why?" donghyun questions with an innocent expression, backing off when jihyo fixes him with an unimpressed look.

"consider it a favor exchange. my friend for yours."

+++

"you know what, i thought sanghyeok's idea was stupid anyway," sungho says over the phone. donghyun can vaguely hear the sound of weights being lifted and dropped and he figures that his college going friend was likely at the gym when donghyun had emergency called him with a need for a new plan.

"so what do you think i should do? i mean, i only have a couple minutes until jihyo comes out of her house after picking up the soup. how do i come up with a plan in the next three minutes?" donghyun asks worriedly, shoving dongmin away when he sees that dongmin's dangerously close to his phone, trying to figure exactly what sungho was saying on the other end.

"well, clearly food is out of the picture, since you don't have time and because you're a walking hazard when it comes to anything related to a stove," sungho says, more to himself than to donghyun.

"if you could come up with a way to help without snarking on my cooking skills, that would be highly appreciated," donghyun says drily, winding up to kick dongmin when he starts snickering from where he's leaned up against the wall.

"alright, alright. here's what you do, alright? first, when you get to her house..."

TRIAL THREE: SUNGHO'S PLAN

"you've seriously never been to tokyo?" dongmin asks incredulously, his hands shoved in his pockets. jihyo shakes her head, setting down the soup from where she'd just reheated it on your stove.

your parents were out of town on a business trip and according to what she knew about your brother, jihyo figured that park sunghoon was out frolicking around in the snowy streets with his own friends.

"i've never been on a plane before," jihyo explains, satisfied with the heat of the soup finally. dongmin just shrugs, looking around your house with a renewed interest when donghyun pads out of your room to where the other two were standing in the kitchen.

"is she still sleeping?" jihyo asks, trying the soup herself. donghyun nods, rubbing his hands to create some friction and warm them up.

"yeah. she seems to be waking up but i think that she's still pretty out of it right now," donghyun explains before picking up the container of soup. "do you think that you can bring the paracetamol? it looks like y/n has a pretty bad headache."

"how can you tell she has a headache?" dongmin asks, his question turning to a whisper when jihyo looks at him with a withering glare.

"it's called having empathy, han dongmin," jihyo calls out, looking for the paracetamol in one of the medicine cabinets.

"empathy? i have plenty of empathy," dongmin says under his breath sullenly as he follows jihyo into your bedroom.

you're laying in bed, curled up in carefully laid covers, clearly donghyun's work by the way he's examining the bedspread with rather severe scrutiny, as if he's willing the hearts on your bedspread would turn into mini heaters to provide warmth to your sick and tired body. your eyebrows are furrowed, even in your sleep, as though you were fighting away the illness with a physical weapon with effort.

"y/n? you gotta wake up soon. sunghoon said you've been sleeping for hours and that you haven't eaten anything yet," jihyo says, setting the paracetamol down on your nightstand.

"yeah, where is sunghoon anyway?" dongmin asks, watching as donghyun wakes you gently, offering you a smile so sweet, even dongmin feels himself swooning.

"gallivanting on the streets. he's still sick himself but there's no containing the man," you explain, sitting up in your bed. you somehow don't seem all that alarmed that there are so many foreign people in your room, looking worse for the wear.

"here's soup. don't worry, i didn't make it - jihyo's dad did," donghyun says softly, handing the bowl of soup over with so much care, it seemed as though he were handling a live grenade.

you let out a mellow laugh, coughing at the effort as you accept the bowl of soup, letting out a blissful sigh after sipping a spoonful. "tell your dad i said thank you, ji."

jihyo just waves you off, unzipping her backpack to search for her other copy of notes. "here are the notes from today. the biology lecture really gave me a headache so i wouldn't even try to decipher that until you feel better unless you want to feel like a tightrope walker with an anvil on your head."

"that's...really descriptive," dongmin says, laughing when jihyo shoves him.

"i can help you," donghyun says, watching you carefully as you take another sip of soup, thankful for the liquid warming you up from the inside.

"you're willing to sit with me to study biology? are you sure that you don't think it'll be a bother?" you ask, looking up at donghyun through your lashes. donghyun's breath catches in his throat when you do. somehow, even with a runny nose, mussed hair, and granny pajamas, donghyun thinks you look like the vision of beauty.

"it's not a bother to me. spending time with you could never be a bother," donghyun says offhandedly, looking at the label on the paracetamol. it's only when the entire room goes silent does he realize that he'd spoken out loud.

he looks around nervously for a moment before his eyes land on you, staring at him, bright-eyed and every inch the reason why donghyun has trouble sleeping at night these days.

"i mean, you're my friend, right? why would it be a bother to spend time with your friend?" donghyun backtracks and he hears jihyo and dongmin let out a breath behind him. you still look somewhat confused before you nod slowly, finishing your soup.

"friend, right."

+++

"you were at her house and you still fucked it up," woonhak laments, wincing when jaehyun chucks a pillow at him.

"language," the older boy says before flopping on sungho's bed next to woonhak.

"why do you delinquents always have to come to my room? can't we ever hang out in sanghyeok or jaehyun's room? or better yet, why can't we ever hang out at your guys' houses?" sungho complains, but he still sits down next to jaehyun, shoving the two boys a little bit over to make space for himself.

"because your room is the cleanest," sanghyeok points out, never looking up from the homework he was working on at sungho's desk.

"yeah, unfortunately sanghyeok's room is currently serving another purpose," jaehyun snorts.

"what, as a pigsty?" dongmin quips, a smirk drawn out on his lips when sanghyeok fixes him with a thoroughly unimpressed look.

"all of you are useless," donghyun wails, swatting sungho's hands away from his hair. "i've been trying to confess to her for a good week and a half now and all i've managed to do is make a fool out of myself three separate times."

"you didn't make a fool out of yourself, donghyun," woonhak comforts before jaehyun sits up from where he was scrolling on his phone, shaking his head.

"nope, he definitely did. the first time, when dongmin booked four separate tickets and jihyo had to save your ass so you could attempt to confess after the movie, just to ramble about physics and black holes for hours. and then when y/n never showed up to school so you couldn't confess to her while you were cleaning the classroom like sanghyeok suggested. and then when he couldn't even take care of her properly like sungho suggested while she was sick because he can't cook if his life depended on it." woonhak nods when jaehyun finishes his spiel, much to the horror of donghyun, who was now starfish on the floor, looking ready to throw a tantrum.

"yeah, i can see why she would think he's weird," woonhak says with an air of seriousness.

"you guys think she thinks i'm weird?" donghyun cries out dramatically.

"no, otherwise you wouldn't be going to the library together on sunday to go over biology," sanghyeok points out logically, flipping through the pages of his textbook with a crease in his forehead from focusing.

"see, the issue is that all three of those fools are way too subtle with their confessions. sungho's ideas especially was stupid," jaehyun says. "i mean seriously, telling her that you're half in love with her while she's gotta killer migraine must've been the stupidest idea i've ever heard."

"you thought that asking her out in front of the entire class was a good idea," dongmin reminds jaehyun, who just rolls his eyes.

"you guys have no sense of romance."

"i have a girlfriend."

"shut up, sanghyeok."

"damn, alright. i didn't realize all of you were that salty that you're single losers."

"SHUT UP SANGHYEOK!"

after sanghyeok has been served with enough slander for being an insufferable boy in love, woonhak and jaehyun turn to donghyun with twin expressions of evil on their faces.

"you need to man up, donghyun! here's how you tell her that you like her..."

TRIAL FOUR: JAEHYUN AND WOONHAK'S PLAN

"so the reason why this question is phrased this way is because you're supposed to focus on the oxygen affinity for fetuses versus adults based on this curve," donghyun explains patiently, pointing at various points on the diagram in front of him as he speaks.

you nod hesitantly as you follow his hand around the paper before ultimately shaking your head, slumping down on the table.

"i'm sorry donghyun, this entire thing might just end up being a waste of your time. i have no clue what any of this means," you mutter disheartenedly looking at donghyun.

donghyun just shakes his head, smiling as he closes the textbook and stretching. at the table over from the two of you, dongmin and jihyo are bickering about the best my chemical romance instead of studying for english like they'd promised when your teacher announced the upcoming exam on friday.

in the ideal world, dongmin and jihyo would be off being a cute couple (whether they realized it or not) somewhere where donghyun couldn't see them and be jealous but the effervescent feeling he gets from spending time with you is more than enough to douse that jealousy.

"you're shoving a lot of information into your brain. it's hard to get on the fiftieth try, much less the first," donghyun says gently, and you peek up at him, only to cast your gaze elsewhere when you realize just how overwhelming it is to look at him.

it's a warm feeling that spreads through your body as you realize that donghyun looks at you as though you may as well have put the stars in the sky personally for him.

funny. did he ever realize that you looked at him the same way?

but you're left to leave your thoughts with the disarray of papers when donghyun stands up, shrugging his jacket and scarf on.

"come on, let's go get you some coffee," he says, lifting up your jacket to hand it to you. you offer him a small smile as you put your jacket on, following him out of the library once he's stopped and dongmin and jihyo's table to ask them to watch your stuff.

"bring me back a latte!" you faintly hear jihyo whisper-shout, to which donghyun turns around to flash her a thumbs up before leading you out of the library.

the weather outside is surprisingly clear and warm for how much it's snowed over the past few days.

"you didn't put a scarf on?" donghyun chastises, unwrapping his own scarf and draping it around your neck. you try to protest, giving donghyun back his scarf but he just ignores you, expertly ducking and weaving as you try to drape the scarf back on him.

"you're going to get cold!" you exclaim, but you don't fight him when he wraps the scarf around your neck properly.

"you know, i wanted to be your friend since the day i saw you, back in middle school," donghyun says, his breath leaving his lips in clouds as the two of you walked the three blocks between the café and the library.

you wrack your brain, trying to recall the first time that you'd met donghyun. "i thought we met in high school, though? at jihyo's birthday party?"

donghyun just smiles, looking up at the clear skies. "that's when you first saw me. i saw you back in middle school."

"really?" you ask quietly, shocked by the knowledge that donghyun had been thinking about you in whichever capacity for so long.

"yeah. i remember you had braces back then but you still were the prettiest girl in class. you always used to be so quiet and kept to yourself but you were so sweet to everyone around you. i remember when jihyo found out that she was nearsighted, you used to write her notes for her every period until she got glasses. and then again, when she had lasik surgery," donghyun says casually, opening the café door as the two of you enter.

"you - you weren't even in our class," you say, shivering even in the warmth of the café. donghyun seems to notice, by the way that he draws closer to you - so close that you can see the faint freckle by his eye.

"no," he agrees simply. "but i knew anyway."

"you paid that much attention to me?" you ask incredulously. donghyun shrugs, nudging you forward when the person in front of you orders.

"i've always paid that much attention to you, y/n. i just don't think you ever paid that attention to me," donghyun says faintly. you feel weak in the knees at the insinuation, moving forward somewhat dazedly.

"a caramel macchiato, vanilla latte, an americano, and a hot ginger tea please," donghyun says, completely ignoring you when you offer your card to the cashier, swiping his quickly.

"you didn't have to buy coffee for me," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear. donghyun tilts his head, eyes forming little crescents at your gesture.

"hmm." the two of you find a table to sit at while you wait for your orders to come out before you turn to donghyun, curiosity blatant on your face.

"how did you know my coffee order?"

"like i said, y/n. i've noticed you for a while before you ever noticed me."

+++

"you had everything in place! why didn't you tell her about your feelings?" jihyo cries out from where she's sitting in donghyun's beanbag chair, dongmin sitting right next to her, squishing the poor beanbag to near smithereens.

"i agree with her! why didn't you tell her about your feelings?" dongmin exclaims. donghyun rolls his eyes, throwing the tennis ball in his hands at the ceiling before catching it and throwing it back up.

"why is she invited to this anyway?" woonhak asks, even as he offers jihyo a chocopie from the stash of snacks that sungho and jaehyun had gathered after raiding donghyun's pantry.

"because she's the object of this guy's affections for the past four years," sanghyeok says, pointing at jihyo and then donghyun. "it's good to get all of the firepower you can get, with how much a dunce this kid is."

"first of all, i'm not a dunce. and second of all, i haven't asked her out because i don't want to ask her out using one of you idiots' plan," donghyun explains. "i wanna ask her out the way i wanna ask her out."

dongmin sighs, shaking his head. "how is it that you're so mature and suave when you're speaking with y/n and you're such a child when you're with us."

"i think woonhak has cooties and donghyun somehow imbibes them whenever he's in a forty kilometer radius of him," jaehyun offers as explanation.

"shut up. you and i had the same idea for how donghyun should ask y/n out," woonhak reminds jaehyun to which jaehyun has no choice but to just nod along, munching on a chocopie.

"anyway. can we talk about dongmin and jihyo for a second. how the hell is it that y/n and i went to the café while you two were fighting like cats and dogs about the best mcr song and we come back to you to basically making out in the library," donghyun says, turning in his swivel chair to smile smugly at the conjoined twins on his beanbag chair.

"shut up!" jihyo yells, throwing a chocopie wrapper, only to incite more laughter from the boys when it falls to the floor pathetically.

"hey, to be fair, it only took us about two years of knowing each other to start dating," dongmin specifies. "it's just that the past month of trying to push you and y/n together pushed us together enough for us to realize that maybe dating wouldn't be such a bad idea."

jihyo and donghyun exchange a look (a threatening glare from jihyo and very thinly surpressed smirk from donghyun) - something, which unfortunately, does not go unnoticed by the rest of the boys. especially dongmin, who twists to look at his girlfriend with an unbelieving look.

"no way. don't tell me you also have some pining love story like donghyun," dongmin incredulously. at jihyo's silence, the entire group erupts into chaos, with sungho and donghyun (after feeling guilty) trying to silence them in vain.

"oh my god, just when i thought they couldn't get any more insufferably cute!"

"god, i hate both of them."

"why is everyone so bad at confessing their feelings."

"i'm gonna tell my girlfriend about this; she's gonna find this hilarious."

"i REALLY need to stop being single."

dongmin just ignores all of them, pressing a chaste kiss to jihyo's cheek when he realizes that she's gone bright red from the attention to her feelings.

donghyun mimes throwing up when he does so but can't help the smile on his face when he turns to his phone.

"anyway, anyway. back to the donghyun and y/n intervention," jihyo says, clearing her throat. she still earns a couple cheeky grins but manages to turn the gazes of the group to the individual sitting at his desk, frozen in his spot.

"what's wrong?" woonhak asks concernedly. donghyun just lifts up his phone to show the others in the room.

y/n (<3): hey, can we talk?

TRIAL FIVE: DONGHYUN'S PLAN

"y/n? is everything alright?" donghyun says, his footsteps masked by the snow that didn't melt from when it snowed again a few days ago.

you look up at him with a nervous smile. "yeah, everything's fine. um...do you wanna sit down?"

you scoot over to make space for donghyun on the bench you were sitting on. the bench faced the pond, somewhat concealed from the busy streets of seoul by the various coniferous trees that lined the public park.

"sure. yeah." donghyun takes a seat next to you, knee bouncing nearly as soon as he sits down.

"you look nervous," you say gingerly.

"you look nervous," donghyun echoes.

"touché." you fiddle with your hands, the evening suddenly feeling a lot colder than you thought it would be. donghyun notices, just as he notices everything, and for some reason, he shifts so that he's sitting on his hands. almost as he was physically stopping himself from doing something.

"so...what did you want to talk about?" donghyun asks, watching as a young child tries to escape his father's grip to run straight down the little slope that fed into the pond.

"nothing," you squeak out before shutting your eyes tight when you feel donghyun turn to look at you instead of the pond.

"oh. did - did you just want company as you sat outside for a bit?" donghyun stutters, not sure of what to do with himself.

"no," you start, before shaking your head at your own words. "i mean, i do have something to say. i'm just trying to find the words to say it."

"you know, i've been meaning to tell you something to you too," donghyun says tenderly and you immediately nudge him, encouraging him to go ahead and say his piece first.

"no way, you have to tell me first," donghyun defends, turning his nose up away from you when you try to catch his eye, trying to grasp his jacket to turn him towards you.

"i'm nervous, donghyun. can't you do me a favor and go ahead first?" you plead and donghyun melts, unable to hear any sort of sorrow in your voice - for whatever reason.

"alright, how about we say it at the same time?" he proposes and you concede as you nod, retracting your hand, not noticing the way that donghyun's gaze follows your movement.

he lifts three fingers, then folds one, until there's only one left. you shut your eyes, unable to see the expression on his face.

"i like you!"

"i love you."

you immediately open your eyes, jaw hanging as you stare at donghyun, who looks equally flummoxed by your words.

"you like me?" he asks, pointing a finger at you. you turn the finger back at him incriminatingly.

"you love me?" you gasp and donghyun's gaze grows tender, taking his other hand to trap your hand between his two large ones.

"for a while," he admits sheepishly, a shyness so uncharacteristic to the gentlemanly and smooth donghyun you were used to. "i've been trying to confess to you for the past month now. you just...never noticed."

you laugh besides yourself, immediately willing all laughter away when donghyun looks at you with a hurt expression.

"you've been trying to confess to me? donghyun, i've been trying to confess to you for the past month!"

"what?" he stammers. "you've been what for the past month?"

"yes, you fool. i've been trying to confess to you for months. i've liked you for months! and then when you asked jihyo and i to the movie, i figured that it was dongmin's scheme to ask jihyo out so i decided to use the chance to ask you out. and then the whole tickets fiasco happened," you explain, inching closer to him. donghyun uses the opportunity to thread his hand with your own, tugging you close to him so that his body warmth could envelope your shivering frame.

"and then you spent the next hour talking about the movie and you just seemed so excited that i didn't want to distract you. and you know, you're cute, when you're excited," you continue, grinning stupidly when donghyun turns away his head to hide his shy expression.

"so this whole month, you've been trying to confess to me too?"

"donghyun, you say i haven't paid attention but i swear to god, you are so dense sometimes."

TRIAL SIX: Y/N'S PLAN

"look, look," jihyo whispers under her breath as donghyun enters the classroom. you don't look up, not wanting to feed into jihyo's taunts, knowing that it would only serve as fodder for her teasing later on. you wait for donghyun to pass by your desk to the back of the classroom, where he sat everyday, staring out of the window rather than paying attention to any of the classes. any of the classes other than biology, that was.

but to your surprise, donghyun stops at your desks, talking to jihyo about some movie or another. a pang of jealousy that you try to swat away strikes in your chest before you hear dongmin's name and hear donghyun's attempts to keep from snickering in jihyo's face

ah. so he was just the messenger for dongmin.

you continue to write, not sure of what exactly you were writing anymore as you were trying not to make it overt that you were listening to jihyo and donghyun's conversation.

"i know you have tutoring today, but push it back until seven in the evening," jihyo whispers hotly once donghyun has disappeared from earshot.

"you have a movie date."

+++

"are you going to finally use this chance to ask him out?" jihyo asks when she catches you staring at the tall boy conversing with his friend outside the theatre hall as the two of you stood in line for refreshments.

"that's the goal," you respond with a sigh. "i don't know if he feels the same but i don't want to regret never telling him about my feelings."

jihyo nudges you softly. "hey, don't have such a negative outlook. you don't know how he feels, right? don't knock it before it happens."

you don't respond, watching donghyun chasing his friend around with a blithe smile, waving the tickets in the air.

+++

"i personally thought that the best part of the movie was when the dad ended up inside..." donghyun rambles excitedly, holding scoops of popcorn in his hands as he explains his theories to dongmin. you can't help the smile on your face as you watch him act so carefree and enthusiastic. dongmin nods along, explaining his own theory every so often.

jihyo's eyes dart between donghyun and dongmin before she slumps down, taking a long sip of her fanta. "somehow, i don't think that any level of confession is going to happen today."

you just laugh, content to listen to your friends discuss their favorite scenes from the movie before clicking your phone open, only to curse when you realized you only had a few minutes before tutoring.

"i'm so sorry - i have to get going!" you say hurriedly, gathering your things as quick as you can before you rush out of the theatre, wincing when you realize the amount of courage you'd have to work up once again to confess to him.

but donghyun just watches your uncomfortable expression as you rush away, unsure of it was his fault.

+++

you sit up in your bed, accepting the bowl of soup that donghyun hands you, trying your best to ignore the tingle of electricity that runs down your spine when your fingers brush against his.

your focus fades in and out of the comfortable rhythm of the conversation as you sip on the soup when jihyo drops the daunting copy of notes she'd written for you on your desk.

"i can help you," donghyun says, anchoring back to the conversation. you try not to show the fact that your heartbeat is now around the same decibel as a plane taking off, instead trying to deny his offer for fear that spending too much time together might cause to spit out the words you've been chewing on day and night for the past few days.

but something about the way that he says he's more than happy to help you and that you're not being a bother by asking for help makes you stutter for just a moment and in a second of weakness, you accept his help.

"friend." the word feels surprisingly bitter on your tongue when you echo the way donghyun says it, like its been dripped in lead in the way that it sits so heavy.

not when you wanted so much more

+++

"you know what, this will be the perfect timing for you and i to ask them both out," jihyo says, opening the door to the library as the two of you head inside.

"i still cannot believe you and him have been fighting like cats and dogs and you think that it's peak romance," you laugh as jihyo shoves you playfully.

"whatever," she says before turning to you, surprisingly serious. "alright, promise me that you'll ask him out. whenever i'm alone with dongmin, i'll confess my feelings for him so you have to promise that you'll confess your feelings to donghyun."

you interlock your pinky with her, only to drop your hands when you stumble across donghyun and dongmin, who are sitting with their heads together, looking not too unlike head-butting bulls.

"oh. have we interrupted something?" you ask through a stifled giggle, causing donghyun and dongmin to spring apart. you swear that dongmin quite literally is suspended in air for a good two seconds before landing once more in his chair.

"no, no, not at all. come y/n. you and i can sit here," donghyun says, pulling out a chair for you to sit in.

you try your best to ignore jihyo's gaze as you pull out your textbooks, ready to learn as much biology as you possibly could. and maybe put off any sense of confession for as long as possible.

+++

"weren't you the one who said that you didn't want to regret not confessing your feelings to him?" jihyo points out, stirring a mug of hot chocolate. you nod, slumping in your chair.

"i know..." you scramble to straighten your posture as you lean over the table to look at jihyo. "how did you ask out dongmin?"

she shrugs, uncharacteristically shy as she takes a sip of hot chocolate. "i didn't. dongmin asked me out."

you groan, sliding down your chair once more. "why can't donghyun ask me out? what if i just never work up the courage to ask him out?"

jihyo just laughs at your torment when her phone buzzes. she pulls her phone out of her pocket before reading the text message.

dongminnie mouse: donghyun's house in twenty. you're officially on the donghyun and y/n intervention squad >:)

she pockets her phone once more before sliding her hot chocolate over to you before gathering her belongings.

"where you going?" you call out, passing off the hot chocolate to your brother padding down the stairs. jihyo slips her shoes on before turning around with a shit-eating grin.

"to go and fix your issue for you!"

TRIAL SEVEN: FATE'S PLAN

"that's one killer best friend," donghyun huffs as he pieces together the entire situation together. "if only dongmin was as competent; we'd have had this conversation months ago."

you rest your head against donghyun's shoulder, watching as the sun slowly begins to start its descent into the horizon.

"i don't know. i'm kinda glad that things worked out the way that they did. what if i didn't feel as strongly as i do now? maybe this was all meant to be," you say softly. donghyun smiles, turning to look you in the eyes.

just as sparkly, bright and so full of affection as you knew his eyes would be.

he leans in close, just a breath away from you as his eyes never leave yours.

"really? and if i say i love you right now?" he asks, and you forget why you'd ever been scared to confess to this boy, so full of love just for you.

you lean in even closer, pressing your lips against in a sweet, tender kiss, smiling when his lips seem follow yours even with his eyes closed.

"does that answer your question?"

"more than enough."

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris)

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy". note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons. Also, this story is angsty with a happy ending - it does not contain any smut or suggestive themes. [A/N: This is my first SMAU and hooooooly shit did I totally underestimate how much work it is, and how things work within Tumblr to make it look alright. If you have any tips, let me know lol. I had to split it up in pieces, but i've got all the content written out already, so will be updated soon with the next part!]

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

December, 2025

February, 2026

[Excerpt from red carpet interview at the Grammy's with Y/N]

How are you feeling tonight? You're up for 3 awards, one of them Album of the Year for All I Ever Needed - that's huge!

"It's so overwhelming, to be honest."

Even when you've gone through this experience before? This is your fourth time attending, second time as nominee.

"Yeah, maybe even more so! It's a great chance to hang out with friends and meet new people, but it's also really prestigious still. Being nominated - I try to act like it doesn't matter, because awards always involve politics too - but at the end of the day, you do want it."

And who're you most looking forward to seeing tonight?

"Honestly? I came alone tonight, so I can't wait to find Sabrina [Carpenter] and Jade. I'm gonna need my girls."

Your friend Miley is also up for an award tonight in the same category, what's that like?

"Ha, if the Grammy's do the right thing tonight she'll win it - I know I voted for her!"

You'll also be performing one of your songs - Ruin My Life, can you tell us a bit about what to expect?

"I really wanted this to be visually interesting, but it took me a while to get the right concept for it. I think it's because to me this album and song already feel sort of far removed, and lived in? I'm in a different phase of my life right now, so I had to find a new way to still connet to it. I was really grateful to work with a great art director to bring a different version to the stage."

March, 2026

July, 2026

[SkyNews excerpt]

Lando Norris wins Silverstone GP, dedicates his 20th podium win to his family

The man of the hour is none other than Lando Norris, who’s just gone on to claim his 20th victory at his home race. You’re reading that right, his home race! While he still owns his apartment in Monaco, Norris revealed today that he’s been living back in England for the past few months. “I just wasn’t in the right headspace anymore and wanted to live closer to my family. Especially now that my brother’s kids are growing up, I just like knowing I could drive over – rather than having to fly across countries.”

Speaking on the importance of his family being present, Norris shared that it means everything to him. “In this sport you need to have skill, talent, trust and investment from your team, but also you need that stable sense of safety from the people you love. If your mindset isn’t there, you can’t be competitive.”

Norris has been vocal about mental health in the past, and has advocated for more access to mental healthcare facilities and professionals across motorsport.

“Especially in tougher years where there’s just a lot of noise and turmoil, it’s nice to have a professional coach you to mental fitness as well.”

It was the only notable reference to Norris’ private life, which ended on a low note last year after splitting from long-time girlfriend y/n l/n. The two were originally thought to have had an amicable split, but recent reports hint at a different story, with Norris unfollowing his ex and her friends unfollowing him in return.

August, 2026

September, 2026

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

Part II can be read here! likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥

[13uswntimagines]

All In My Head (Alessia Russo X Singer!r)

Part III of the Safe Harbor Universe. Find other parts here

Summary: Being Sick on tour sucks, but that doesn't mean that you want your team to inform your girlfriend. She has her own career to think about. The problem is that honesty is rule number 1 in your relationship.

Warnings: there is mention of a D/s dynamic, but nothing is super explicit. Alessia is referred to as daddy.

Authors note: Yes the ending is a cliffhanger. But this has honestly been in my drafts since like August, so i wanted to put it out. I'm considering a Pt. 2, but it will depend on if people want it. I really hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think.

You sighed heavily, leaning against the stadium's cool stone wall and twisting the bracelet around your wrist. 

Which stadium, you couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, really. They all looked the same after a while anyway, blurring together in the never-ending cycle of rehearsals, performances, interviews, and meet and greets. 

All your life seemed to be was performing and promoting music you weren’t even excited about anymore. It was a nonstop grind filled with late nights and early mornings, with almost no time for your well-being. 

You almost wished your girlfriend had implemented a rule that placed a limit on how much you could do. At least that would give you the power to say no. 

You did your best. 

You squeezed in as many phone calls with your girlfriend, Alessia as you could, but she had her own commitments with the Lionesses as they prepared to defend their European championship.

Most of the time you ended up passing out over FaceTime, and waking up to texts telling you she loved you. 

You understood. You both had careers and obligations. You both had to make sacrifices to get to do the things you loved. 

It was… intense, but for the most part, you enjoyed it. You loved playing for the fans. You would deal with all the promotional bs just so you could interact with the people who loved your music as much as possible. 

They deserved that. 

And this tour had been going far better than the ones you had been on before it. You were holding it all together far better than you had in the past. 

Or it had been. 

It all started with a slight tickle in your throat in the city before last. A whisper of huskiness that went away with a nice steam session and some tea. 

It was easy to ignore in the beginning. 

Then you played 4 shows back to back last weekend. 

By the end of the 3rd show, you knew you were screwed, you could barely muster a horse whisper. Alessia had commented that you sounded like a chain smoker, your first sign that she was seeing through you, but you assured her you would be fine. You even joked that you had enough throat coat and grether's pastilles to turn her off for a year. She let you soothe her worries. 

You pushed on, powered my menthol lozenges and Honey, and you made it through the 4th show. 

It would have been fine. It shouldn’t have mattered that your ability to make any sound at all was hanging on by a thread. The 5 days off you had should have been enough to set everything right.

Except you didn’t have 5 days off. 

It was filled with promotional performances for a new album and interviews about how well it would accompany the movie it was attached to. If someone else asked you about how it felt about the possibility of an Oscar nod, you were going to scream. Or rip all of your hair out or both.

The tickle had turned to hot nails, and nothing - not the steam machine or tea and honey - had the power to soothe it. 

You sounded like you were talking through gravel, and your team had been hesitant to even let you go on tonight. 

Alessia definitely would not have, if she knew how bad it really was. You started avoiding her two days ago after you couldn’t make it through a sentence without a crack, and you couldn’t continue to blame the low whistle that accompanied every one of your breaths on allergies. 

You knew going in that performing tonight wasn’t a great idea, but you refused to let the fans down. There were only 4 shows left. Surely you could make it. 

The entire show felt like a battle. 

You had to fight for every note. For every breath. 

Your lungs felt like they were on fire and your throat was raw before you even got to the piano set. 

It took everything in you to hide the thinness in your voice. To prevent every sound from cracking as you forced each lyric out. 

It was…rough to say the least. 

But you made it- even if it was only by the skin of your teeth. 

You were shot by the time you did your final bow and disappeared backstage. You ignored the cold Gatorade being pressed into your palms, knowing it would only aggravate the glass shards in your throat, and shrugged off Steven and Clint. 

You didn’t need their concern, you needed to escape the roaring in your ears. The pounding in your chest. 

So you took turn after turn until you were in an abandoned section of hallways. 

You sighed, grasping at your throat as you slid down the cool wall, pulling your knees to your chest and pressing your forehead into the rough material of your costume to drown out the pounding in your head. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the back of your head and you groaned. 

The sound felt like hot coals in your throat, and it made your chest ache. 

You feared that no amount of steam, or tea, or pastilles would stop it this time. 

The cold bricks of the stadium felt nice against your skin, leaching the heat from your body, though it did nothing to help the fire in your chest. 

A fire that was quickly moving past the gray areas in your agreement with Alessia, and into a place that your daddy would definitely have something to say about. 

You were treating your limits with her like a tightrope, carefully toeing the edge. Except with the way you felt, you knew you were about to topple one way or the other. 

You ignored the sounds of clicking shoes coming closer, hoping that whoever it was wouldn’t see you. That they would leave you be to pull the cracked pieces of yourself back together. 

But your team knew better than to leave you to your own devices.

“Y/n?”

You tensed at the soft hand on your shoulders, and the sound of shifting clothing as someone settled on the ground beside you. 

“You ok, kid?” Natasha asked softly, running soothing circles on the top of your shoulders. 

You let out another breath before you pulled your face from its hiding spot, resting your chin on your knees. “I’m ok. Just wanted some quiet,”

You frowned at the horse whisper that left your lips, and the flair of pain that accompanied it. 

Natasha hummed. 

She had been part of your team from the beginning, back when you were a dumb 16-year-old, long before Pepper, Tony, Steve and the rest of the crew had joined, and she knew you nearly as well as Alessia did. 

She raised an eyebrow at you. “Just some quiet?” 

You knew that wasn’t what she was actually asking. 

The question went much deeper. 

She knew about your… dynamic with Alessia, and she had seen the striker take care of you in various ways. She was asking you what you needed. 

You nodded, looking away from her, afraid that she would see through you. 

“I needed a minute,” You said, your voice barely a squeak. “It was all too much, and I wanted to be alone before I got pulled into something else,”

She made a low sound at the familiar explanation. “And this has nothing to do with how you sound like you’re gargling rocks?”

You grimaced. “Nothing at all,”

She hummed. “So you’re not in any pain at all?”

“Nope,” You breathed out, the p the only clear part of the word. 

“Y/n,” She sighed. “I know you have an… aversion to admitting when you’re not… at the top of your game, but pushing yourself isn’t going to help anything. You don’t have anything to prove here,”

You ran a hand through your hair and rolled your eyes dramatically at her. She chuckled at the action. 

“There are only 3 more shows,” You said. “I can make it 3 more shows,”

“And how would Alessia feel if she knew you were going to put your comfort aside for 3 more shows?” Natasha asked softly. “And not just your comfort, your health. You sound like shit,”

You huffed at the mention of your girlfriend, your fingers instinctively finding the braided bracelet that never left your wrist. 

You knew how she would feel. You could practically hear what she would say. I expect you to take care of the things that belong to me. I expect you to treat them with respect and give them the love and care they deserve. 

“I’ve got it all under control,” You rasped, wincing at the action. 

It was Natasha’s turn to roll her eyes. “Sure you do. Since you have it all under control, you’ll stop ignoring your girlfriend,” She pulled the device out of her back pocket and balanced it on top of your knees. “She’s been blowing up your phone all day. I think she’s worried,” 

You stared at the phone, and as if on cue, it buzzed again with a new message. 

Alessia was going to be furious with you, and your daddy would be on another level entirely. 

She was usually the one to take the reigns when you were set on driving yourself into oblivion for the benefit of everyone else. But she wasn’t here. 

You sighed heavily. 

You knew that if you told her, she would drop everything. She would move heaven and earth if that was what you needed. 

You didn’t want that. 

She needed to focus on her game, and that meant that you couldn’t be a distraction. You would not disappoint her. Not when you were so close to finishing. 

“She needs to focus,” You mumbled, your voice straining. “She’s gotta impress Sarina to make the team. It’s important,”

“I think you forget that you are also important,” Natasha argued back softly, patting your back before carefully pushing herself to her feet. “I’m going to have Pepper cancel the meet and greet. You’re in no shape to meet fans. I should also have her call a doctor, but I already know you’ll fight me on it,” 

You frowned. You never sold meet and greet tickets, choosing to instead have your team select fans at each show. 

“But-“ 

She held up her hand before you could argue. “That isn’t up for debate. Get rest tonight, and we’ll assess tomorrow in the morning.”

Your jaw clenched, but you nodded, knowing there was no arguing with her. 

“I know the world thinks you’re superhuman, but it’s ok not to be indestructible,” She said, softly. “You need to remember to be Clarke Kent sometimes too. There’s a reason Lois fell in love with him first,”

With that, she walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

The silence of the empty hallway wasn’t as welcoming as it had been. It didn’t quiet your thoughts like it had. 

Instead, it felt suffocating. Like the walls were closing in on you, trapping you in your misery. 

You sighed another painful breath, before you grabbed your phone, reading the top notification, longing not to feel so…alone. 

Hey babe, caught the end of your show on a random livestream. Are we still on for our FaceTime tonight?

You let your head fall back, thumping the wall. 

Everything in you longed to say yes.

But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. 

It was still nice to fantasize about seeing her. About hearing her say ‘Hello my little one,’ with a soft smile that brought out her dimples. If you closed your eyes you could almost feel the pressure of her fingers on the back of your neck, running through the baby hairs that lived there. ‘I’m here, and I’ve got you,’

You let your mind linger there for a long second before you forced your eyes back open. 

It took you three tries to type out your reply: sorry darling, I’m super tired. Rain check?

And you paused, your trembling finger over the send button, knowing you shouldn’t send it, but hitting the little blue arrow anyway. 

It was awful but necessary. 

You let out another long, ragged breath before you forced yourself to your feet and shoved your phone into your pocket, so you didn’t have to see her reply. You leaned heavily on the wall, no longer enjoying how it sucked the warmth from your skin, but using it to stay upright as the entire hallway tilted to the side. 

You should go back to your dressing room before Steve sent out a search party. Dealing with Nat was one thing, dealing with the overprotective instincts of Steve, Clint, and Thor was another. 

You didn’t have the mental capacity for that, and maybe your dressing room couldn’t make you feel like there was a rope on your lungs, dragging out your soul.

*****

You were not particular about a lot of things when you were on tour. You didn’t care about the size of your hotel room or the cars you were shuttled around in. You didn’t request overly expensive foods or special bubbly waters. 

The only thing on your rider that you were very specific about was your dressing room. 

It was your sanctuary away from the noise. A place you would spend more time in than your hotel room. 

It was important to you that it was always the same. Lit with twinkling fairy lights, the comfy gray couch that followed you on every tour stop standing near the table with your kettle and vocal steamer, and a diffuser already filling the room with the soft scent of lavender and honey. 

It filled your lungs the second you stepped through the door, wiping away the burning ache that accompanied every breath for just a second. Reminding you for one fleeting moment of the honeysuckle of Alessia’s favorite shampoo (the reason she picked the essential oil blend to begin with), before the knives returned to your chest. 

You rubbed your knuckles over your sternum to quell the feeling, stumbling over to the couch and collapsing into it. 

You pressed your nose into the soft gray material, wishing that you had grabbed the bright red sweatshirt you stole from your girlfriend when you last saw her. The smell of her perfume was beginning to fade, but it wasn’t gone yet, and there was a distinct longing in your stomach to be close to her. Even if you were the reason there was any space to begin with. 

You could hear your kettle bubbling next to you, and you knew you should make yourself some tea to soothe the sharp edges in your windpipe, but the thought of moving felt like too much. 

Instead, you sunk into the couch, your arm dangling off the cushion, your fingers brushing the ugly red carpet. 

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, and you didn’t have to look to know who was texting you. Still, the urge to see what she would say was too great for you to ignore it. 

It took all of your strength to move your heavy arm to your pocket and pull out your phone. Your fingers fumbled over the screen as you squinted at the device with the eye not pressed into the couch. 

The light made the throbbing in your head worse, and the words written on the screen made your lungs constrict.

Ok, my love. Are you sure everything is alright? This is the 3rd time this week.

You could almost hear the worry in her voice. See the suspicion in her blue eyes. 

They never failed to see through you. To strip away your exterior and leave you vulnerable and raw beneath them. It never made you feel exposed, even in the beginning when the two of you decided to extend your dynamic beyond your bedroom. Instead, you felt seen and safe. 

Sometimes she liked to have to work for your submission. She liked to peel away each layer of you one by one until you were a trembling mess beneath her. Open and vulnerable in a way no one else ever got to see you. 

Other times, you gave your submission willingly, stripping off your public persona like a dirty shirt and allowing her to envelop you in her warm comfort. 

How much you wanted that. How much you needed it. 

It was a desperation that filled your entire being. 

Before you could process what you were doing, you had already pressed her contact photo and brought the now-ringing phone to your ear. 

You laid the device on the side of your head and let your arm go back to dangling. It was too heavy to hold. 

It only rang twice before her voice filled your ears. 

“Hey my love,” She said, worry and relief mingling strangely in her tone. “I’m so happy you called me. How are you?”

Her voice washed over you like a soothing wave, like a balm on the sharp edges of your nerves, though it did little to help the fire in your lungs and throat. 

You pressed your nose into the couch, pretending that it was her shoulder for just a second. That the honey and lavender surrounding you was her perfume. That she was here. 

“Y/n, are you there?” She asked, and you opened your mouth to respond, but the words just wouldn’t come out. 

You couldn’t force any sound, beyond a low whistle past your inflamed throat. Your lungs crackled with each breath. 

Your inability to make sound didn’t bother you as much as it should have. 

“Y/n? Did you butt-dial me?” Alessia asked again, and you could almost feel her running her nails through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. “I’m worried,”

The words were said with too much force, not at all the soft murmur your brain had been waiting to hear. 

It shook you out of your haze just enough for you to reach up and grab your phone, clicking the decline button too fast. 

You let the phone drop to the floor with a low thump as it immediately began to ring again. 

Your fingers twitched above the screen, but you didn’t have the strength to reach for it, even as it lit up again with your girlfriend's contact photo. 

Well, it was a photo of the two of you. You were curled up in her lap, in one of her blue UNC sweatshirts that were too big, and she was kissing the side of your head. 

It had been taken after a particularly grueling day in the studio. It was Alessia’s turn to host team bonding night. You didn’t remember exactly who took the picture, Leah or Lotte, maybe, but it was one of your favorites.

What the camera didn’t catch was that your arms were not in the sleeves. Instead, they were tied with intricate knots behind your back, hidden by the sweatshirt. 

It was something the two of you often did, and it was one of her go-to's when you were starting to spiral out of control. 

A part of you longed for the feeling of the knots now, and her fingers twisting the soft rope against your skin. 

Sure, the weight of your bracelet was nice, but it wasn’t enough. 

You let out a wheezing breath that crackled and hurt. 

If you asked, she would be here. She would wrap you up and pull you from your free fall. 

It took you a long second to remember why you couldn’t have that. 

Alessia had a job to do, and you wouldn’t stand in the way of that. 

The phone buzzed again against the ugly carpet, the little voicemail icon flashing. You doubted you would be able to resist calling her back if you listened to it.  

Still, you had to do something. 

So you flicked the screen with one finger, going to your messages, and typing out words that felt fake, even to you. 

Sorry, I’m ok. Just tired. I’ll call you tomorrow after the game. Love you.

You clicked send before you could overthink it though, or your trembling fingers could betray you and type out the truth. You laid your head back down on the couch, curling into yourself as a painful cough forced its way past your lips. 

You weren’t sure how long you laid there, shivering before there was a soft knock at the door, and then the little click as it opened. 

A part of your brain hoped that it would be Alessia. That she had read your mind and somehow teleported to whatever city you were in. 

But the feeling of gentle fingers on the top of your shoulders told you that it wasn’t. 

“Y/n?” Natasha asked, very close to your ear, and you blinked up at her. 

You didn’t remember closing your eyes. 

“Hm?” You hummed, the sound raw and painful. 

“Let’s get you changed, and then we can go back to the hotel and you can sleep,” She said, placing a hand under your armpit and guiding you to a sitting position. 

The tiny movement had coughs ripping past your lips. 

She held you steady with one hand and grabbed you a change of clothes with the other. 

“Easy,” She breathed out, carefully unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it from your sweaty skin. 

She left you shirtless for a long second as she disappeared into your bathroom, and the cool air of the dressing room felt nice on your overheated skin. 

It didn’t bother you. Natasha had seen you in far less clothing than your sports bra and underwear. 

She returned only a moment later with a towel, using it to dry you off before she slipped a light blue t-shirt with a foot on the back over your head. 

The pants took a little more wiggling, but eventually, she was able to get you out of your costume and into a pair of sweats that were far too big for you.

She slid a pair of Converse onto your feet, scooping up your phone and tucking it into her pocket. 

“Let’s get you to the car,” She guided you to stand, keeping an arm wrapped tightly around you. 

“People?” You asked, leaning more of your weight onto her as she pulled you towards the door. 

You missed her eye roll. 

Of course, all you were worried about right now was who would see you, and what they would think. 

“Not here,” Natasha reassured you gently, opening the door. “Only when we get back to the hotel,”

You made a low, painful sound as she half-carried you into the hallway. 

You still had time before you had to pull yourself together. 

******

The city lights blurred into a distorted kaleidoscope of colors during the short ride back to the hotel. 

The cool glass felt nice against your temple, though it did little to ease the throb in your head or the lava in your throat. 

The feeling of eyes watching you for any wavering in your resolve also wouldn’t go away. You couldn’t be sure if it was worry (that you would puke all over the car or pass out), or concern about what the fans would think when you pulled up to the hotel. 

The whirring of the engine wasn’t loud enough to block out your racing thoughts, but any music was too much for you to handle. 

You were drowning. 

Every breath hurt, but you didn’t know if it was because of the physical pain or the anxiety gnawing at you. 

You didn’t like to upset people. You didn’t like to disappoint them. 

You were a people pleaser to a fault, and this wasn’t the first time you had self-destructed to meet everyone’s expectations. 

But at the end of the day, the person you wanted to please most. The person you wanted to not disappoint the most was Alessia. Was your Daddy. 

You knew you were failing, but you didn’t know how to stop.

The car came to a stop in front of the hotel far too quickly, and not for the first time, you were thankful that the dark tint kept you hidden from public view. 

“Ready, kid?” Steve asked, turning around in the driver's seat to look at you. 

You nodded once, reaching forward and grabbing the sunglasses facing the wrong way on his head, and pulled them over your own eyes. 

You took a deep breath before Clint opened your door, painting your signature smile across your features. 

You didn’t wave when you got out, too focused on keeping yourself upright, as Steve’sarm wrapped around you on one side and Natasha’s did the same on the other. 

You felt safe tucked between them, though they did nothing to shield you from shrill screams and cheers that met you as soon as your feet touched the ground. They amplified the pounding behind your eyes, and the way the crowd pressed around you made it even harder to breathe (not that you thought that was possible). 

You did try to flash the crowd smiles as Natasha and Steve guided you through, Clint protecting your back, and you were thankful your eyes were hidden, despite it being nighttime. 

You never wanted the fans to see the… fakeness. The lie.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when the hotel doors slid closed behind you, placing more of your weight on Steve as Natash called the elevator. 

“You’re burning up kid,” Steve murmured, shifting to get a better grip around your waist. 

You made a low sound, that turned into a full body caught that nearly had you doubling over. “Is that your way of calling me hot Stevie? What would Tony think?”

The words came out garbled, cracking with every syllable as you tried to talk through the coughs. 

Steve’s arm tightened around you to keep you upright. 

“I think he would say that you are sick,” Steve sighed at the mention of his husband, your publicist, taking more of your weight as another round of coughs wracked you. 

You pushed off of him as soon as you could breathe again, even if it felt like sucking air through a straw filled with needles, and swayed your way toward the elevator. 

It binged open as soon as you reached it, and you stumbled inside, gripping the metal bar on the back wall for support, and resting your forehead on the cool wall. 

You could feel the heat of your skin leaching into the surface, but it did little to quell the pounding in your ears or the feeling like everything was tipping on its head. 

Your fingers instinctively found the braided bracelet, running over the soft leather strands. 

However, this time, it didn’t ease the bubbling anxiety and fire in your chest. 

“We’re almost there, and then you can rest,” Natasha said softly, and you felt both her and Steve’s eyes on you as you leaned further into the wall. 

The movement of the elevator was starting to make you nauseous, but you didn’t think you could voice that even if you wanted to. Not with how raw your throat was. 

It took you a second to realize the elevator had stopped, and it wasn’t until Natasha gently touched your shoulder that you began to move again. 

You let Steve guide you out of the elevator and into the hallway. 

Natasha had the door to your suite open before you even got there, and Steve half-carried you to the bed, settling you on the fluffy white comforter. 

Your fingers tangled in the expensive sheets as you fought to keep yourself upright. 

“Do you want to take a shower?” Natasha asked you softly, kneeling in front of you and carefully undoing your sneakers. 

You shook your head slowly, smothering another cough. “Sweatshirt,”

The croaky word hurt as it left your lips, barely audible and surrounded by more lung-crunching coughs. 

But they understood, Steve, passing you a bright red sweatshirt from your bag. 

You brought it to your face and collapsed back onto the bed, breathing in the perfume that clung to the material. 

It burned as it filled your senses, but you could pretend that it soothed the edges of glass in your throat and lungs. You could pretend that it was her taking off your shoes and tucking you in. 

You could pretend that it was all ok and that she wasn’t going to be livid when she found out. Not that you were sick, but that you hadn’t told her immediately. 

You knew you would take whatever punishment she decided you deserved with no questions. She could be rather creative when she was annoyed with you. 

“Let’s get you settled properly,” Natasha said, shifting you on the bed so your head was on the pillows, as Steve moved the covers and tucked them around you. “Rest now, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning,” 

You groaned, sending more flames down your airway, rolling over and pressing your face more firmly into the sweatshirt. 

You heard the distinctive sound of your phone being plugged in, and the click of the door. 

And then you were alone. 

More alone than you had been in a very long time. 

Even if it was all your own doing, you hadn’t been this disconnected since the beginning of Alessia’s college career, and your first tour with Taylor. The infamous break in your relationship. Even though neither of you had actually experimented with anyone else, and you had texted and called nonstop, you had been hesitant to push too far, to ask for too much. 

You blew out a long breath into her sweatshirt, ignoring the little needles that followed the air, eyes fixed on the phone on your bedside. 

It buzzed again as if it knew you were thinking about it. 

You reached your hand out, pulling it close so you could look at it, but it was still plugged in. 

The movement had the screen lighting up with a string of messages. The one at the top made your heart hurt.

Please don’t ignore me, my Little One. I’m worried.

It said, and you could almost hear the inflection in her tone. You could almost see her eyes softening, and feel her fingers brushing your hair behind your ear. 

You closed your eyes, pressing more deeply into the sweatshirt under your head. 

Your fantasy world was far nicer than the reality you were in, and the universe wouldn’t end if you stayed in it until morning. 

********

Your night was… hazy, filled with half-dreams that were increasingly difficult to distinguish from real life. As the morning light crept its way further and further across the ceiling, you leaned into the sweatshirt slowly losing its smell, one eye peeking out to track its progress. 

It felt like a timer. A countdown clock on the imagined feelings of soothing hands on your back and whispered reassurance that everything would be okay. 

Soon enough the door would open and you would have to be you again. You would have to pretend like each breath you took didn’t feel like a bear was mauling your lungs, and your brain wasn’t a freight train threatening to escape from your skull. 

You would have to deal with the incessant buzzing of your phone that had kept you on the edge of real sleep all night. 

You would have to face your girlfriend. Your daddy. 

You were not looking forward to it. Any of it. 

The only thing that you were semi-excited about was watching your girlfriend play, even through a screen. That had been your only saving grace back when she was in college before the two of you got back together, and you knew it would be your only saving grace now. 

You sighed, rolling over, the sweatshirt falling from its bunched-up place against your cheek, and reaching for the phone still on the corner of the bed next to you. 

It buzzed again as your fingers caught it, and brought it closer so you could see the screen. It was filled with notifications. 

Some were from the group thread you shared with your manager, assistant, and publicist. Some were emails from people you were collaborating with. 

But the majority were from Alessia. 

You couldn’t help but click on the thread. 

You knew it was a mistake immediately. 

Good morning little one. I’ll have some time if you want to FaceTime before the game. I miss you, and I’m worried. You don’t usually ignore me.

It was like an arrow straight through your heart. 

A direct hit to your will. 

You swallowed hard, ignoring how badly it burned, and typed out a message. 

I miss you too. Good luck today. You’re going to do amazing

You dropped your phone after you hit send, deciding that finding the starting 11 wasn’t important anymore, and stared up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, pulling the comforter more tightly around you despite the sweat breaking out across your chest. 

You thought it would help the hollow feeling slowly taking over your insides, or the dull throb that accompanied each breath. 

It did not. 

You let your eyes slide back closed, deciding that the light hadn’t transversed far enough across the ceiling for you to need to be awake yet. Not when the pull of sleep was so strong, and the comfort of your half dreams was too difficult to resist. 

“You know I don't like it when you hide from me,” Alessia’s voice said sternly, as though it was right next to your ear, and you felt fingertips graze your lips. 

You didn’t open your eyes. Even amongst the haze that was filling every crack in your brain, you knew she wasn't here. She couldn’t be here. Not when she was back in London about to play some team you couldn’t remember. 

“I know,” You rasped out.  

The fingers gently pulled at your bottom lip before they circled back towards your cheek, and a thumb brushed across your closed eyelid. 

“And you’re still doing it?” She asked, and you felt the air of each word on your ear. 

You shook your head, turning it slightly, hoping to feel her nose bump hers. “You need to focus on the important things,” 

You didn’t come into contact with her, though you knew you should have with the way you shifted. 

“And you are not important to me?” She asked her voice hardening in the way it only did when you were about to receive a punishment. 

An involuntary shiver ran down your spine, and your eyes opened automatically. 

You sucked in a painful breath, blinking blearily at the face above you.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Natasha said quietly, even as your eyes darted around, searching for your girlfriend. “It’s 1, so you need to wake up so we can make a decision about tonight,” 

“Less?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper when you saw that Natasha was the only other person in the room with you. 

Natasha frowned, brushing your hair away from your forehead. “She’s in London, remember? The game against Luxembourg starts soon,” 

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together. You hadn’t remembered that they were playing Luxembourg. 

“She’s starting?” 

“No,” Natasha shook her head. “It’s mostly the young ones starting since the over-under is plus 20 for England,”

Your nose scrunched, and you forced yourself to sit up. “She has to play,”

None of this would be worth it if she never touched the field. 

“I think Serina is using this as more of an identification camp,” Natasha countered, stepping in to help you sit up. “The girls need rest after doing both the Champions League and regular play these last couple of weeks,”

You grunted though it sounded more like a pained wheeze than a grunt. 

Alessia’s schedule had been nearly as insane as your own for the past few months. It was part of the reason you were so… reluctant to bother her with something as trivial as a tickle in your throat. 

“Maybe you should take a page out of her book,” Natasha added. 

Your nostrils flared immediately at the implication. 

Your job was so much less physical than Alessia’s. You didn’t do anything to deserve rest like she did. 

The pressure you both face to perform was inherently different.

She didn’t let down millions of people every time she rode the bench. She wouldn’t crush the dreams of thousands of people if she didn’t take the pitch. 

But still, you could already hear her argument ringing in your head. 

I expect you to care for the things that belong to me as deeply and completely as I do. That includes yourself. Your needs matter, and I will not allow you to disregard them.

“No.” You rasped, none of the bite you meant appearing in the word. 

“Yes,” Natasha countered, shifting the pillows behind you before you leaned back. “There is no way you can perform tonight,”

You huffed, and crossed your arms, glaring at the city beyond the large window to the right of the bed. “People paid-“

“To hear you sing. Not hack your way through a set,” Natasha cut you off. “They’ll be more disappointed if you give them a show that’s not your best. Reschedule the last 3, so they’re worth what they paid,”

Your glare only deepened, and your eyebrows pulled very tightly together as you processed what she was saying (taking a few extra minutes to cut through the thick fog in your brain). 

You knew she was playing on your sensibility. You thought ticket prices were disgusting, and had fought to lower them as much as you could. You had made your show longer in retaliation, so the fans got what they paid for. 

You wouldn’t give them a sub-par show. 

You didn’t look at her but nodded once. 

“I’ll have Tony write a statement. Do you want to approve it before it goes out?” She asked, her voice gentle. 

You shook your head, your lips pursing. 

“We’ll release it then, and I’ll call a doctor so we can get you some real medication,” The redhead continued, ignoring the deep frown pulling at your features. 

It wasn’t that you were trying to be difficult. You just knew what would happen the second the people staked outside of your hotel caught sight of a doctor. 

But now you felt like you didn’t have a choice, and not in the fun way.

“Fine,” You muttered, a hacking cough following it. 

Natasha patted your back until the coughing stopped, and you relaxed back against the pillows. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll have food sent up, you just watch the game and try to get more sleep before the doctor gets here,”

You huffed but didn’t protest as she tucked the blanket tighter around your torso. 

“I know you’re unhappy with all of this, but it is what it is, and we need to look after your health too,” She sighed, turning and bustling around the room, flipping on the television to the game and grabbing a mug you hadn't noticed from the dresser by the door. “Drink that, and I’ll be back in a bit,”

You didn’t respond as she placed the mug on the table beside you, and disappeared through the hotel room door with a soft click. 

You wanted to groan. To yell. To throw the mug across the room, but you knew it wouldn’t help. 

The other part of you wanted your guitar, not that you were sure your fingers were strong enough right now to actually play.  

You closed your eyes, tilting your head back on the pillows. 

It wasn’t long before you felt fingers in your hair, though you hadn’t heard the door open again. 

You instantly knew who it was, though her perfume was suspiciously missing. 

“You look like you got hit by a bus,” She murmured, her breath brushing across your nose. 

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting her blue, except it was two shades darker than you remembered, the same shade as the old UNC jersey she was wearing. 

“I’m fine,” You croaked, the sound pulling a hacking cough from your lungs that burned as it left you. 

“Ah yes, because you sound just fine,” She huffed, her nails scratching lazily at your scalp. “You don’t need to hide from me,”

You blinked slowly, and her form shimmered slightly beside you. “‘M not. ‘M right here,”

“Rule one is honesty for a reason,” She countered, her hand pausing. “You’ve not abided by that.”

You swallowed around the glass in your throat at the confirmation of what you already knew, and your eyes closed again as the heavy weight of it settled on your mind. 

You had broken the most sacred rule and you were in trouble. It wouldn’t just be a punishment you would have to take. It would be regaining her trust that would take the longest time. 

It was a fragile thing, and you had shattered it. 

You forced your eyes open again, determined to say something- anything- that would make it better, except when you did, she was gone. 

You blinked heavily at the empty bed beside you. The space she had been seconds ago. 

You wanted to shake your head, but with the freight train pounding in your skull, you knew that was a terrible idea. 

“This is a very different starting eleven for England, but it’s what we expected. The only change of note is that Alessia Russo is unavailable for this game.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed at the television, flashing the starting lineup for the game. 

Natasha said Alessia wasn’t starting, but you expected her to at least be on the bench. 

You closed your eyes and let your head fall back. 

What was the point of suffering alone if Alessia wasn’t even going to play?

You weren’t sure anymore.

******

“I’ve got her,” 

You stirred at the familiar voice, and the feeling of gentle fingers running through your hair and the bed shifting next to you. The scent of lavender and honey wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, pulling you closer to consciousness. 

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together before your eyes flickered open, meeting the familiar blue of your girlfriend. 

“Hey there,” She said softly, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “How are you feeling?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing but a low hacking cough came out. 

“Easy, little one,” Alessia shushed you softly. “Just relax. I’m here, and I’ll take care of you now, ok?”

It was painful how real she felt. Painful how much you wanted to believe she was here with you. 

“Trouble,” You mumbled, coughing violently afterward, unable to stop yourself from leaning into her hand. 

“I think we should make it your middle name since you seem to find it so often,” She murmured, running her hand again through your hair. “But no. You’re not in trouble. Not right now,”

You made a low, wheezing sound, shaking your head, despite the waves of nausea it sent to your stomach. “Real daddy disagrees,” 

She frowned. “Real daddy?”

You swallowed hard, forcing words past your stolen vocal cords. “Not here. In Luxembourg. Won’t fool me again,” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She said, her nails dragging against your scalp in the way she knew you loved. “Natasha called me last night, and I got on the flight as soon as I could,”

It took a few extra seconds for her words to filter through the unpleasant haze in your brain. Even then, they didn’t make sense. 

Hell, her entire demeanor, including the softness in her features as she looked at you, didn’t make sense. 

You explicitly told Natasha not to call her, and you couldn’t process her going against that request. Not when Alessia had a game to play. 

“My brain is making you up,” You wheezed after another long second. 

She breathed out a half chuckle. “While your brain is brilliant, I wasn’t conjured by it,” 

You made a low, husky sound that could only be incredulity. 

Her thumb again smoothed the space between your eyebrows. “What will it take for you to believe you’re awake?”

You blinked heavily at her, your shoulders lifting and falling. 

She shook her head. “You’re too much,”

“No,” You mumbled, the crease between your eyebrows pushing against her finger. “‘M a good girl,”

“Yes. You are always my good girl, even when you’re being a stubborn pain in the ass,” She agreed fondly, leaning down to press a kiss to your too-warm forehead. “Sleep. I’ll be here where you wake up, and maybe you’ll actually believe you’re not dreaming,”

“Promise?” you asked. Sounding small, as exhaustion pulled at you. 

She hummed. “I promise,”

Her fingers kept their soft rhythm in your hair as your eyes fluttered closed, and you shifted to press your nose into her shoulder, breathing in her perfume with each rattling intake from your lungs. It surrounded you, soothing the burning in your chest, and soothing the sharp edges in your throat. 

For the first time since the lingering tickle started, you actually felt at peace. You felt calm enough to let yourself truly relax. 

It would suck when you woke up and Alessia was gone, but doing anything other than allowing your mind to linger in this delusion felt unbearable. 

Instead, you allowed yourself to sink into the overwhelming pull of exhaustion. 

And you swore you heard an “always,” before sleep pulled you under. 

Even if this alessia didn’t turn out to be real, you trusted her. And as angry as you wanted to be at Natasha and Steve for calling her, you knew she was exactly what you needed. 

She always would be, even if she was just made up in your mind. 

[stellerfly]

hi i want to actually add my own personal tidbit now so people stop thinking im some asshole. hi im tuna im a lesbian im 17 i am disabled and my favorite color is olive green. i really like to draw. my legs dont work right, and it can cause me serious back pain. i also have serious fatigue problems, wether from depression or something physical we aren't sure yet. Also i have hypophantasia which makes it difficult to draw from memory but idk. reference image.

i have a brother who has hands that don't work very well for a multitude of reasons, and he has more passion and drive for art than like anyone ever. every day they simply live and draw and it is amazing and i love them.

i don't like being told i don't know anything about disability or im ableist or i am a fake activist. i got told to go to a protest one time on this post, which was kind of funny because i recently couldnt go on a march because i couldn't walk far enough without my legs giving out. also im not an activist. i am an artist who is disabled and exists. i dont think i *need* to engage seriously with bad faith jerks.

nobody can draw exactly how they want to. that's the whole thing. but we try anyway. and i think it's awesome. i don't think art has a strict definition, because frankly, i don't care. i like art history a lot also, and i enjoy a lot of contemporary art (commonly referred to as "modern" art even though that's not what it's actually called), so im used to a lot of "well that's not art." and i think it's stupid every time. no exceptions. anyway. i don't know go create something no matter how small. or don't that's up to you.

"ai is making it so everyone can make art" Everyone can make art dipshit it came free with your fucking humanity

[gor3-hound]

KISS AND MAKE UP — NAOYA + TOJI

a/n: another commission for my faveeee @nexysworld. MWAH. just a heads up, naoya is referred to as reader n toji’s cousin just cause second cousin sounded weird in writing idk.

cw: 18+ content. daddy-daughter incest (toji), cousin incest (toji/naoya-ish. naoya/reader). threats + slapping (directed at naoya). misogyny. kinda maybe brief dub-con. p in v. oral (f + m receiving). fem!reader. slapping. hair pulling. creampie.

2.8k words

Your dad has been gone for the better part of a week when he decides to wander into the house one morning — surprisingly early giving his typical track record of showing up well past midnight. You’re nursing a cup of coffee, nodding in greeting as his gaze lands on you.

“My cousin is coming over later.” Toji huffs as soon as he steps into the kitchen, lazily leaning against the doorway. Irritation is written all over his features. “Play nice, y'hear? I don't need gramps bitchin’ at me. Y'know what Naoya is like with his daddy.”

Naoya. The mention of his name alone is enough to have you scowling, your expression twisting in a similar manner to Toji’s. That only seems to annoy your father further, an exasperated sigh spilling past his lips. “N’ don’t give me that look, kid. Or him, for that matter. I ain’t dealin’ with another one of his rants about how I raised my daughter with a shitty attitude.”

“He thinks any woman who breathes too loud isn’t raised right.” You counter, huffing as you set your coffee down on your counter.

“Ain’t my problem,” your dad replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “You only have to see him once or twice a year. Suck it up.”

“How long is he even staying?”

Toji is an asshole, but he isn’t evil. He feels a little bad, considering how much you and your cousin tend to butt heads. His lips thin at your question, pressing together as he walks over to ruffle your hair and pull you against his side. “Couple ‘a days. Sorry, kid.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Naoya’s gotten at least a hundred times worse since you last saw him. It’d been a year or so since you were forced to be in his presence for more than an hour at a time, and now that he’s hit his twenties and has been getting more duties in the clan, he seems to think he’s God’s greatest gift. He’s not even a full-year older than you, and yet he loves giving you the whole ‘respect your elders, girl’ spiel everytime you so much as frown in his presence.

He’s been here for a day, and you’re already counting down the minutes until he leaves. Your dad said an important job came up — an excuse to escape Naoya, you’re certain — so you don’t even have him to try and attempt to get Naoya to ease up.

You might genuinely go insane before your dad decides to show up again. If you hear him say that you ‘missed a spot’ while making you clean up his mess one more goddamn time, you’re going to end up in a cell.

“If I’m going to cook for you,” you say in a low tone, swallowing thickly to attempt not to snap. If only to save the lecture you’d inevitably get from Naoya, then your father, and then the head of the clan when Naoya eventually went whining to his dad. “You can at least take the plate to the kitchen after.” “And why should I?” He scoffs, that insufferable grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he regards you with an icy stare. “You’re here. Isn’t this kind of thing the purpose of your… species?”

The muscle of your jaw ticks at his words. You can’t even muster up the strength to force a polite smile on your face, your hands clenching and unclenching at your sides. Better to act like a proper lady than retaliate and have him being even more insufferable than usual. Your silence almost seems to piss him off more — you’re starting to think he gets a rise out of seeing you act out.

“You know, the women of this family are disgraceful.” He continues. “Not one of you was raised with proper manners. My father is too soft on all of you. When I am head of this clan, I plan to—”

“Please. Your own dad thinks you’re an asshole. He’s just waiting for an excuse to pass it onto someone else. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” You bite out, unable to hold your tongue any longer.

Silence fills the room for a few tense seconds. Naoya just… blinks at you, shock written over his features. Shock quickly turns to disbelief, as if the thought of you talking back to him was completely out of his realm of possibility. “Pathetic. You can’t even hear simple facts without growing emotional. The audacity you have to speak to me in such a way is…”

He trails off, lips curling into a sneer as he looks at you. “You should consider yourself lucky I even allow you to speak in my presence, you insolent little—”

“One more fuckin’ word.” The cold voice that cuts through Naoya’s words aren’t your own, but it is a voice you immediately recognise. Your head turns to face your father, the man standing in the doorway with a stony expression.

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” Naoya replies, though you don’t miss the slight waver in his voice.”I was simply correcting the behaviour you refuse to address. My father wouldn’t stand for this treatment of the heir of the—”

“Apologise to my fuckin’ daughter, or I’ll send you back to your daddy in a body bag, kid.” The words aren’t an empty threat — something you and Naoya seem to realise at the exact same time. You watch closely as your cousin swallows his pride, gaze falling to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, words barely audible. It’s a pathetic attempt, really. One your own father isn’t nearly satisfied with.

“Oh, now you wanna keep quiet, huh? Known you since you were a fuckin’ infant, and I’ve never known you to to know when to shut the fuck up. Say sorry properly.” Toji snaps. Naoya opens his mouth to give another half-hearted apology, but Toji is faster as he speaks up again. “Better be a good one.”

Your dad pauses briefly to think, then he’s stepping closer. “Y’know what? I think you should show you’re really sincere. Get on your knees, and say sorry to my kid.”

Naoya does an exceptionally good impression of a fish — mouth opening and closing multiple times as he stares blankly up at Toji. “You… You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t fuckin’ try me today. I’ve had shitty luck with the races, and I’d love to blow off some steam. I’m sick of you and that old man treatin’ us like shit.”

Naoya swallows hard, slowly rising from your battered sofa. He shifts slightly towards you, refusing to meet your gaze as he sinks down to his knees on the floor. “I apologise.”

“Better,” Toji hums, moving to stand behind you, guiding you to the spot Naoya was just sitting. He’s practically kneeling at your feet now, expression indecipherable. “Sit down, baby. Let’s get him to make it up to you, yeah?”

The tone of voice makes you shiver, eyes flicking up to your dad’s face. Between his soft coo and the way he’s looking at you, you feel your cheeks heat. It’s a familiar expression, but never one you’ve received when in the company of others. “Spread your legs for me, good girl.”

Naoya’s head snaps up then, eyes wide as he looks at Toji. You’re unable to school your own expression as you gaze down at Naoya, taking in the way he’s acting. You can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, finally having him knocked down a few pegs. You swallow the lump forming in your throat, your heart fluttering nervously as you follow your dad’s command. 

“Show her how sorry you really are, hmm?” Toji purrs, all low as he takes a handful of Naoya’s dyed hair, forcing his face against your clothed cunt. He stiffens, but then he’s quickly melting against you, nuzzling closer to your heat. 

“Not so talkative now.” Toji scoffs, squatting down as he uses his grip as leverage to make Naoya rub against you more. The action draws a soft whine from the back of your throat, your head falling back against the sofa. “Got you actin’ like a well-trained dog, just from the scent of some pussy? You really have that much trouble gettin’ girls in bed, huh?”

Naoya bristles at his words, but he’s visibly more docile than usual as he allows Toji to guide him against you. You’re getting impatient yourself now, squirming against the cushions. 

“You want a taste, cousin?” And Naoya nods within seconds, eagerly opening his mouth and exhaling harshly. The hot air fans against the damp fabric of your panties in a way that instantly has heat shooting to your core. “Always bein’ a fuckin’ brat, think you even deserve it?”

Toji pulls Naoya back, and you find satisfaction in the pathetic little whine he lets out, even if you find yourself immediately missing his presence between your legs. 

“Daddy, please.” You breathe, voice a mix of needy and pleading. You instantly see the way he softens — something you only ever really get the luxury of seeing — before he lets go of Naoya’s hair. 

“Go on, then.” Toji murmurs, and Naoya doesn’t even blink before his fingers are desperately grasping at your skirt, bunching up the fabric at your waist and tugging your panties to the side before he dives in. 

A low, breathless ‘fuck’ spills past his lips as his tongue licks a long, wet stripe along your dripping cunt, collecting the wetness that had gathered there. He groans against you, nose nudging at your clit as he tongue-fucks you in earnest. His lashes flutter as he gazes up at you, the taste of you making him feel a little light-headed. 

You’ve never seen him so invested in anything. He has a lazy sort of arrogance that follows his every action, but he looks like nothing more than an over-excited puppy as he laps at you with an almost feverish intensity. His eyes are heavy lidded, fingers gripping onto your legs with a harshness that makes you think you’ll be left with bruises as a reminder of what happened. 

“Make her cum, and I might even let you have a treat,” Toji teases. Your peak is rapidly approaching by the time his voice takes your attention away from Naoya. You’d almost forgotten your dad was only feet away, watching the both of you closely. He’s clearly enjoying this — if the tent stretching his pants obscenely was anything to go by. 

Naoya is only spurred on by his words, dragging his mouth upwards until his lips suction around your clit. He sucks eagerly, tongue flicking against the swollen bud until you’re writhing and crying out beneath him. The way Toji sees it, the two of you have never gotten on so well. 

“Nao, please… need… just a little more.” You babble, hand reaching down to tug at his hair. He moans against you, tongue pressing flat against your clit. Your thighs clench around his head, body tensing as you gush all over his tongue. He keeps licking until he’s tugged away, hazy-eyed and hard as a rock. 

“My… treat?” Naoya mutters hoarsely. He’s never one to miss out on… anything that benefits him, really. He’s twitching in his trousers, leaking pre-cum steadily, and he’s just about ready to accept anything that’ll let him get off.

“Always an impatient brat.” Toji says under his breath, large hands coming down to position you on the sofa — hands and knees against the cushions — before stripping off his pants and boxers. “Think Naoya’s sorry, baby. Wanna return the favour while daddy has a turn on your pretty little pussy?”

You’re still panting from your previous orgasm, but the idea of being stuffed from both ends has your cunt pulsing. You flinch a little as your dad slides into you, whimpering softly as your walls flutter around him. You’re still sensitive, biting down on your lower lip to stifle your moans. 

“Aww, cute. Tryna be quiet, baby?” Toji coos, thrusting forward hard, just once, to make you squeal. “Naoya can help with that, yeah? Gonna let him fill that mouth?”

You nod, and Naoya considers that permission. You’ve never seen someone move so fast, his hands hastily pulling at his clothes. He slides onto the couch, kneeling in front of you. 

The only issue with his mouth no longer being preoccupied is he’s now capable of speaking again, and he makes that known to the entire room. He slowly slides his length past your lips, head titling back as the tight, wet heat of your mouth engulfs him. 

“Fuck, that’s good. I knew there had to be a reason my cousin kept you around, considering how useless you are at everything else.” As soon as the words leave his lips, the sharp, harsh sound of skin of skin fills the room. You don’t realise what happened at first, but Toji hips stutter at the exact moment Naoya lets out a sharp hiss of pain. 

Your dad hit him. Hard enough to have his cheek glowing red, his head cocked to the side from the force of the smack. You expect a tantrum, another speech. You get neither. 

His hips buck so violently his cock lodges itself deep in your throat, making you gag. Your eyes water at you look up at him, his pupils blown as a smug smile stretches across his face. 

“Weird little freak.” Your dad grunts, still fucking into you with further. His hands find your hips, pulling you back against his thrusts as you drool eagerly all over Naoya’s cock. 

“Guilty,” Naoya purrs in reply, words cocky and self-assured as he threads his hands in your hair to hold you steady, giving him the leverage he needs to fuck your face. 

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth when you’re talkin’ to my daughter, or I’ll make you sit in the corner and watch me play with her instead.” Toji growls. 

At least that seems to quieten him down, if only so he doesn’t have to give up the pleasure your mouth is bringing him. Naoya’s thighs begin to twitch at the same time his grip in your hair tightens. You work harder at licking along his length, sucking eagerly as he fucks your throat. 

“Come… coming, fuck.” Naoya hisses, forces the entirety of his length down your throat. You choke as his seed fills your throat, unable to do anything but swallow with your nose pressed firmly against his pelvis. You cough and splutter when he finally pulls out, a mix of cum and spit coating your lips and chin as he collapses in the corner of the couch. 

He watches lazily as your dad fucks you. Toji takes the opportunity to push your chest into the couch, nuzzling the nape of your neck to let you hear the quiet grunts he lets out against your skin as his chest presses against your back. His grip on your hips is tight, yanking you back to meet each of his thrusts. 

His cock hits that spongy spot inside of you that has you positively mewling with each jolt of his hips, his lips hot and hungry as he trails kisses along your skin. “Fuck, baby. So pretty. Such a good girl for me, so good… go on, cum for me, sweetheart. Show Naoya how good you are for daddy.”

His words are your undoing, a broken cry leaving you as you cream around his cock, slick coating his length and dripping down his balls. He thrusts lazily a few more times, biting down on your shoulder as he cums deep inside your trembling cunt. 

You flop down almost immediately, falling boneless against the couch. Your head falls against Naoya’s thigh, chest heaving with each panting breath you let out. 

“Might as well come up here,” Naoya hums with surprising softness, arm falling away from his side languidly. It’s about as open as an invitation to snuggle as you’re going to get. 

You shift up against his body, dropping down against his chest with a tired sigh. Toji just laughs, leaning back in his heels. “Christ. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Naoya glares at him, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your eyes are already shut, and Naoya’s close a moment later. Only moments later, you’re both passed out. 

“Brats.” Toji grumbles under his breath as he pulls a throw blanket around your sleeping forms, an unmistakable fondness to his tone. 

[jarofstyles]

The Heart Of The Woods

Hi my loves! I wanted to give you guys a peek into our grumpy mountain manrry! He’s different to some that I’ve written before but I think you’ll like him if you give him a chance

Read the series ( 9 parts ongoing) and 220+ exclusive writings on our Patreon!

WC- 1.4k

Warnings- tiny bit of rejection, asshole h

He hadn’t been sure what he was thinking.

Hiring a housekeeper had not been on his agenda, but it put his mum at ease. Being far from her, up in his large cabin in the middle of the mountain, she had said she worried a lot about not only his well being, but about him overworking himself. His days started early, working on splitting wood, emails, driving down to deliver it, and all of that. His group of employees that worked on the lot not too far from his own place up the mountain were his main source of socialization and even they knew not to bug him too much.

Harry preferred to be left alone.

So why hire a housekeeper? It sounded okay at the time. Someone to keep the fire stoked and the house warm so he could come home and not have the house be cold for him and his animals, someone to cook and clean and… another body in the house. Make it less lonely. Maple was a good companion, Ash was too, but a dog and a cat didn’t replace human connection. Perhaps that’s why he had found himself feeling more irritated lately.

Watching the car pull in, he had to wonder how she could fit her belongings into such a small vehicle. Weren't women supposed to have a lot of stuff? The question was answered as she stepped out of the car, light wash jeans clinging to her thighs and pink sweater hanging on her form as she waved up to him. "Hi!" she grinned a tad bit too brightly for his comfort, jogging up to the wraparound porch. "I’m so sorry l'm a little late. I got lost at the turn- the split in the road? and I didn't have good service to call and let you know. I usually try and do that.”

She was rambling.

He grumbled, wiping his hands on his work pants. “Late's fine. I didn’t have any plans today, just don’t make a habit of it.” Glancing at her car, then back at her, he gave her a little bit of a look. “You got everything you need?” He wasn’t the best at socializing, famously, but she wasn’t aware of that yet considering their talk had mainly consisted of emails. It would be something she quickly found out.

“Oh!” Her chuckle was nervous as the man stood tall above her on the wooden porch, making her look up a bit at him. “Uh, yeah. I.. I kinda had to get out of my place in a hurry, so this worked out.” She smiled up at him before looking back to her car. “Did you want me to grab my stuff now or did you want me to do it after you give me the run down of what you want me to do?”

He sighed, stepping aside to let her pass. “Follow me.” He led her inside, shutting the door behind her. It was weird feeling someone else in his space. It had been a long time since he’d heard footsteps other than his own or his pets in the hall, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it yet. Leading her down the wooden hall, he brought her towards the main part of the house- a large step down living room he mentally referred to as the den. The stone fireplace was lit with the fire going already as he gestured to a chair by it. “Sit.”

Y/N was distracted a little by the skylight- and then the view outside. It was absolutely gorgeous. The whole place was. She had slightly underestimated it despite the size of the place when she had applied to work eyes but she would make it work. At least the view was great. She could see that there was a deck outside, the view of the mountains sprawling behind them sort of blowing her away. The awe only lasted a few moments though, when she heard him clear his throat. Oops. “Sorry.” She smiled nervously. “The view distracted me. You’ve got a beautiful home.”

He grunted, not really used to compliments. Small talk wasn’t his thing. He sat down in his recliner, stretching his legs out in front of him before resting his hands on his knees. “So, as your employer, I expect you t’keep this place clean. Cook meals, do laundry, that sort of thing.” He paused, looking at her critically. “M’not home most of the day, and when I am I’m usually in my workshop. It’s the building out to the side that you saw.” He clasped his hands together. “We don’t need to have a ton of interaction. I need you to keep the fire stoked, maybe feed Ash for me if I get back late. I don’t have a lot of rules, but I ask you to respect my space.”

“Uh, alright.” She nodded, taking out her phone to take notes. “I figured the normal house stuff. I…” Her body felt the cringe as she went to ask it. “I haven’t really stoked a fire longer than it’s taken to do a bonfire while camping so, if there’s some sort of magic you know to keep it going longer I’d love to know it.” The girl didn’t want to fuck it up. The man worked with wood. The last thing she wanted to do was waste it.

It did make her a little unsettled to hear the other part, though. “Um, and what do you mean exactly by not needing to interact? Like, you don’t want to see or hear from me?”

Harry paused, his gaze sharpening a little on the girl. He was used to being alone. He liked being alone. He didn’t want to come home to some sort of chatty roommate. “I mean exactly that.” He said gruffly.

“Oh.” She replied quietly, swallowing the lump on her throat. Her gaze averted when his sharpened on hers, looking towards her lap. He was a little intimidating and she felt embarrassed for some reason- but logically she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. Didn’t mean her body knew that, though.

“O-Okay. I’ll make sure to give you your space.” Her head nodded, convincing herself it would be good for her. Maybe akin to rejection therapy. She had hoped for something a little different, but this was the escape she had needed- she couldn’t complain. “Can you tell me what kind of foods you like, or don’t, so I can make what you’ll eat?”

Harry grunted, his expression relaxing slightly at the mention of food. He hated being bothered with small talk, but food was something he could appreciate- it was part of her job, anyways. He could talk abojt that. “I like meat and potatoes. Steak, roast chicken, mashed potatoes, that sort of thing. Don’t bother with fancy shit. Just straightforward, hearty food.”

He paused, thinking for a moment before continuing. “And coffee. Black coffee. None of that fancy latte crap. Just straight up coffee.” He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “That’s all you need to know for now. You can start preparing dinner and I’ll be back later.”

“Oh! I… are you sure?” She stood up too, following him. “Where should I put my things?” Part of her felt a little nervous she had fucked up with how fast he seemed to want to get out of there, but she didn’t know what she could have done to offend him. Was this just the way he was? Probably. She shouldn’t take it personally- but part of her did, just a bit. “I don’t know which room I should set my things up in.”

Harry turned around, his expression still stern. “You can set up in the spare room down the hall. It’s the first door on the right.” He pointed down the hallway before continuing. “I don’t need any help with my things. Just worry about your own shit for now.”

Her eyes fell down towards the floor, nodding at his words. It must just be the way he was, she concluded. He didn’t bother saying goodbye as she heard the door close, the ticking of the large grandfather clock in the den the only sound until the start of his pickup was muffled outside.

Who the hell was this man? And what had she gotten herself into?

[notashadowbutawave]

finally talked my wife into watching 8x06 "confessions" with me and WOW there's quite a lot going on in this breakup scene in buck's apartment (and the infamous glee scene for that matter) that I haven't seen discussed much on this website (though maybe I'm just not finding it?) like this show is always yelling the themes in your face but...

first of all I think it's somewhat intentional that Buck is being written as kind of regressing. So far in the show, he's gotten his confidence in romantic relationships by fulfilling the role with the person that he thinks he should fulfill. with Abby, Buck had just learned about serious adult romantic relationships and how they work and was trying to Be A Partner in a complete speed run. But he learned that no amount of devotion is a substitute for functionality. with Taylor, he was trying to Be A Functional Partner - and he learned that being a partner Has To involve trust, and that trust comes from somewhere else other than just our actions - it has to come from our hearts.

Tommy is the first person he's ever dated where he doesn't know what the next steps are and that's because this isn't something he has a blueprint for - being a Partner and a Functional Partner for somebody who sees right through him and sees exactly what he's trying to do, to make Tommy never leave. Abby was completely clueless (sorry I really dislike Abby) and Taylor didn't realize that an adult man could behave so badly without utter malice in his heart. Both of them kind of make the mistake of being vulnerable to Buck's charms.

Tommy is of course vulnerable to Buck's charms but Buck is more transparently himself with Tommy as well - and what Tommy sees, then, is a person who is deeply insecure and may be trending in the right direction but ultimately still thinks there's a lever he can pull to make Tommy stay and never leave him. He doesn't know that he's not done cooking yet because every new thing he learns about the world or others makes him feel brand fucking new.

So yes, the glee scene:

Josh was absolutely gagged that Tommy was Abby's ex fiance

Buck's first instinct is to see the situation from Abby's side and go into protective mode which is adorably loyal to be fair but also like ; get a grip

I actually love Josh's framing of "you care about this person and if you want a future in a queer relationship you need to learn that we don't all come to this the same way"

Did they need a cultural reference? No. Were they going to self referentially congratulate Ryan Murphy for inflicting it on the world? Yes.

And regarding the breakup itself:

What is wrong with this fandom's sense of humor that I haven't seen a gif of "I'm the himbo" ??? Like yes babe u sure are come here

Buck is really working so hard in this scene to make sure Tommy knows that he's serious. He's like... this freaked me out but I've decided I'm cool with it. She changed my life but not like you !!!

Like bless his heart, Buck thought he was really doing the right thing by telling Tommy about Abby BEFORE ASKING HIM TO MOVE IN WITH HIM. like MY CARDS ARE ON THE TABLE??? SEE??? LOVE ME FOREVER !! it's adorable and it's also cringe as fuck.

I think the real sin of the writing here is making Buck so completely clueless that this is the wrong move. Like he's kind of an idiot (Eddie Diaz's words not mine) but moving in with someone after dating them for six months in your 30s is WILD behavior and I don't think even Evan Buckley would fail to realize that this is a bit much in this moment.

But idk being in love makes one do stupid things? I did all of my messy bitch relationship shit before I turned 30 but I guess it is buck we are talking about

I completely understand why Tommy reacts the way he does in this scene and bless Lou Ferrigno Jr for acting it with such nuance, much more depth than the scene frankly deserves. What a heartbreaker. Like you see him tense up at Buck's request

"I'm not saying let's get married or engaged, even though we would have the right, thanks to the brave people who came before, including you." such an insane thing to say to your boyfriend. Whoever approved this script was trying to take me out like with a gun.

You then see the absolute grief in Tommy's eyes like oh god this kid is killing me. He's so sweet. He's so cute. He doesn't get it. I love him. He doesn't get it.

As an aside, Eddie being stalked in the juice bar by the hot priest was absolutely incredible.

I didn't hate this episode but wow the writing does suck shit, however I fully believe it makes sense for them to break up here and get back together in the future ??? because Buck DOES have some shit to figure out. Like moving in with someone is a lot of fucking intimacy REALLY fast and baby boy sometimes you NEED to pump the brakes a little ESPECIALLY when you think someone might be THE ONE and you just figured out you like guys six months ago.

I get it and yeah the writing is tragic and the inclusion of Abby in general is just unhinged and unnecessary but like I don't hate the broad strokes here. how else does the blorbo learn if not by ritual torture by the writers. Lou is too good to not have back though. My god what a treasure.

end bucktommy endgame truther transmission

[choppedsouldreamer]

OOOH, this seems fun! hm, what's an interesting fact or story about me? oh I know! (get ready it's a long one)

fun fact: one time me and my sister were getting ready to go out for something to do and during this time we were in both in our rooms which are at the other side of the hallway upstairs from our parents room, distracted by getting changed and stuff. During this time my dad was doing a job where he worked outside a lot and he's a messy fucker so he would bring in grass, twigs, stones, you name it, he would bring it home from working in long grass and trimming bushes. Anyway, this comes into play when my sister goes into my parents bedroom then suddenly screams a Harry Potter reference being "TREVOR!!" if you have never watched Harry Potter for some reason then this will all make sense but if you have then um...congratulations you know where this story is heading. I was at first confused because I was just casually getting dressed and then I see her book it down stairs and hear her freaking out, my mum wasn't worried at first that much because all she heard from my sister was... "THERE IS A FROG UPSTAIRS" I strolled my ass to the room, my brain not putting the pieces together yet from all the commotion and look down at this brown thing on the floor thinking "huh, my dogs down have a brown dog treat" then the mf blinks at me and that was the moment it all clicked into place. Luckily being the only real one in my house that isn't afraid of a lot of stuff except from my dad (he wasn't there he was at work so I was the only saviour smh) I legit only said "oh" in response. Yeah, Trevor is the name of a frog in Harry Potter and that was my sisters first reaction, well done big sis, anyway, being the only capable one in the damn house of dealing with basically any animal, I get a bag and skilfully catch the frog dude with one throw (true gamer) and during all of this my mum was finally freaking out as well due to realising the frog was actually in HER room, cause she thought before it was in my sisters and that was why she was so chill about it (way to go mum lol) but in the end I set the guy free outside, but literally the next day we got a CHUNKY ASS TOAD in the garden that I also had to catch, ngl he was kinda heavy and was actually fine with me scooping him in a bag and then letting him go free some where else, so yeah, I'm a certified frog catcher!

My mum also thinks there was a possibility that the frog that went upstairs some how come through the garden door and went through our front room up the stairs since we had the door open for hours late at night but I think it's literally impossible since 1: we were all there so we would have seen it, 2: my dogs would have noticed for sure, one of them loves frogs and 3: that would be a long ass distance for a frog to travel-

I still personally think it was my dad's fault for being a lazy son of a bitch and never checking or emptying out his pockets smh

(screw it what's a fun fact about yourself also @ people I'll go first I'm allergic to myself

@escapetheslaughter

@ugly-astral-taurus

@bees-official

@gremlininthedark

@bloodmoon-da-idiot

@multifandomcutie13 )