#aaaand look who made the first move!

[aurorangen]

It's as if he read her mind and he leaned in for the very first kiss ❤️

[gothgoblinbabe]

She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now. 

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week. 

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again. 

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand. 

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play. 

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie. 

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze. 

Definitely not my type of girl. 

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs. 

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly. 

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence. 

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers. 

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed. 

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing. 

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice. 

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently. 

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable. 

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more. 

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne. 

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.” 

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?” 

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people. 

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free 

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter. 

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way. 

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy 

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing. 

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him. 

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants. 

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs. 

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you. 

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time. 

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “ 

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before. 

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.” 

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze. 

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately. 

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom. 

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out. 

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him. 

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?” 

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.” 

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started. 

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed. 

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name. 

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you. 

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind. 

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you. 

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top. 

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath. 

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him. 

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck. 

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go. 

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck. 

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back. 

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking. 

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs. 

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name. 

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

 You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face. 

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing. 

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers. 

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?” 

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing. 

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him. 

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking. 

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist. 

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust. 

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back. 

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size. 

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him. 

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress. 

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again. 

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you. 

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful. 

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip. 

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again. 

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds. 

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm. 

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be. 

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

[kingdomvel]

Steddie | Third part | 1.7k

first | second

Eddie moves around the stage guitar in hand, sweat dripping down his forehead, hair -he is sure- a mess from the sweat and waving it around. Sometime in the two months they have been on tour summer has fully arrived, making the venues even hotter than they were before, as if the heat from people’s bodies was not enough.

So, heat, sweat.

He is thirsty.

Eddie’s eyes stray to Steve’s spot – because it is Steve’s spot, even if he had only stood there once. It has been his since Eddie saw him there for the first time, that first concert. Since then, Eddie can’t stop his eyes from straying there at the beginning of every concert, that spot at the front to the side of the stage, hoping to see Steve there.

But he isn’t.

Of course he isn’t. Steve is not here, he is back in Chicago, and Eddie knows this because they text every day, all the time, and video call every other day. It feels stupid, when he thinks about it, that he saw a guy so hot at the first concert of his tour that he went and fell for him in the biggest ‘girl who went to a boygroup concert against her will and one of the members became immediately fascinated with her when their eyes caught in the middle of the concert’ fanfic cliché, just the other way around. Or something. He is not ashamed though, Steve is hot, and funny, and they click in the weirdest perfect way, to all of their friends’ shock.

Eddie turns his back to the audience as Jeff talks to them. He left his drink in front of Gareth’s drums today aaaand- it’s not there. He scowls, looks at the side of the stage where Chrissy is smiling at him and giving him a thumbs up, and scowls more. He had told her he is not repeating what he did with Steve, he doesn’t care how viral they went or how much their fans loved it. He doesn’t care how many hundred thousand new followers they have gained and that their shows are now sold out. He is not doing it again. Not the drink thing and, of course, not the kiss. He had asked for Steve’s drink because he was hot as fuck, he wanted some chaos in his life, and Steve had seemed the perfect candidate. He had kissed him because… well, once again because Steve was hot as fuck, and he had been wanting to do it all concert.

Everything that had come after was fate. Not that Eddie really believed on love at first sight and fate before meeting Steve, but now he does. So, he is not doing any of that with someone who is not Steve, because it would feel like a betrayal to him and what they have, whatever it is and whatever it may become.

He looks down at where he had put the bottle before the concert- and he always made sure of this now- with his lips pursed and brow furrowed. Alright, if he has to go through the whole concert without drinking a drop of water he will. If he ends up fainting on stage then it’s all the fault of social media and it’s grip on humanity. And Chrissy’s.

When he looks up Gareth is laughing at him. The little shit was in on this too, of course he was. Gareth makes a jerking motion with his chin towards the audience. Eddie doesn’t look to his back. He is not doing what they want him to do, and he knows that Steve is not there. Instead, he squints his eyes at Gareth. He is vaguely aware of Jeff running out of things to say at his back, but this feels more important. Gareth points to the audience with his chin again with a smile and okay, Eddie turns this time because he wants to see what Gareth is trying to point even though he knows it won’t be-

Steve.

Steve is there in his spot, waving a can of beer in his hand with a stupid cocky smile on his face. He is wearing a stupid polo that can’t possibly be missed in the sea of metal t-shirts.

“Steve,” Eddie says and he hadn’t realised how close he still was to the mic, but his voice rings all over the room, interrupting Jeff.

Eddie takes a couple of steps in Steve’s direction – he is laughing at him, the bastard – before he remembers there is an audience looking at him now, and his bandmate’s laughs can be heard through the speakers. Eddie walks back to his mic.

“Sorry everyone, give me two minutes, I have a visit from royalty,” Eddie says as he takes off his guitar and leaves it on the floor. And that should be a big indicator of how much he cares about Steve because he never leaves his guitar on the floor like this. “Gareth, do your thing.”

Gareth starts a drum solo as Eddie starts running towards Steve. When he is only a couple of steps away from the edge of the stage he slides, feet first, to the end and manages to land on his feet on the floor next to Steve. If he believes that the only reason he doesn’t fall over is Steve grabbing him he won’t ever admit it. It does make the perfect excuse to get Steve immediately in his arms. His solid body pressed against him at last.

Eddie gets Steve’s face between his hands when they part. He is smiling, laughing. It makes Eddie’s heart make stupid things. Jesus Christ, he has turned into a sap. One night together and Steve turned him into a stupid fool in love.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, still incredulous.

“Well, you looked like you needed a drink and I was not going to let anyone else have the privilege. Also,” he continues before Eddie can say anything, “Chrissy and the boys gave me free tickets and a promise of free booze, and I couldn’t say no to free stuff you know?”

“Ah, so you came for the free booze. I see how it is.” He takes puts one of his hands against his chest. “You hurt my feelings.”

“Well, I also came to see my favourite band live.”

“Oh so it’s your favourite band now, is it?”

“The frontman is hot,” he says it so seriously, while nodding. It has Eddie smiling like a fool.

“I missed you so much,” it escapes his lips without him meaning to. It is probably too much, too soon. After all, how can you miss someone you have only met for a day before two months of texting so much?  

Steve smiles.

“I missed you too.”

And now they are kissing. Steve’s lips are on his, one of his hands on his hair, the other, still holding the beer, resting against Eddie’s body. Steve’s lips against his, their tongues slipping together, the roar of the crowd around them, his bandmates playing in the back… It’s the second time this has happened, and Eddie thinks he could get used to this, that he wants to do this time and time again, wants Steve to be there waiting for him after every concert.

A voice breaks his personal heaven and he moves to look into Steve’s eyes, their hands on each other’s necks and faces, and foreheads together.

“Can anyone tell our singer he needs to stop being a sap and get his ass back on stage for the concert to continue? I think we’ve lost him.”

There are laughs and catcalls all around, and a man nudges Eddie’s shoulder, all good naturally.

“Stay after?” Eddie asks, still cradling Steve’s face.

“Of course.”

Eddie gives Steve a peck on the lips before he turns around and climbs on the stage again. A shout of his name makes him stop when he is up and when he turns around Steve is there with his beer in front of Eddie’s face. He lets out a short cackle and accepts the drink between more wolf whistles and call outs. He winks at Steve when he finishes drinking before he moves back to his position behind the mic.

“Oof,” he says with a wriggle of his eyebrows as he swipes his chin with the back of his hand. “Okay,” he adds with a full boy shake, preparing himself back for action. “Steve.” He just says as explanation with a tilt of his head as he takes his guitar back and slips it on. There are a few laughs, some whoops, some ‘get it!’. “I know you guys are jealous but interrupting like that? Not cool guys,” he says looking back to his bandmates.

Gareth flips him off.

Eddie plays a chord in his guitar, ready to continue with the concert, but his eyes catch on Steve and his hand immediately stops the strings.

“I want to say something first.” He can see the confusion in the audience, in Steve. Can feel it from his bandmates. “Before anyone calls us out for lying, Steve really was a complete stranger that day in Chicago and I did kiss him before even knowing his name.”

“Whore!” someone shouts in a joking tone, and Eddie laughs. Steve also laughs, with his arms crossed in front of him in a way that brings out his biceps beautifully.

“I know, I know, but we all have to take our chances sometimes, don’t we? And this time it worked because everyone, he said yes to the drinks after!” The audience celebrates with him, Steve is also accepting the celebration with his arms raised. “And now we are here, and I have just one more thing to say before we go back to that beautiful music we all love.” Eddie licks his lips as he looks back at Steve, completely focused on him. “Steve, I would love to leave this venue with you as my official boyfriend.”

Steve pulls a confused face and Eddie thinks he has fucked it for a second there before Steve smiles, still confused, and mouths ‘of course’. Well, he probably said it, but Eddie can’t really hear it above the noise of the venue right now. He can only beam at him when Jeff intervenes.

“Okay, someone take the mic from him because he is embarrassing himself now.” Eddie doesn’t even care that they are laughing at him. “Gareth, get this shit going.”

It’s between muscle memory and a euphoric haze that he starts playing his part on time.

 He barely takes his eyes away from Steve for the rest of the concert.

[haveihitanerve]

This brilliant little backstage scene deserves to be shared with the world and because i am who i am i also have to add my thoughts- once again, ignore them and just watch the vid if you so please :)

Tim casually sprinting away, what a delightful man :) 

The way they have like… feet on either side of the stage, lots of space, but Tom and Sam are sitting right next to each other, absolutely not even an inch between them, legs and arms touching, talking about best first dates??? My heart😭

“Mainly… balance.” Both Tom and Sam’s shoulders moving in the same way when they laugh- 

The way Tom is looking at Sam while listening-

“That would be amazing!” “that sounds awful.” the dichotomy lmaooo

“One of us? There's four of us?” Sam i love you so much- he automatically thinks of the other two not present they are like so close i'm gonna cry-

“I always think of the collective.” 😭💗💗

“How do you not understand how basic conversation works?” ribbing each other, the way true friends do, beautiful

Sam: *makes unidentifiable noises back to mock him*

“Tom!” The way Tom’s head snaps over to look at AJ, and Sam peters out to look over too. So responsive 😭

“I'm so glad we’re committing to that.” Tom i love you-

AJ just being the Tech King while Sam casually helps. Idk its domestic and cute ok leave me alone..

Tom’s “oooooh.” as AJ changes the lights- while casually not helping and being on his phone as Sam and AJ figure out the lights (jk hes probably doing admin stuff but its funny)

Joe: *slams into a chair* ow. Sam: *snickers* its a bit dark in the room AJ: *scoff laughs back*

The way they debrief is just amazing idk why but its so cute to see, they're supportive but still critical, but like constructively critical, and still supportive of each other. Plus the metaphors are great, and the laughing at each other

“Each of their… utterances.” The way AJ is smiling at Tom i cant-

“JAMES was a good man before we lost him.” “killed him.” XD

Gotta be honest maybe they were just showing the best clip, but the A-Z game is pretty fucking good. I think its the audience’s fault tbh, they're not hype enough

The explanation of how games come to be and how they figure it out is sooo good, im always nerdy and want to learn the thoughts/plans/processes behind it all so thank you!!!

“He says softly. Lets go get you onto a mechanical bull.” Sam contemplating what on earth to do with that. “NI HAO!” aaaand there comes AJ out of left field, perfect. Sam now utterly baffled, glorious

“That was joyous! That was good!” Sam coming in saying it was good when AJ and Tom were just complaining- but the way he immediately catches that they didn't feel exactly as confident about it as he did and going “no?” to just check and make sure, looking between both and not just one- brb crying they're such good friends he picks up on that-

Aj’s look at the camera lol “👀do you see this man?”

“Did that go alright?” the immediate reassurance they gave him-

“It feels like you have to start fucking-” “rowing.” finishing each others sentences and a good metaphor- i'm fine

AJ and Sam arguing as DaVinci and Michelangelo gives me life-

“It turns out i just made up a word.” idk who cameraman joe is, but i love him. Real

“Thats the straight white guy philosophy. Say it with confidence and keep walking.” I love how they address it and yet can joke about it, really refreshing 💗

“Stay safe, stay sexy.” thank you Sam, thats my life moto from now on

“And AJ anything from you?”... “I had a really fun time!” Yay!!!

“I’m pissed off. My clues.. were fucking genius. And the audience.. didn't get ‘em” Yes Aj, you tell ‘em!

“And the guys.. *voice crack/half sob* didn't even bother to try and like- *near tears* fucking- make a thing like-” *laughs* oh AJ, poor baby XD

“They just looked at me and then went: “i have a different clue!” Great!” sadness AJ, its ok, they still love you lol

Tom and Sam both in the same position watching AJ’s “genius clues” -Sam’s face of utter confusion and Tom just watching in interest trying to understand it at all

“You know, I also have a clue-” AJ’s slight smile. “I’m very glad because I have no idea what the fuck that was-” AJ having to laugh slightly at that

“Fucking shit im out of here!” *tries to do the cool storm out, but is also checking to see if he left anything behind, kinda ruining it XD*

“I have to know about the Nazi chinchilla-” firstly its wonderful explanation??? I guess, kinda makes sense- but let me just point out to you lovely people that Aj, in the background, downs his beer, steps up right behind Sam, and then takes his beer and also drinks his, and Sam just watches and nods- they’re too fucking cute what the heck-

Also AJ’s face mocking Sam in the background as he starts to explain- idk what prompted it, but it was hilarious

“What was the rant about?” “My clues were fucking great-” Sam: *starts cackling like ‘sure buddy, sure’*

“I got that one! I said that!” defending that he understands his friend- 😭

“I got it. I appreciated that one.” Calms AJ down slightly, so cute

Sam: *slips in advertisement as AJ casually blames the audience*

Aj and Sam’s hug at the end😭 cuties

Anyway thats it :) they're cute and yeah. 

also! where was luke??????

[shookuna]

breathe in . . . ೃ࿔꠶:･˳

...aaaand breathe out . . .

a/n: welcome to my first ever event, all themed around yoga with your favorite jjk character :D ! forgive me if this is something absolutely no one else cares about... buuuut i'm having a bit of a yoga moment so please indulge me <3

down below are the characters i plan to write for - links will be added as fics are completed!

feel free to request additional characters buuuuut i can't make any promises ;-P

choose your instructor!

toji fushiguro:

summary: there are many ways you could describe toji fushiguro - argumentative, irritable, a bit of an asshole... but calm? no, that word does not fit him in the slightest. so... why is he the man who's supposed to "guide you to a zen state" in your yoga class today...?

satoru gojo:

summary: you and satoru were close in high school, but lost touch midway through college when he up and dropped out. it's been years since you two have spoken after he basically vanished ... but the man has a knack for garnering attention wherever he goes. when you hear your friends gossiping about a new yoga studio run by this "super hot white-haired guy", you decide to seek him out for yourself.

nanami kento:

summary: after moving to a new city to take on a new job, you feel more isolated and burnt out than ever. you sign up for a yoga class hoping for a brief moment of respite - but you didn't expect it to be a private lesson. and you certainly didn't expect the instructor to be nanami kento, who is quite possibly the hottest man you've ever seen.

be students together!

yuuta okkotsu:

summary: you and yuuta have been dating for a couple months, now, and he's always eager to spend time with you in any capacity. a night spent cuddling on the couch? he's there. a shopping trip to the mall? he's holding your bags. a date to a restaurant that just opened up? he's already booked reservations. so when you invite him to tag along with you to your weekly yoga class, he's practically giddy with excitement. then why does he look downright miserable now, only fifteen minutes into the class?

yuuji itadori:

summary: you made the mistake of telling your overly enthusiastic best friend yuuji that you had plans tomorrow - yes, plans that didn't involve him. you didn't intend to tell him what you were up to, but when he shot you those puppy dog eyes... you folded like a house of cards. you were just intending to find some peace and quiet at your weekly yoga class... but now that yuuji insists on tagging along, who knows what lies in store?

megumi fushiguro:

summary: megumi had never been one for ostentatious gestures of affection - or any gestures of affection, for that matter. when you two first got together, even just holding hands made him avoid eye contact with you at all costs. one year later, your relationship had come a long, long way, and your boyfriend intends to show you just how comfortable he's grown with you... by planning a couples yoga date with you <3

© shookuna ! (aaaand yotsuba banner edited by me too >:) )

[themeraldee]

Ok but what about homelander who gets bored one day and decides to go searching through adult vids on the internet, scrolling past videos upon videos centered around him or the seven (HOMELANDER AND MAEVE CUAGHT FUCKING IN THE AIR?!?!? NOT CLICKBAIT) but nothing catches his eye. That is until he comes across you. Ur not doing any crazy shit just wearing pair of his brand of panties and nothing else. But it’s the way you look up at the camera all innocent like your not fitting a monstrous dildo down ur throat that makes him click on ur channel

And then he becomes obsessed with you, ur number one fan 🤧🤧🤧

Oh mate the 'HOMELANDER AND MAEVE CUAGHT FUCKING IN THE AIR?!?!? NOT CLICKBAIT' bit made me think of all the weird candid moments and stories people would be sharing on reddit/tumblr/twitter and I low-key want more of that in the show 😂 where are the conspiracy theory boards!!! where are the creep shots!!! Anyway that was off topic. Sorry about that 😂

Oooh hoho hoo how the tables turn. Who's the fan now?

It would take a little while for him to slowly descend into madness. I see this as a desperate attempt for him to soothe his ego. So like he comes back from a meeting where he got talked back to or he got scolded by his corpo parents so he's thinking about how there are millions of people who love him, revere him. He should look at that, not the people in his life that make him frustrated.

He's trying to jerk off, make himself feel good but he's too much in his head, his own voice coming back to him and scolding him too for caring so much about their opinions all while Edgar or Madelyn's voices keep coming back to him.

So instead he seeks out fans that could get his mind off the repetitive and distracting thoughts. Might as well indulge in how much people love him. Fuck Edgar. Fuck Madelyn. He's a superhero for fucks sakes, what do they have on him??

He skips all the stupid ones where people dress up as him and Maeve. He doesn't need to watch someone try to be him. He wants someone to worship him.

So there you are with your soaked little Homelander panties sucking on the silicone of the Homelander's Star Spangled Banger looking up at the camera with those doe eyes as if you were not pretending to be sucking his cock.

That image more than does the job, and he doesn't even get to the part where you fuck yourself with it before he blows his load.

At first that'd be enough for him. Satisfied, no longer thinking about what happened. Until time goes on and he keeps thinking back to that look you most definitely meant for him. If you weren't looking for his attention you wouldn't have presented yourself so perfectly right?

He watches the rest of your content in one night, really pushing the limits of his stamina as he blows load after load to the sight of you getting yourself off to his name in multiple ways and positions.

After the obsession fully sets in I see him having a little bit of a crisis between deciding whether he should be the only one who gets to see you like that. It's literally made for him after all. OR if he secretly likes how much other people drool over you while they couldn't stand a chance with you.

He ends up finding who you are and where you live and he watches through the walls of your home as you record yourself. He gets the front row seat and all the parts that come before and after. All the little insights in your life that others don't see. So he makes the move to meet you... aaaand the rest is history...

ALSOO being the attention whore he is I see him even wanting to record one with you. Where all you see in the frame is his naked thighs and cock so no one can actually tell that it's him while he has you sucking him off. Knowing that nobody else will get you like this and that all your fans are watching you finally blow him like you've been clearly wanting to for so long just blows up his ego to insane proportions.

[jalicecookie]

A Duck in the Oven

A Gift for the wonderful @ritualofcirice and her work Hazbin Hotel Imagines and Scenarios Chapter 3 : When Lucifer gave you your fiftieth Duck <3

After Lucifer has given you your 50th duck, you surprise him with the 51st duck and a very special surprise hidden in the Oven.

You knew it was something special to be in a relationship with Lucifer. The king of hell with a big heart for you and a very special fascination for rubber ducks not only managed to conquer your own heart, but also to tear down your carefully built walls - bit by bit - along with your fears and insecurities.

Your life in hell had been anything but easy since you were born. Your father got lost in gambling, drugs and illegal business and your mother was overwhelmed with you and raising your siblings. From a young age you had learned to react inconspicuously, to withdraw when things got loud and not to talk back. Your childhood was marked by instability and fear.....after school you started working in a small music store. Music could heal a part of your heart and then one day Lucifer himself stood in front of you.

He asked for an old record by a demonic artist who had died the year before last. You were able to help the King of Hell and since then he came to the little shop at least once a week until he surprised you by asking you out on a date. You were so shocked that you started to stutter and could only say "yes, please". You were very afraid of this date...it's been a long time since you dated anyone and wanted to think about something like a relationship. Working in the shop and your first small apartment of your own gave you the distance from the complex family situation that you needed to heal...even if it was only a small step forward.

But the date turned out to be wonderfully chaotic. Lucifer told you about his daughter Charlie's dreams, about the Hazbin Hotel and about the new bond of trust with his daughter. He seemed to have problems just like you and when Lucifer said goodbye to the date, just outside your apartment door (he had of course accompanied you home like a gentleman!) - he gave you your first rubber duck. A rubber duck in a waiter's uniform. It made you smile when you said: - I'm looking forward to the next date, Lucifer.

This date turned into several, and the number of rubber ducks grew too. Soon, many different ducks were decorating your small apartment and your feelings for the King of Hell grew steadily. The revelation of your feelings took place at a picnic in one of the parks.

You had tried baking and only baked a cherry cake that was almost completely burnt...it was a tragedy, but even for this Lucifer found a few loving words of encouragement. Your heart beat faster with every word of affection. You didn't know that such emotions were still slumbering within you. But with every date, every kiss and every gentle touch, Lucifer managed to break down the protective walls you had built up...and make you happier and more cheerful.

One year after your first date and the 50th rubber duck you received, you had a surprise for your partner. Yes, you had entered into a relationship, you had moved into his house and met his daughter Charlie for the first time at the end of last year.

And you had taken the girl straight to your heart, you could see where Charlie got her optimistic, cheerful nature from, as she was so similar to Lucifer in many ways. You got on well and you tried to support Charlie's dream. It was not an easy undertaking, hell was divided in opinion about rehabilitating souls up to heaven.

"Darling? I'm back home!"

His voice made you smile and you quickly closed the oven door, turned around and walked towards your partner to give him a gentle kiss on the mouth.

"Luci, I missed you! Aaaand a surprise for you," you said with an almost childlike expression in your eyes.

"A surprise for me? Did I forget the anniversary of our first date...or your birthday...or your demon cat's birthday...or...?" Lucifer got nervous because he immediately thought he had forgotten some important date.

But you just gently grabbed his right hand and led him in the direction of the closed oven door.

"You haven't forgotten anything Luci, turn on the light in the oven, I think it's broken," you asked pleadingly and let go of your partner's hand.

Lucifer immediately complied with this request and turned on the light in the oven.

"Hmmm...the light seems to be working normally," Lucifer wondered and turned to you. But you just blinked at him questioningly.

"Is there something in the oven?" you replied innocently and Lucifer turned around again.

"Yes, one...oh, it's a duck! A cat duck with a pink bow on its head and cat ears!"- said Lucifer, surprised but still pleased.

"It's the 51st duck and the first one to you. I wanted to surprise you...but there's another surprise"

Lucifer turned to you in surprise and even with his nod towards the closed oven door, the King of Hell didn't understand what you were getting at.

"What's that in the oven, Luci?" you gave him a little hint.

"There's a duck in the oven"

"And what does a duck in the oven mean?"

"That you share my passion for ducks?"

"Yes, that too, my darling, but it has another meaning"

Lucifer looked back and forth between the oven and you several times, confused.

You took a few steps towards him, grabbed his right hand and gently guided it on the fabric of your jacket, where your stomach is.

"There's a little duckling in the oven, Luci", you said, happiness sparkling in your eyes.

It took a moment for Lucifer to understand this allusion and tears of joy formed in his eyes.

"A baby duck? WOW!" Lucifer said happily and pulled you into a long loving hug.

The duck in the oven was the beginning of a new phase of life and you could hardly wait , until the baby duckling would see the light of day.

"Maybe there's one - you're going to be big sister duck - for Charlie? We really have to stop by that one shop, later okay?"  - you suggested and Lucifer, tears of joy now running down his face, could only nod - before he blew a passionate, loving kiss on your lips.

And it felt just as happy and wonderful as the very first kiss between you.

THE END

[glitteringcrab]

Nice to meet you, I guess

I gotta say, this interpretation is turning this whole scene right on its head for me:

Because I originally thought this was Evil Morty coldly and manipulatively overplaying his Mortyness:

And yet I think we can all agree that this is real fear (because there was no one conscious around for Evil Morty to adjust his reactions to):

Same as I think we can all agree that this was a calculated move:

THE TRANSITION BETWEEN THE TWO EMOTIONAL STATES IS NOT READILY APPARENT.

One moment he was scared, then he... put up an even more scared façade? Overplayed his fear?? While at the same time having foreseen the way to bring Rick Prime down and coldly luring him closer with his apparent helplessness?

Well... I think... I get it now... Here's how I think it went:

1. Eyepatch Morty's allies are down, and he does not know what to do. Hence the slow, hesitant reactions:

2: And yet he stands his ground to face Rick Prime (and might I note that Evil Morty could have teleported himself away during that time Rick Prime had not yet regenerated --and hope the Omega Device would not be used on Mortys-- but not only he stayed, it appears he later places himself between Rick Prime and his fallen allies).

3. This is a real flinch:

(and he had flinched again right before that, when he saw Rick Prime first beginning to get up)

4. Although we're never shown him walk (so this could be an animation mistake) as mentioned before, it seems he has placed himself in front of his temporary allies and is standing his ground:

5. And then he flinches again when Rick Prime reaches for his gun (lots of flinching in this episode). As far as I can tell Evil Morty's forcefield had fizzled out, and a painful death is imminent.

6. He automatically, subconsciously tries (what I assume to be and what turned this scene on its head for me) a self-pacifying gesture: touching the eyepatch.

This is important because if the interpretation of this gesture is correct, it would mean that none of Evil Morty's above described reactions had been clever nor calculating. His Mortyness was not deliberately overplayed. This is a raw, genuine moment. He was just scared, and the best he could do in the face of imminent death was to instinctively reach for an object he had equated with freedom and strength, an object that he considers so strongly as a part of his identity that he wears it even when completely alone outside the Curve.

7. Only that this attempt at self-soothing doesn't work; he isn't wearing the eyepatch right now.

He quickly camouflages his attempt by turning the gesture into a scratch.

8. This line? This dumb line that he utters next?

That's not Evil Morty cleverly and deliberately impersonating Morty Prime by making himself sound like an idiot; although he is following along the "I'm Morty Prime" ruse, this is Evil Morty being scared out of his wits and genuinely having no idea what to do or say to save himself, exactly like Morty Prime would be.

9. THIS IS THE MOMENT HE THINKS OF THE FINGER GUNS:

Eyepatch Morty lowers his gaze and raises his left hand slightly. I dunno, but I think this could be read as the face of someone who's thinking, and I feel like the motion of his left hand is rather indicative of what he was thinking.

10. More flinching as Rick Prime approaches. He's going to have only one shot at this.

11. WOOP. There ya go, a-hole:

(note that he's using his left hand, the same one he raised slightly earlier)

And I think Eyepatch Morty's expression in this is interesting. Compare it with another instance when he's firing a weapon that requires a lot of focus:

Doesn't Evil Morty's wide-eyed expression when he fires the finger gun look... almost curious? Uncertain, sorta? Like he's closely observing to see the result?

It feels to me like he made the finger guns with another Rick in mind and wasn't sure if the disruption they would cause would even work on Rick Prime (but I could be reading too much into it).

12. HOORAY:

13. Aaaand he puts the eyepatch back on as soon as possible.

(Whew!)

I dunno, the more I try to read Evil Morty's actions (trying to self-pacify after getting shot, subconsciously choosing a blue color for his forcefield, repeated flinching, avoiding any sort of attachment as too painful, taking kinda poor care of himself outside the Curve, opting to talk to Morty Prime and Rick C-137 instead of attacking them, being too scared to face Puppetmaster Rick alone), the more fragile, scared, tired and lonely he seems to me, despite his constant masks and apparent endless strength, intelligence and determination.

I feel like even the moments when he shows genuine pain or fear we are inclined to disregard his humanity and interpret as cold and calculated acting.

...Although I may be only seeing what I want to see.

[dolccreme]

aaaand part 2 for the pc character profile+ formal and work clothes are done!

part one is here

anyway, more character intro and analysis below, because i WILL show you my presentation of my ocs and it is long :]]

alrighty so i'm very big on personalities shining through implications rather than stating it obvious. like, i want you to know the characters through the actions and words they're portraying and how they're portrayed. so let's break it down! starting from part one introduction

ive's the middle child, so to speak. because of his past, he's prone to mischief, but unfortunately, he has to be the voice of reason between the three 😞

mayumi is the youngest, she's the most mischievous and dramatic. spurious means false or being fake, take that as you will.

yui is the oldest. while ive and mayumi tease and bully him like siblings do, they look up to him and feel safe around him. steadfast is synonymous to resolute, loyal, and unwavering

ive has the highest housekeeping skill level, so he's the designated cook. mayumi needs kitchen supervision and yui is not allowed to be in the same room as any form of kitchen appliances. doesn't matter if he's the oldest, he will not be allowed for safety reasons

ive listens to original pinoy music and they're more in touch with the filipino culture and food (he makes the best chicken adobo). mayumi listens to musicals because she loves the theatrics. yui listens to kpop especially songs with rebellion themes in it (there are groups that utilize this theme, but skz will always come to mind for me)

yui, for looking so stoic and intimidating, uses words like 'rat' and 'goose' to insult (fondly) his loved ones. the reaction is mixed (ive will forever be confused). ive is good with uno (specifically just uno, bc it would be so funny if he's shit at other games except this one thing,,,, which is like the only game they have available at the moment lol). mayumi, despite being prone to dramatics, has a *lot* of insecurities regarding being abandoned and has more than one occasion neglected to eat or drink

moving over to the characterizations in part 2! aka this one

first, the design incorporation for ive. i tried to use designs (from pinterest) that best fit their characters, and their symbolism. butterflies for freedom and transformation, and cats for independence. peep the wings and the literal cat too lol. and the quote about being an angel . regarding his tf and his past facade of being a true perfectly good person (shattered by the literal town and ivory wraith lol). green symbolizes renewal as well.

for yui, leaning heavily towards space and heavenly bodies. the moon is sometimes used to symbolize intuition and emotions, and the astronaut symbolizes hope and the desire to learn more (at least from what i looked into). over all, it draws on the concept of space. yui is into astronomy hahshs, especially with the quote. blue represents wisdom and reliability.

mayumi's case represents two opposing meanings. pink flowers, both different types, but pink nonetheless. flowers symbolize gentleness and femininity, something mayumi wants to emulate. the quote about being not who they really are is more of how mayumi, much like ive, has a facade to play but on her end is more because of her fears and insecurities as mentioned beforehand. she can be confident and catty, but much like yui, she's actually a softy. pink symbolizes femininity, in some cases, mischief and innocence

tidbit of their skills: ive and yui have a+ skulduggery. they have good sleight of hand but do not exactly always rely on theft for their work. mayumi on the other hand is really great with stealing.

for a girl with skullduggery at the highest possible in-game level, she absolutely cannot cheat her way to winning uno against ive. they made specific rules against him and shit but he still goddamn wins. mayumi remains devastated.

yui has b+ seduction. he's good but he's awkward.... ive has the highest seduction because they're wringing out orgasms out of clients at the spa to give them more money. little shit will and has had edged as many clients as he could. mayumi also has the highest seduction skill because she uses her looks to distract clients from noticing the fact she's stealing from them.

incorporating the future au in this, ive still mans the orphanage as the new caretaker (after proving himself). mayumi spends her time at the strip club or the brothel to flirt around and do some good ol' thieving. yui coordinates by being her personal security guard, so wherever mayumi goes to work for the night, he's there to watch over her in case she gets harassed. ive tries not to meddle with the underground world much though he is aware of it,,, yui and mayumi on the other hand,,,

despite being hands off with anything that'll get him in trouble (working at the spa pays well and he gets to edge clients still! things will never change!) he does still have the card to access the police station side door so he's the one sneaking around to clear their records.

on a lighter note: when mayumi and yui eventually stumble back into the orphanage (because they refuse to leave ive behind, yay for codependency), there's always going to be food waiting for them.

oh as for the relationship with the school lis (i have a favoritism!!!) + bailey:

ive and yui both adore robin, mayumi's not as into them

ive, yui, and mayumi are into sydney though. i like to think it's the trauma . just four traumatized people in different ways bonding being freaky idk

being kidnapped really irked ive, so they withdrew from kylar. yui is,,,, well he's just not into them,, kind of. mayumi is very into them and tries to help kylar improve his social life and health

ive and whitney have this 'its not like i like you (but i do)' dynamic. neither of them are upfront about it but they are genuine when needed be. yui does not like whitney, they're not enemies per se but the less interactions the better. mayumi plays along with whitney's shenanigans to an extent! reciprocating whit's interest towards her is on the 3 scale between 1-5.

(once dynamics are established and bad blood are cleared up, they chill in robin's room to play video games - mostly robin and kylar. i just want them all to be best buds :[)

for bailey, mayumi tries not to interact with them much. she's not exactly as physically strong as ive and yui, but she tries to hold herself despite feeling intimidated. ive can get away with most things with bailey. they've spent the longest time under bailey's care, and by god does that man care in his own way . yui rebels against bailey but not always out of worry for mayumi and ive's safety if he somehow loses and gets punished for rebelling.

[winniefrezcomics]

Why does dev hate ved so much?

Also did ved have his own versions of dev’s au-pairs

No to the second part, actually! Ved lived a surprisingly quiet, humble life with his father Elad (who I’ll post some more info about in a different ask :3c)- he’s actually not even the prince of the anti fairies, Due to the fact that Elad simply isn’t that ambitious lol. (Unlike his dork-ass son, who is absolutely HELLBENT on taking over fairyworld, but keeps that on the dl uwu )

(Rough Elad concept, will finish later)

…The ruler of the anti faires in this au is actually still completely undecided tbfh, lemme know if yall have suggestions for who would make the most sense! :3c (it may have been Vicky at one point but her ass is for SURE in abracatraz atm)

As for the first part- Trust me, it is EARNED. The reason Dev’s hatred for his anti seems so blown out of proportion to everyone else is because Ved has INTENTIONALLY made it look like Dev hates him just for being an anti-fairy, to discredit anything Dev says to try and make Ved answer for the chaos he so loves causing.

(Longer explanation below)

(Dale is a WELL-KNOWN hater of anti-fairies, due to a certain experience with one named Vicky, so everyone just assumes that hatred was passed down, making Dev’s opinion very biased)

However, Because Dev is well aware he himself only PRETENDS to be mean as a defense mechanism , and actually cares very deeply for his friends and family, Dev can only assume that means Ved’s niceness is similarly fake, and he doesn’t really care about the wellbeing of others at ALL. Ved proves this to be true CONSTANTLY by harming and traumatizing bystanders of wishes- (always Indirectly enough to not break da rules) inevitably making Dev clean up his messes every single time. Aaaand As much as he hates it, Dev always does so, because if DEV messes up, he’s done with fairy godparenting for GOOD, and will have no choice but to crawl back to his dad (Perry is his “last chance” godkid, because he’s failed to help -or even just get along with- SO MANY in the short few years he’s been godparenting coughincludingIriscough)

Anyway, due to Dev and Ved’s mutual understanding of one another’s personalities (mostly through process of elimination tbfh) Dev is the ONLY fairy who has EVER seen Ved without his “mask”- something Ved has meticulously constructed to earn the trust of both faires and anti faires alike- saying and doing whatever he needs to in order to creep closer to his eventual goal.

But underneath all the fake niceness, all the goofy mannerisms, Ved has made it no secret to Dev specifically that he’s a MONSTER, and actively delights in the fact that no one will ever believe him.

Ty for the question! Lemme know if yall have anything else you wanna know about Ved lol- he specifically has been giving me TERRIBLE brainrot as of late ☠️☠️ (ngI Might eff around and rewrite set two and three so I can bring this freakass in early bc I’m honestly love him even tho he’s the WORST 😂 idk I like irredeemable villains I guess 🤓)

Sidenote: The first time they ever meet, Ved literally HUGS HIM as a power-move, looking to outsiders like a genuine gesture, but he was actually just getting close enough to whisper a taunt/ threat directly into Devs ear ☠️☠️ (will RB w that comic if I get around to finishing it lmao)

[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter nine

chapter nine: bruises and secrets

chapter summary: Yunho helps a beaten-up Mingi late at night, uncovering more than just bruises. A hidden tattoo, a dark past, and a simple confession leave Yunho questioning everything

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 3.4k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

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Yunho froze, gripping his glass of water so tightly he feared it might shatter. His heart pounded, loud and heavy, as he stared at Mingi in stunned silence. This wasn’t the same smug, sharp-tongued roommate who always seemed to have a sarcastic remark ready for him. This Mingi looked… vulnerable. Hurt.

“Mingi…” Yunho finally managed, his voice cracking as he set the glass down on the counter. “Are… are you okay?”

Mingi’s gaze flickered to Yunho briefly, his usually confident eyes now clouded with exhaustion and pain. His lips twitched, like he was about to respond, but instead, he just shook his head sharply, almost like he was brushing Yunho off without words.

“Do you—do you need help?” Yunho tried again, taking a cautious step toward him.

That earned him a glare. It wasn’t as sharp as Mingi’s usual ones, but it still made Yunho halt in his tracks.

“No,” Mingi muttered, his voice rough and hoarse. “I don’t. Don’t talk to me.”

The words stung more than they should have, but Yunho swallowed his pride. “Mingi, you’re bleeding—”

“I said,” Mingi snapped, cutting him off as he straightened his posture with a wince, “don’t talk to me.” His voice cracked on the last word, and Yunho didn’t miss the way his hand clutched his side as if the movement caused him pain.

Yunho stepped back, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender, but his eyes stayed glued to Mingi’s every move. He watched as the other boy stomped toward his room, each step uneven and heavy, his shoulders tense. Yunho winced when he heard Mingi hiss in pain as he reached for his door, but before Yunho could say anything else, Mingi yanked it open and disappeared inside, slamming it shut behind him.

For a moment, Yunho stood there, frozen in place. His mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding all at once. What had happened to Mingi? Why wouldn’t he let Yunho help? And why, despite everything—despite how rude and dismissive Mingi was being—did Yunho feel this overwhelming urge to do something?

He turned toward his own room, his footsteps slow and hesitant. Maybe it was best to just leave Mingi alone. He clearly didn’t want Yunho’s help, and it wasn’t like they were close friends or anything. Mingi had never gone out of his way to be kind to him—in fact, he usually went out of his way to be the opposite.

But as Yunho reached his door, his hand hovering over the knob, he hesitated.

He couldn’t just… not do anything.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Yunho turned and walked to the cabinet in their shared kitchen, pulling out the first aid kit he’d tucked away when they’d first moved in. His hands shook slightly as he opened it, checking to make sure everything was still there—antiseptic wipes, bandages, ointments. Good. It was all intact.

With the kit in hand, he made his way to Mingi’s door. Each step felt heavier than the last, his heart thudding louder and louder in his chest. What if Mingi yelled at him again? What if he refused to even open the door?

Yunho stopped in front of the door, staring at it for a long moment before he finally knocked.

“Mingi?” His voice was quieter than he intended, but he forced himself to keep going. “I know you said not to talk to you, and I know you probably hate me and don’t want to see me right now, but…” He hesitated, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been through multiple first aid seminars, and I just—I can’t let you sit around with open wounds like that.”

Silence.

Yunho’s fingers tightened around the handle of the first aid kit as he stared at the door, his nerves gnawing at him. Maybe Mingi wouldn’t respond. Maybe he’d just keep the door shut and ignore him.

But then, after what felt like an eternity, he heard Mingi’s voice—quiet, muffled, and low.

“It’s open.”

Yunho blinked in surprise, his heart skipping a beat. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly, but when the words registered, he reached for the doorknob.

Slowly, he pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Yunho stepped into the room hesitantly, clutching the first aid kit like it was some sort of shield. The dim light filtering in from the hallway wasn’t much help, but as his eyes adjusted, he took in the space before him.

Mingi’s room wasn’t at all what Yunho had imagined. Somehow, he’d expected chaos—maybe piles of dirty laundry, empty snack wrappers strewn across the floor, and a general air of neglect. But the reality was… surprisingly tidy. Sure, there were some clothes tossed carelessly over a chair in the corner, and an open notebook lay abandoned on the desk, but overall, it was clean. Organized, even.

He hadn’t realized he’d been standing there, staring, until a low, sarcastic voice broke through his thoughts.

“Did you actually come to help me,” Mingi drawled, “or are you just here to inspect my room?”

Yunho snapped out of it, his eyes darting to Mingi. The taller boy was sprawled in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm slung over the backrest as he leaned into it. His free hand raked through his messy hair, and the movement only seemed to emphasize the cuts and bruises scattered across his face.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Yunho stammered, his face heating up. “I was just—uh—looking around because it’s kind of dark in here.” He cleared his throat, gripping the first aid kit tighter. “Do you think we could go into the living room? I could, um, see your wounds better there.”

Mingi hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Yunho. For a moment, Yunho thought he was about to get snapped at again, but instead, Mingi let out a quiet huff, pushing himself out of the chair.

“Fine,” he muttered, standing up with a wince. “But I hope this won’t take an hour, Mister ‘I Went to First Aid Seminars.’”

Yunho bit back a small smile, following him out of the room and into the living room. Mingi dropped himself onto the sofa with a groan, leaning back against the cushions as though the short walk had drained what little energy he had left. Yunho quickly set the first aid kit on the coffee table, opening it and sorting through the supplies with practiced ease.

“Okay,” Yunho said, his voice steady as he glanced at Mingi. “First, I’ll clean the blood and everything around it so it doesn’t get infected.”

He took a closer look at Mingi’s face, and his stomach flipped. Most of the injuries were concentrated there—a split lip, the cut above his brow, going through his eyebrow as well, and the dark bruise under his eye that seemed to grow angrier by the second. That meant Yunho was going to have to get close to him.

He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his hands felt suddenly clammy.

“You’re really gonna do this standing?” Mingi asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Yunho hover awkwardly in front of him.

Yunho flushed, quickly lowering himself onto the sofa next to him. “Right, uh, no. I’ll start with your knuckles.”

Mingi didn’t say anything, simply holding out his hand. Yunho took it carefully, pulling out an antiseptic wipe and starting to clean the dried blood from his knuckles. He couldn’t help but notice how large Mingi’s hands were—broad and strong, with fingers that tapered to neatly trimmed nails painted a deep black.

Yunho’s thumb brushed against the edge of one nail as he worked, and he had to force himself not to linger.

He moved to Mingi’s other hand, his touch careful but firm as he wiped away the blood and dirt. As he worked, his mind wandered. What had happened to Mingi? Was it a fight? And if so, how bad had it been? Who was he fighting?

The questions swirled in Yunho’s mind, his fingers slowing slightly as he got lost in his thoughts.

A sharp hiss snapped him back to reality.

Yunho’s head shot up, his eyes wide with alarm. “I’m so sorry! Did that hurt a lot?”

Mingi shook his head quickly, his gaze shifting to the side. “Not at all,” he muttered, his voice quieter than before. “That wasn’t because of the cleaning.”

Yunho blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion before realization dawned on him. He glanced down at Mingi’s hand, still cradled in his, and then back up at Mingi’s face.

Mingi was looking away, his expression unreadable, but Yunho could see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck.

A soft smile tugged at Yunho’s lips.

“Right,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t press the matter, turning his focus back to Mingi’s hand.

Yunho placed the antiseptic wipe aside, glancing up at Mingi’s face briefly before his gaze dropped again to the first aid kit. His hands busied themselves with the supplies, but his mind was racing.

“Before I move to your face,” Yunho began hesitantly, “I, um… I noticed you holding your side earlier. Could I maybe check that out too? Just to make sure it’s not something more serious.”

Mingi tilted his head, an eyebrow quirking up. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and Yunho immediately regretted asking.

“Wow, Yunho,” Mingi drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “I didn’t think you were the type to try and undress me so quick. Cheeky boy.”

Yunho’s face turned a brilliant shade of red. He immediately started waving his hands, stumbling over his words in a desperate attempt to clarify. “No! No, no, no! That’s not what I meant at all! Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

“Relax,” Mingi interrupted, laughing softly. “I was just joking.”

Yunho froze mid-apology, blinking as Mingi leaned back on the couch and lifted his shirt slightly.

Time seemed to slow as the fabric rose, revealing a stretch of smooth, golden skin. Yunho’s eyes immediately locked onto the deep red mark blooming across Mingi’s side, the edges already darkening into what was sure to become an angry bruise. But that wasn’t the only thing drawing his attention.

Next to the discoloration, the faint outline of Mingi’s abs was visible, subtly defined and almost glowing under the soft light of the room. Yunho had known Mingi was fit—his broad shoulders and strong arms made that obvious—but seeing the faint ridges of muscle like this felt entirely different. It was more personal, more real.

But his thoughts didn’t linger on the abs for long. What really caught Yunho’s attention was the ink curling across Mingi’s ribs, just barely peeking out from beneath his shirt.

Yunho blinked, caught off guard. He knew Mingi had tattoos—he’d seen the ones on his arms and hands before, bold and confident—but the idea that he had more, hidden beneath his clothes, never crossed his mind. A strange mixture of surprise and curiosity bubbled up inside him.

How many more tattoos did he have? What were they? Why here, so close to his ribs, where no one could see them unless he wanted them to? Yunho’s imagination spiraled with the possibilities. Each new thought painted Mingi in a different light, one Yunho hadn’t considered before. What else was Mingi hiding beneath the surface?

Yunho’s hand hovered in mid-air as he struggled to refocus. He wasn’t supposed to be staring at Mingi’s tattoo—he was supposed to be checking the bruise. He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling slightly as he finally reached out, stopping just shy of touching Mingi’s skin.

“This is gonna bruise a lot,” Yunho murmured, his voice quieter than usual as he gently pressed his fingers against the skin. Mingi gritted his teeth, a sharp hiss escaping him at the contact.

“That must have been a big punch,” Yunho added, his thumb brushing lightly against the edge of the bruise. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of fight Mingi had been in—what had happened to leave him in such a state.

Mingi cleared his throat suddenly, his voice cutting through Yunho’s thoughts. “Kick.”

Yunho’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “What?”

“It was a kick,” Mingi said quietly, his gaze shifting away.

Yunho stared at him, his mind racing. A kick? That must’ve been brutal. What kind of situation had Mingi gotten himself into? What could possibly have led to this?

The questions burned on the tip of his tongue, but Yunho held them back, sensing that now wasn’t the time to push. Instead, he nodded, his voice soft as he said, “You can ice that side later. It should help with the swelling.”

Mingi didn’t respond, his jaw tight as he let his shirt fall back into place. Yunho turned his attention back to the first aid kit, pulling out a tube of ointment.

“I’ll put this on your knuckles next,” Yunho said, squeezing a small amount onto his fingers. “It should help.”

He carefully worked the ointment into Mingi’s hands, his touch gentle as he focused on the task at hand. But even as he worked, his mind lingered on Mingi’s words—on the bruise, the kick, and the strange mix of defiance and vulnerability in Mingi’s voice.

When he finished, he glanced up, meeting Mingi’s eyes. “Okay,” Yunho said, his voice steady but quiet. “Now I’ll move to your face.”

Mingi nodded slightly, leaning back against the couch as Yunho reached for another antiseptic wipe.

Yunho hesitated, the antiseptic wipe trembling slightly in his hand. He glanced at Mingi, who was leaning back on the couch, his face partially illuminated by the dim living room light. The bruises and cuts stood out starkly against his skin, and Yunho swallowed the nervous lump forming in his throat.

“Alright, um… I’m going to start cleaning your face now,” Yunho murmured, scooting closer to Mingi on the sofa. The space between them disappeared until their knees were almost touching. Yunho could feel the heat radiating off Mingi, which only made his hands feel clammy and awkward.

He leaned in, gently patting at the dust and dirt clinging to Mingi’s jawline. Each touch was cautious, almost reverent, as if Yunho were afraid he might break something if he pressed too hard.

As he worked, the silence between them grew heavier, pressing down on Yunho until he couldn’t take it anymore. Summoning all his courage, he cleared his throat softly and asked, “U-um, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but… what happened to you? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, his jaw tightening slightly, but after a moment, his expression softened. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to look at Yunho.

“I got into a fight,” Mingi said simply, his voice low and even.

Yunho paused, his hand hovering mid-air as he processed the answer. “A fight?” he echoed. “One-on-one?”

Mingi let out a short, humorless laugh. “More like it was supposed to be three-on-five but ended up being five-on-one.”

“You being in the group of five, I presume?” Yunho asked cautiously, trying to keep the tone light.

Mingi’s lips pressed into a straight line, his shoulders stiffening. Then he scoffed, shaking his head. “I wish.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of Mingi’s words sinking in like stones. Yunho’s hands moved automatically, continuing to clean the cuts along Mingi’s cheekbone as his mind raced. Who were these people? What could have possibly driven Mingi into a fight like that?

Before Yunho could gather his thoughts enough to speak, Mingi broke the silence himself.

“It was a group of dudes I used to talk to,” he said, his voice quieter now but steady. “They were selling some heavy shit to little kids. I just couldn’t let them do that - sell drugs to teens. Well, not even drugs, because the crap they mix is straight-up poison. They were selling to these little, naive teenagers who think it’s cool to take that stuff.”

Yunho froze mid-motion, his eyes darting up to Mingi’s face. “Wait, what? Selling to kids?”

Mingi nodded, his expression grim. “Yeah. I was with two of my friends when I confronted them, but they ran away the second the first punch was thrown.”

Yunho couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His mind spun with the implications, trying to piece together how someone like Mingi had ended up in such a situation. “But… how do you even know what they were doing? Or selling?”

Mingi chuckled dryly, finally turning his head to look at Yunho. His sharp, piercing eyes locked onto Yunho’s, and for a moment, Yunho forgot how to breathe.

“Why do you think I used to talk to them?” Mingi asked, his tone almost casual, but the weight of his words hit Yunho like a truck.

It took a second for Yunho to fully grasp what Mingi was implying, but when it did, it knocked the wind out of him. He’d heard rumors before—whispers about Mingi and the kind of things he does—but hearing it confirmed was something else entirely.

Mingi sighed, leaning back slightly against the couch. “Yeah. I was an idiot back then,” he said, almost as if reading Yunho’s mind

Yunho searched Mingi’s face, looking for any hint of dishonesty but found none. Mingi’s expression was open, honest, and tinged with something that might have been regret.

“So… you don’t do drugs anymore?” Yunho asked cautiously, unsure if he even wanted to know the answer.

Mingi tilted his head, considering the question before shrugging. “Not anymore. No. I mean, yeah, I like to drink, sometimes if anybody offers me a cig or i need one because of stress, I’ll take it , and I’ll smoke a blunt here and there, but that’s it. Nothing else. I’m not one of those naive teens anymore.”

Yunho nodded slowly, processing everything. Despite everything he’d heard tonight, despite all the shocking revelations, he couldn’t help but feel… relieved. Mingi wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he was trying to be better. That had to count for something, right?

“Okay,” Yunho said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks for telling me.”

Mingi gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod before leaning back against the couch again. Yunho returned to cleaning the cuts on Mingi’s face, his movements careful and deliberate.

Yunho’s fingers trembled as he focused on the cut above Mingi’s brow. The closer he got, the harder it was to ignore the way his own pulse thrummed in his ears. He told himself it was just nerves—just the intensity of the moment—but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

Mingi was so close. Yunho could see the faint glisten of sweat on his brow, the curve of his lashes as they fanned against his bruised cheek, and the way the dim lighting of the room softened his usually sharp features. Even battered and bruised, Mingi was… breathtaking.

Stop it, Yunho. You’re just helping him. That’s all this is.

But the thought didn’t make the heat in his face go away. If anything, it only made him more aware of how close they were. He could feel the warmth radiating from Mingi, smell the faint mix of soap and the metallic tang of blood. Yunho’s heart stuttered, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, trying to ground himself.

The air between them felt thick, charged with an unspoken tension Yunho couldn’t quite define. It was almost suffocating, the kind of silence that made every tiny movement feel amplified—the faint rustle of Mingi’s shirt as he shifted, the soft hitch in Yunho’s breath as he adjusted the bandage in his hand.

You’re overthinking it. Just focus.

He leaned in a fraction closer, his hand hovering over Mingi’s face as he peeled the backing off the small band-aid. He told himself it was just another step in the process, that it didn’t matter how close he had to get. And yet, his hand was shaking.

He almost had the band-aid in place when Mingi’s voice broke through the silence, low and steady but carrying an edge of something Yunho couldn’t quite place.

“Oh yeah, and Yunho…”

Yunho’s hand froze mid-air, his eyes darting to Mingi’s. The other boy wasn’t looking at him, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, as if he were speaking more to the room than to Yunho himself.

“To answer your concern from before…” Mingi’s tone was casual, almost too casual, as if he were choosing his words carefully.

Yunho blinked, his breath catching in his throat. Concern? His mind raced, trying to figure out what Mingi meant. Was it something he’d said earlier?

“I don’t hate you.”

What?

[siilvan]

like real people do

characters: yuri

summary: after a mission goes badly, yuri comes to you to air out his frustrations, and what was a complicated situation ends up becoming something more.

genre: explicit, light angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader (no desc.)

warnings: cursing, mentions of canon-typical violence, brief mentions of blood/injuries, friends w/ benefits situation, soft dom!yuri, slight possessive!yuri, oral (f!receiving), fingering, lil' hand kink, tattoos <3, unprotected piv, creampies, overstimulation, manhandling, praise, some references to religion, idk yuri's a simp, he's drowning in guilt and pussy

word count: 5.3k

note: this is going to get zero notes, but do i care? no. i'm writing for yuri and forcibly shoving him in everyone's faces until people love him. he's my favorite character and that is going to be VERY obvious here. i have more fics planned. so many. everyone thank @froglights-and-pearls for reminding me of who i am.

aaaand a big thank you to @sofasoap for proofreading this <33

"well, that was a fuckin' bust, yeah?" soap comments after collapsing into a seat, earning pointed looks from the rest of the group as you all boarded the transport helicopter.

gaz slumps down next to him and exhales heavily, shaking his head. "think that's putting it lightly, mate." he chuckles, tapping soap on the shoulder.

ghost takes a seat on soap's other side, rolling his neck to stretch out sore muscles - he took a nasty hit during the mission, his mask partially torn on the cheek and revealing bloodstained skin. you end up sandwiched between price and yuri, tilting your head back to rest against the wall as the adrenaline coursing through you dissipates.

to say that this operation went horribly would be an understatement. you all managed to escape with your lives intact, but the valuable cargo that you were hunting down was lost. you fought to get this lead in the first place, and now you're returning to base with nothing to show for your work other than damaged bodies and morale.

your head rolls to the side, and you end up staring at yuri's side profile. he's hunched forward slightly, a pensive look on his face, brows knitted together from clear frustration.

it’s been a few months since nikolai introduced yuri to the team. after laswell brought up makarov in that chicago bar, everything seemed to move at the speed of light; the invasion of al-mazrah, calling a ceasefire with shadow company, teaming up with farah's forces, mobilizing again before you could even catch your breath... the only good thing to come out of this hectic situation was your newest ally.

yuri was an interesting case from the start. nikolai claims that the two go way back and, after hearing the way he talked about the man prior to your first meeting, you're inclined to believe him when he describes yuri as "one of his best."

his status as a member of nikolai's faction is enough to pique your curiosity - you find out that he's ex-spetsnaz as well, but what catches the entire squad's attention is the offhand comment that the pilot makes.

"he's the only person i know that hates makarov more than you, price."

none of you get the chance to ask him to elaborate, and you've since reached the point where his explanation doesn't matter. yuri fit into the team fairly easily, and trust was quickly built upon after a few missions together. he seemed to understand the enemy just as well as the captain, if not even better. soap made a joke about yuri knowing him a little too well at one point, which he brushed off with a dismissive shake of his head.

the sergeants were the first ones to warm up to him, with price and yourself on their heels. ghost, always wary of anyone new, is a little slower to trust, but after yuri took a bullet in the leg for him, ghost was quick to welcome him into your group.

your lips twitch into a tired smile when yuri glances at you from the corner of his eye, his shoulders dropping slightly upon seeing your face. his hardened expression softens for just a moment, and you mentally celebrate the small victory while nudging his foot closest to you with the side of your boot.

the ride back to base is mostly quiet, save for price updating laswell on the situation over the radio. you're all dejected over the loss, even after price reminds you to not let it get to your heads.

yuri seems especially upset over it, though. you doubt the rest of the team picks up on his mood, but it's clear as day to you.

you've spent a fair number of nights under the man, after all. you'd be ashamed if you couldn't read him by now. the subtle flexing of his fingers wrapped around his gun, the way his pupils dilate as he loses himself in his thoughts, the clench in his jaw - you recognize the signs faster than your own reflection in a mirror.

he's angry. pissed off, actually. yuri doesn't often let his emotions show, preferring to keep up a façade of cool collectedness, but it slips out on occasion.

and when it does, you catch it. you always do.

the chopper touches down on the airstrip eventually, and you relegate yourself to the back of the group as you step out onto the tarmac. price excuses himself to his office while ghost heads off to the medical bay, and the sergeants make a beeline for the showers as soon as their boots hit the ground.

you watch as yuri wordlessly sets off towards the training grounds. it's a habit he has: airing his grievances out on a target.

you, meanwhile, loosely trail behind the sergeants and hop in the shower, rinsing off the grime from the battlefield and willing the loss to wash away with it. you stop by the mess hall for a bit, running into a patched-up ghost, before heading off to your room.

the base that the task force is currently staying at is a bit odd compared to most, in that you have more privacy than normal. while most places offer you cramped barracks or small dorms, the team was given proper rooms in a separate wing. privileges, gaz joked upon your initial arrival.

you're left to your own devices until a while after the sun sets. there's a knock at the door that you almost immediately recognize. you've heard it before, always after night has fallen and the sky is blanketed in darkness.

you trudge across the room and swing the door open, revealing yuri standing on the other side. his gaze stays low, not quite looking at you, but not quite looking away, either. you instinctively move to the side, allowing him to step into the room. the door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving you staring at him as a silence hangs in the air between you.

"need something?" you ask, breaking the silence with a soft voice. his eyes finally flit up to meet yours. there's something swirling in those pale eyes of his, an internal conflict that you've never been able to understand or pull out of him.

"company," he mutters, and you know what he means from that single word.

"destroying a few more targets didn't help, huh?" you chuckle, coming to stand in front of him. you slowly slide your hands up his arms, skimming over his shoulders and cupping his jaw gently. "you look angry, yuri."

he huffs, warm air puffing against your cheek. you can smell the tobacco on his breath. he's been smoking, yet another habit that he tries to avoid showing, especially after you commented on it.

"the only thing that will help is you," he replies, hands settling on your waist. calloused fingertips carefully dig into your flesh underneath your clothes, pulling your body closer to his. "only you can make the anger go away." he adds, thumbs tracing gentle circles into your skin.

you hum, keening at the subtle praise. your palms slide down and press flat against his chest, his heartbeat thrumming strong under your fingertips. you two established a set of rules at the beginning of this arrangement, and you've both been rigid in keeping to them. no kissing, no marking, no "i love you's," no jealousy—

no feelings. this is purely for pleasure, for keeping each other sane outside the battlefield. feelings would only serve to complicate things, and you already have enough on your plates as-is. the rules of engagement were clear, though there were those rare times that the lines blurred.

such as yuri's lips dragging across your sensitive skin after his head drops to your neck. he wouldn't kiss you, he wouldn't suck or bite, but the featherlight trail that he would trace might as well be a mark of its own. you angle your head back, a low sigh falling from your lips. his heartbeat speeds up just barely under your touch, your own picking up speed to match.

you let him walk you backwards toward the bed, the backs of your knees pressing into the edge of the mattress. he lifts his head and leans in close to your ear, his next words mumbled against your skin.

"on your back."

you obey without complaint, pulling your hands away and crawling up the bed, laying on your back and propping yourself up on your elbows.

you watch as he stands at the foot of the bed, his eyes never straying from yours while he pulls off his gloves and drops them somewhere behind him. the gauntlet on his forearm goes next, and you stare with great intrigue as he easily undoes the straps holding it in place and tosses it aside, the hard material carelessly clattering against the carpet. your eyes fall from his, landing on the various tattoos that adorn his hands and forearms, the ink telling a story that you're sure would send your adrenaline rushing.

he sinks to his knees after a second, blunt nails digging into the plush of your thighs as he pulls your body across the duvet towards him. like clockwork, he slides your uniform pants and soaked underwear down your legs before grabbing your thighs and spreading them, leaving your core completely exposed under his heated gaze.

he doesn't give you a chance to blink as he dives in, hot tongue licking a stripe up your slit and sending your head flying back against the bed. you push your hips up towards his face as he laves over your folds, fucking dripping the second his eyes landed on you after showing up at your door, pulling a shameless moan from your lips.

contrary to his usual generosity, yuri entirely avoids your clit as he stuffs your cunt with his tongue, greedily lapping up your arousal before pulling back and making wide circles around the sensitive bud. he teases it with a small flick and dips his head to plunge into your sopping hole again, humming and sending vibrations coursing through you.

you whine, fisting the duvet and squeezing your eyes tightly shut. "fuck, yuri— stop teasing—"

he lifts his head from your cunt and groans, throaty and utterly debauched. "patience," he mutters, heaving one of your thighs over his shoulder and digging his fingers into your hip. "you know i'll take care of you."

you choke on a sob when he flattens his tongue against your clit, circling around it and drawing it into his mouth. he sucks on it before delving into your heat once more, his nose nudging the bundle of nerves and making your back arch off the mattress. the lewd sounds filling the room as he fucks you with his tongue light a fire under your skin, covering your body in a thin sheen of sweat as you moan and clamp your thighs around his head.

he moans into your cunt, hands gripping your thighs as his hips jolt forward, eating you out like a man starved.

"yuri— oh, fuck—" you gasp. "please, please— 'm so fucking close—" you're not sure what you're begging for, what you always end up begging for, but as the coil in your stomach tightens, you can't find it in yourself to think about it any longer.

your jaw goes slack, mouth falling open as his tongue swipes up your arousal, his nose pressing into your swollen clit and dragging a stuttering moan from your parted lips.

"oh my— fucking god... yuri—" you whimper as your cunt pulses and spasms around his tongue, gushing into his mouth with another moan of his name that bounces off the walls of the room. he groans into your wetness and eagerly laps it up, working you through your orgasm as you grind against his face, chasing the sweet pleasure.

after your legs go limp on his shoulders, yuri resurfaces from your cunt, hands massaging your thighs while your breaths come out in pants, chest heaving.

"just like that," he whispers, smearing your slick across your inner thigh as his lips drag across your skin. you look down at him, seeing his steely gaze already trained on your blissed-out expression. "you can give me another, hm?" he asks, brows briefly raising with the question.

his voice has dropped low, his russian accent thick and heavy, words slightly slurring together as he stares up at you. his pale irises are hardly visible around pupils blown wide with lust, and you swallow back a pathetic sound at the sight.

"you can give me another." yuri echoes, more as a statement of fact than a question this time. he knows he's right— you know he's right.

you suck in a breath as two fingers prod at your aching heat, sliding up and down your glistening folds and gathering a mixture of your slick and his saliva.

"fuck, just— please—"

your pleads are cut off by his fingers plunging into you, sinking right up to the knuckle and making you writhe against the bed. they're thick, stretching you open as he curls them inside you, scraping against your gummy walls and teasing that spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back in your skull.

a third digit prods at your entrance after a moment, leaving you moaning and frantically searching for purchase on the bedsheets after he adds it in, pumping three fingers inside you.

"taking me so well..." he grunts, pressing his thumb to your puffy clit and circling it in tight, fast motions.

you buck your hips into his touch, legs shaking as your cunt clenches around his digits like a vice. his unoccupied hand releases your thigh and skates up your side, wrapping around your wrist and distracting you from his ministrations for a second.

he suddenly yanks you towards him, making you sit up and stoop over him. one of your hands lands on his shoulder, holding yourself upright as he continues fucking his fingers into you.

"look at yourself— look at how good you're doing for me." yuri sighs, holding your wrist tight to keep you from falling back. you whine, forcing yourself to tilt your head and stare at where his fingers disappear inside you.

the noises coming from the spot are obscene, lewd squelches accompanying every thrust in and out of your dripping core. you admire your own mess until your attention shifts to him— his fingers, his hand, working you open and sending you to cloud nine.

you've been horribly attracted to his hands ever since he first touched you with them. they're calloused, rough, experienced like you'd expect from someone in the field; but, the ink adorning his skin is what catches your eye. there's crosses on his fingers— holy symbols— and you watch as they drip with your arousal, black ink shining with the wetness coating them and dripping down his wrist.

it feels sinful, like you're fucking in the pews of a church. the rush of it makes your body grow hotter, heat flooding to your cheeks as you bite back a moan.

"take off your shirt." he says, eyes fixated on your drooling cunt.

you manage to tear your hand from his shoulder and slip your shirt over your head, your bra quickly following suit and landing in another small pile of clothes somewhere nearby. yuri's gaze flits up and lands on your breasts, a groan rumbling deep in his chest.

he mumbles something in russian before leaning in, drawing his tongue across one of your nipples and taking it into his mouth. you moan as he greedily sucks on it, your hand cradling the back of his head and holding him close.

it's risky— you two are toeing the line, pushing the rules you established at the start of this relationship.

he moves to your other nipple a moment later and lavishes it with the same treatment, reducing you to a needy, whiny mess. by the time he pulls back from your breasts with a wet pop, there's dark hickeys left in his place.

that's a rule broken.

his head dips back down and his mouth replaces his thumb, hot tongue swirling around your clit as you're suddenly brought back to the present with a loud moan. his hand squeezes around your wrist, reminding you that he only let go long enough for you to strip off the remainder of your clothes. you twist your arm, forcing him to loosen his grip—

he places a few more licks to your clit before wrapping his lips around it, and you moan as the vibrations bring you closer to your second orgasm of the night. you escape his hold only to search for his hand, blindly reaching for it as the pleasure forces you to screw your eyes shut. you fumble after finally finding it, but yuri's quick to help, interlocking your fingers and allowing you to squeeze his hand in a near-death grip.

fuck, this is getting too intimate. he's already broken one rule, and you're just about ready to break the rest. he mirrors your action, holding your hand as you teeter over the edge, your orgasm rapidly approaching.

"so close— 'm so close, yuri. fuck, please—!" you moan, trembling like a leaf in the wind as your orgasm slams into you.

he pumps faster still, letting you ride out the waves of pure bliss until you're whimpering and attempting to move your hips away. yuri lifts his head and hunts for your gaze, locking eyes with you as you hazily look down at him. he pulls his fingers from your folds and hums, satisfied, before pressing them to your lips and cocking his head to the side.

you know what he wants. you take his fingers into your mouth and lave your tongue over them, tasting yourself as you clean your release off of them. he watches you, shifting as his other hand releases yours and reaches for his belt.

"tastes fucking heavenly." he utters softly, sending a shiver down your spine.

he pulls his fingers out and chuckles at your pout, before nodding at the pillows behind you. "get comfortable. we're not done yet."

he sits up on his knees and starts to unbuckle his belt as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. instead of climbing up the bed, however, you reach out and start pawing at his shirt, tugging at it with a small noise of complaint.

yuri lets you undress him, a quiet sigh escaping him as your nails gently scrape down his chest and stomach, trailing over rigid muscle and old scars that he hesitated to tell the stories behind and often disregarded whenever you'd ask about them. you toy with the waistband of his cargos, earning an amused huff and yuri pulling your hands back.

"lay back," he commands in a warm tone, lips twitching into a small smile. "let me take care of you."

your gaze narrows at him, but you comply nonetheless. "thought you came to me for stress relief, not spoiling me."

you hear fabric hitting the floor before he's moving on top of you, caging you in with his hands on either side of your body. "spoiling you helps relieve my stress." he replies, giving you a look as if what he said was an obvious fact.

"lucky me, then." you laugh before cutting yourself off with a sharp inhale as the head of his cock prods at your entrance, dragging through your folds and coating itself in your arousal. his cock sits heavy against your core, a firm weight grounding you in the moment.

yuri grips the base of his shaft in one hand as the other rests next to your head, a tight fist in the sheets. you raise your hips slightly and let out a whine, lifting your arms to grasp at his shoulders as his cock slowly pushes in. a deep groan escapes him as he sinks deeper and deeper inside, your gummy walls fluttering and pulsing around him.

"fuck," he rasps, bottoming out with one final push. "missed this— it's been too long. needed you under me days ago."

you breathe out a moan, tossing your head back against the pillows when he dips down to your neck, panting against your feverish skin. he pulls out, dragging back until the tip just barely slips past your entrance, before snapping his hips forward and burying himself to the hilt.

you're already fighting back a sob as he sets a brutal pace, bullying his cock into your aching cunt, your hands clinging to him anywhere you can find purchase. his shoulders, back, arms— your nails dig into his skin, leaving angry crescent-shaped marks wherever they land. the bedframe creaks under your shared weights, headboard knocking against the wall with each pointed thrust.

after seconds of searching, your hands end up sliding up to his jaw, and you nudge him until he moves from your neck, his face hovering just above yours. your fingertips trace over his jawline tenderly as his forehead comes to rest against yours, your breaths co-mingling. it's too much. you manage to catch his gaze, eyes locking while the tips of your noses brush together. it's not enough.

"what are you doing?" yuri whispers, voice hoarse. he doesn't make any move to pull away; he seems to soften under your touch, if anything.

fuck it.

you surge forward, closing the small gap between you. his movements almost immediately stall once your lips connect and, for a split second, complete terror floods through your veins as the severity of the act hits you.

his hand flies to your face, cupping your cheek and holding you in place as he deepens the kiss with a quiet moan. you squirm under him, your hips pinned to the mattress and flush with his, impatiently seeking out more.

more stimulation, more pleasure, more him.

"we shouldn't be doing this," he mutters against your lips after prying himself away. "the— the agreement—" he adds, though the words die on his tongue as he kisses you again, hungry, like he's been starving up until this point. you try your best to keep up, even as the sheer possessiveness of the kiss easily steals all the air from your lungs.

you break from the kiss only when you're forced to, taking staggering breaths while his hand leaves your face and trails down your side slowly, landing on your thigh once more. he kneads the flesh before pulling your leg to wrap around his waist, allowing his cock to push in that much deeper.

"you deserve better than this." yuri says, pressing his forehead to yours.

with an airy chuckle, you shake your head. "i want you—"

yuri lets out a sound akin to a whimper and a moan, his iron grip on you only tightening when you roll your hips into his. "i'm not— hah, fuck— you feel like heaven… i'm not worth it. i don't deserve it."

you shush him softly, thumbs stroking along his cheeks as you press your lips to his. "let me give you a little peace." you murmur, letting out another heady moan after he starts rocking into you again, his cockhead brushing against that spongy spot inside you that has your back arching off the mattress.

"i only know peace with you in my arms." he replies with a choked sigh. the pressure in the pit of your stomach rapidly builds - between his words and his cock practically rearranging your guts to fit itself deeper inside, you're rendered little more than a breathless, desperate mess pinned underneath him.

it doesn't take much longer for you to reach your peak, barely having the chance to give proper warning before it's washing over you.

"fuck, m'gonna cum—!" you cry, fat tears gathering at your waterline and threatening to spill over.

yuri groans, gravelly, drowning in his own pleasure. "that's it, just come undone for me... show me how good you feel— how good i make you feel." his voice drops, a near-growl lacing his words by the end of the command.

"please, любимая— i need it, i need to feel you..." he says against your lips. "you can do it, i know you can, just one more for me."

that's all it takes to send your next orgasm crashing over you, your legs shaking and mouth falling open in a broken moan of his name. he keeps fucking you through it, hands grasping and kneading at your soft skin hard enough to bruise in the morning, pressing his body flush to yours as he chases his own release.

"good, good... i knew you could do it, my good girl," yuri utters, thrusting sloppily into your heat. "almost there— going to fill you up, nice and full— you've been so good, done so well for me. so proud of you."

he finishes with a guttural moan, pressing impossibly closer to you as warmth floods your insides, some of his cum spilling out of your overworked cunt as he gives a couple more thrusts before stilling, both of you breathing heavily. you stay there for a few seconds, yuri's hands running over your flushed skin as yours run along his shoulders and back, silently basking in the moment.

"i don't deserve you," he says, voice quiet as he kisses a small trail to your ear.

you trace abstract shapes into his skin, smiling to yourself at the way he leans into your touch. "we wouldn't be in this position if you didn't," you angle your head and pepper the side of his jaw with chaste kisses. "we are really bad at following our own rules, though." you add with a chuckle.

he hums, agreeing, and pulls back enough to look down at you. a beat passes before your spent pussy throbs, feeling his half-softened cock start to harden again.

"just one more?" he asks, watching intently as your eyelids droop at the sensation.

"no, yuri— i can't—"

"you can, you've done it before." he reassures you, capturing your lips in a brief, but sweet kiss. "just one more, okay? i promise, just one."

he sits up and drags you along with him, sliding out of your cum-soaked cunt and turning your tired body over as you whine and grumble about it. your front is laid flat against the pillows and your hips propped up, his hands massaging them while he shushes you gently.

yuri presses into you again, his cock sliding past your folds with little resistance and nestling deep inside you with a single push. you whimper from the overstimulation, clit throbbing and legs shaking as you try to hold yourself up.

all it takes to make you moan and bury your face in the pillow is a sharp thrust, his pelvis slamming against the backs of your thighs as he starts a pace you weren't at all expecting. how does he still have so much fucking energy?

"see? i told you— my good girl, my perfect girl, you can give me another one." he muses, rutting into you and savoring each lewd sound that leaves your mouth and soaking wet cunt.

"i can't— 's too much, yuri—" you sob, tears finally spilling over and streaking down your cheeks as he tugs you closer, your tired body sliding up the mattress every time he slams back into you. "please, 'm gonna fall— too weak, too much—" you babble between sniffles and ragged gasps, fisting the bedsheets.

one of his arms circles around your middle and pulls you back, forcing you to sit up on your knees as he holds you to his chest. your head falls forward almost immediately, struggling to keep upright, and his free hand wraps around your throat, carefully but firmly moving your head to rest against his shoulder. he's not choking you, he's not even applying enough pressure to affect your airflow, but it made your breath hitch nonetheless.

"you can take it. just one more, just cum for me one more time," yuri says, dipping his head to press wet, sloppy kisses to your shoulder and neck. "my perfect girl, my sweet fucking girl— want to fill you up, милая. make you drip with me." you wince when his teeth sink in to your skin, leaving painful marks that he soothes with a lick and another kiss, before sucking dark hickeys wherever his mouth can reach.

you frantically grab onto his arms for stability, laying your head back on his shoulder as his hand leaves your neck and travels down your front. it lightly skims over your bruised nipples and makes you shiver, before sliding down your stomach and reaching your clit. he settles two fingers on it, grunting against your pulse as your abused walls clamp down around his length like a vice.

you're dizzy, head spinning as you feel your climax approaching, the pleasure coiling deep in your stomach and causing you to cling to him that much harder.

"yuri... i'm gonna— fuck, please, i wanna cum—"

"i know, i know—" yuri buries his face in the crook of your neck, biting down to muffle the animalistic sounds pouring from his lips. "cum for me, just one more. you can rest after, i'll take care of you, just give me one more—"

you break with a sob, his name falling from your lips like some kind of mantra as your cunt gushes and spasms around his cock.

your body might as well be boneless with how much you're trembling, held up entirely by yuri's arms around you and his own body supporting you. true to his word, he lays you down again, your upper half limply resting on the bed as he grinds into you, barely pulling out before slamming back in.

his pace is frantic, uneven, as he literally fucks you into the mattress, and you don't even have the energy to help him get off like you want to. all you can do is moan and look at him with half-lidded, glassy eyes from over your shoulder, watching as he nears his own peak.

"please, want it inside... please, yuri—" the words slip out, almost inaudible over the sounds of your shared panting, the bed creaking, and the arrhythmic knocking of the headboard against the wall. you'd pity whoever has the room adjacent, if you could even remember any names other than yuri's.

your begging seems to be what finally sends him over the edge, his cum spilling into you again as he lets out a broken moan and a string of curses in russian, your slick walls fluttering around him and trying to milk his cock for everything it has.

he nearly collapses on top of you after a few more thrusts, his body falling in line with yours as he lets some of his weight rest on you. you're both spent, taking in greedy gasps of air as you gradually come down from your highs.

yuri's the first to move, pulling his cock out of you and shifting to hover just above your body, his upper half still comfortably pressing into yours. a gentle hand runs along your side as he peppers your shoulders and the back of your neck with tender kisses, his warm breath fanning over you.

"we, um..." you clear your throat upon hearing the hoarse tone. "we're screwed, aren't we?"

he chuckles, leaning in to kiss the spot below your ear. "yes, we are."

"i think i prefer it this way."

"so do i."

translations:

любимая (liubimaya) - my love/beloved

милая (milaya) - dear/darling

taglist: @sofasoap

[ayteya]

Human or Avatar!reader giving her first ever Na'vi bracelet or necklace made by herself to Neteyam/Tsu'tey. It's not an amazing work, maybe even quite bad, but he keeps it anyway.

Also if you want to add some spice, such a gift may give him a wrong idea. But it's up to you.

Narlor - Beautiful

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

Word count: 473

Warnings: ngl, I wrote this at literally 2 a.m. (Yes that's a warning itself), so I dunno if there are any mistakes (Sorry sorry). I just forgot to post it, so that's what I'm doing now.

A/N: Hey anon, thx for the request ^-^ I chose to do this one with Teyam, cuz I have smth in my drafts for Tsu'tey- Also, I didn't add spice, cuz I didn't rlly saw it fit into this fic, hope you'll forgive me <3

„Aaaand finished.“, he laid the newly-made necklace down on his thigh. „What about you, paskalin?“, Neteyam looked over at Y/N, watching her fingers move at the piece of jewelry.

She didn't turn to meet his eyes, still focused on tying the knots, „Mhm... Just a bit more.“

Neteyam nodded, silently sitting cross legged next to his girlfriend, watching her in awe as she created a necklace as beautiful as herself. How did he get so lucky? How did he get so lucky, to have a girl like that as his mate?

That 'a bit more' turned into 15 minutes, and she finally tied the finishing knot. „Done... Frustrating crap... Now I know why I'm better at hunting.“, dramatically, Y/N let herself fall back to the ground from her sitting position.

„It looks beautiful. You did really good, yawne.“

Y/N just blankly stared at him, at the necklace, then back at Neteyam again. „Yeah no. Doesn't look good. Just take a look at yours- The entire thing looks so- so... I dunno how to describe it, just wow. And then-“, she let out a scoff, holding up her selfmade jewelry with a single finger „and then there's this thing right here.“

The young man lightly pushed her shoulder, „Hey, stop talking like that, would you?. It looks great, alright? It's your first one, you'll make more in the future and I'm sure you're gonna like them.“

„Yeah ok, but look at that knot and bead right there, it's-“

Neteyam interrupted her with a quick „No, I said stop.“

But Y/N being Y/N, she didn't listen, „Lo'ak would've done better than m-“, her sentence was stopped as she felt Teyam's lips on her own, engaging her in a kiss.

After some seconds passed, they pulled apart, only for him to lean in once more, stealing another kiss from her soft lips. Y/N was kinda suprised, so she asked him, „What was that for?“

He only responded with, „Was the only way to stop you from talking shit, yawne.“

----

The next day, when Y/N saw Neteyam again, her eyes immediately fell to his neck. There was a necklace. Her necklace. The one she made the day before. How could he wear such thing?

Neteyam noticed her gaze and chuckled. „I didn't lie when I said it's beautiful.“, he mentioned to Y/N „You're wearing the one I made as well.“

„Of course, but-“

„Paskalin, Dad doesn't want me to be late for training again.“, he stroked her cheek before bending down to give her a passionate kiss. „I'll see you later, yeah?“, with that, Neteyam stepped over to Jake, who was standing some feet away, aling with a handful of other hunters from the clan.

Now it was Y/N's turn to think how she could get so lucky, as she watched her beloved boyfriend walk away.

!Translations! Paskalin - Honey/Sweet berry Yawne - Beloved

Hope you liked it, if you want to request something, just click here.

Love y'all, Ayteya <3

[gleeful-side]

Well here it is: the cosplay project! :) The pictures were taken at Gamescom by my dear friend (@ luca05.arw on instagram/ @luca-photography on Cara if you want to look at some of his other photographs) who also did the 3D print for the Ranger Helmet

I’ll be talking more about gamescom under the cut with some more pictures

(First picture w/ power armour by AJ Designs GmbH (www.ajdesigns .de), second picture at booth by Fallout Cosplay group RADnecks (@ rad_necks on instagram), third picture is mirror in hotel room :’))

The two of us went to Gamescom on Saturday and Sunday. Both days were kinda cramped, especially Saturday. The experience was nonetheless really great.

Spent a lot of time at the RadNecks booth who were just absolutely lovely. We went there on both days. Definitely a highlight. One of their guys there talked to us for a while about prop making, different techniques. I got to hold their own model of an NCR ranger helmet, which was really impressive and also surprisingly heavy. They have more detailed shots of their booth on their instagram, so you should be able to spot it on the shelves.

Which the amount of detail at that booth was just insane. The different weathered comic issues they had, different weapons, the TV playing the animations from Fallout 4… or the drink cans being Fusion Cores. Just impressive.

Again the people there were just really nice. I got compliment’s from some of them for my cosplay which just, man, means a lot :) oh and also free pins, they did give out free pins. Which I proceeded to proudly wear on Sunday.

On the topic of impressive: the Power Armour by AJ Designs was just WOW uhm I get the hype around power armour really. Just seeing the model is one thing but also seeing that over two meter tall thing move is a whole nother. Many people took pictures with it when it was being operated on Sunday - of course I also had to. And I also got a fist bump. Unfortunately no picture of that, but it did happen! And it was really cool!

Aaaand here’s a picture from another booth that was displaying some props. A Mister Handy! Nice. The guy at the booth also shouted “fuck the NCR” at me which was kinda funny and putting that aside the guy was also really friendly (seriously, had another good conversation there)

Other than what I have pictures of: there was a good amount of people wearing vault suits, I saw one person cosplaying Joshua Graham on Saturday (if you’re reading this, I’m sorry that I didn’t say hi), and on Sunday there was someone dressed as an Assaultron walking around and taking pictures at the RadNecks booth. (Actually I do have a picture of that, but I don’t know if they’d be okay with me posting that. Didn’t ask for their socials :’)))

Gamescom was an absolute blast this year. I really didn’t expect to be having such a good time. It was cramped sure - but all of the people, the conversations really made up for it. I also didn’t think that that many people would ask for pictures of my cosplay. Hopefully the confidence that the event gave me will carry onto other aspects of my life. :)

On a finishing note: again thank you to the friend who went to Gamescom with me. Thank you for doing the 3D print, and the whole hastle that that was, thank you for taking the pictures and also for being support :) it really wouldn’t have been the same without you.

[glorious-spoon]

For the Spotify ficlet: buddie aaaand number 2? :)

hello, and thank you! i return 3 months late, bearing fic. number 2 was the funeral by band of horses, so please enjoy this odd little meditation about eddie and grief and second chances

to know me as hardly golden 1631 words | buddie | emotional hurt/comfort, pre-relationship

-

Eddie is six years old when he attends his first funeral. A great-aunt, on his dad's side—he has a vague memory of a frail white-haired woman with hugs that smelled like baby powder. His abuela was the youngest of her siblings by far, and he remembers her standing in the sunlight by the gravesite, iron-gray hair neatly pinned back, eyes dry, mouth pressed to a thin flat line as she watched her sister's coffin sink slowly into the earth.

At six, he doesn't really understand it. But he understands enough to hug her, and he feels her press a kiss to the crown of his head and murmur, Eddito, Eddito, in a soft, shaking voice.

It's an old, hazy memory. He's surprised he's hung onto it this long, but it lingers even now that he's lost count of the number of funerals he's been to. Shannon's should have been the one that hurt the worst, but the truth is he barely remembers it; he moved through that entire day like a wind-up toy, dazed and distant, registering almost nothing other than Christopher.

He didn't attend the funerals of any of the people he saved in Afghanistan, because there weren't supposed to be funerals. That was supposed to be the one thing that made it all worth it—ruining his marriage and missing his son's first steps, the nightmares and the guilt and everything else he stomped down into a deep dark hole where he'd never have to look at it. At least, he always told himself, at least there were four people living in the world who wouldn't be here if it weren't for him.

It takes a while to get past that one, after he learns the truth. A smashed-up wall, a frightened son, and a lot of therapy. A week of Buck sleeping on his couch and wishing he had the courage to ask him to share the bed. Not in the way he sometimes half let himself imagine, but just to have another person there. The solidity of a living breathing body, a person he loves, a person he can still keep safe.

In the hospital after the lightning strike, he haunts the hallways like a ghost, watching his family come in and out of Buck's room, unable to make himself come any closer. He can't stop imagining the funeral: Maddie's white face, the woodenness of Margaret and Phillip Buckley. Bobby and Hen and Chimney. Christopher. He can't stop imagining what Buck might look like in a casket, how much like the way he looks now: silent and white and still in a way that Buck never is.

Buck wakes up, and Eddie hugs him and teases him and lets him sleep on his couch, and he doesn't shove all the rest of it into a deep dark hole because he knows better than that now.

But it lingers, like a wound. Like something he doesn't know how to touch, to handle, to even think about let alone talk about. He moves around it, mostly. He lets Buck cheat at cards and cook him steak and ramble about bioluminescent octopuses from the latest wildlife documentary he watched, and he doesn't say, I imagined going to your funeral.

Buck knows, is the thing. That fear, that lingering directionless grief, Buck knows it. He's careful with Eddie, as if Eddie's the one who was wounded, and it would irk him more if he didn't remember being careful with Buck after the shooting in exactly the same way. 

It's a terrible thing to understand about a person, but the alternative would be worse.

It doesn't come to a head so much as unravel the night after a bad shift a few months later, Buck sleeping on his couch even though he's never stopped complaining about how uncomfortable it is, because it's better than being alone. If Eddie were a better person, maybe he'd protest.

(If Eddie were less of a coward, maybe he'd ask Buck to share his bed. He's not even sure what he's so afraid of: at this point, he thinks it'd be a relief if Buck could see through him to the love he's been bleeding out for months or maybe years now. But he remembers Buck so quiet and still in that hospital bed, and he remembers the feel of Buck's chest unmoving beneath his hands, and the words strangle themselves in his throat every time.)

It's a dream that brings him out into the living room in the dark of night, or half a dream, anyway. Half a memory. The night Buck started breathing on his own, Maddie called him, and he woke up immediately and almost let the call go to voicemail, because if she was calling to tell him that Buck was dead then at least there'd be a few minutes more when he didn't know.

He answered, anyway, and Maddie was crying, and it took Eddie several gut-lurching seconds to figure out that they were good tears.

He wakes up now with the echo of his phone's ringtone in his ears, and fumbles it to him, half-asleep and chilled, to stare at the empty screen for several minutes before he realizes that it must have been a dream.

He swears under his breath, puts the phone down, drops his head back against the pillow.

Probably, he should just close his eyes and try to go back to sleep. That's what he usually does, albeit with extremely mixed results. It's not like he's going to call Buck in the middle of the night and wake him up just to reassure Eddie's sleep-scrambled brain that he's still alive.

But Buck is here, and Eddie is a weak man, when it comes down to it. He shoves his feet into his chanclas and makes his quiet way through the house, pausing first at Christopher's door—his noise machine is quiet now, his breathing heavy and peaceful—before heading into the living room. Buck is sprawled across the couch, long limbs everywhere, the throw blanket he always sleeps under tangled between his legs. Eddie's got a painfully affectionate impulse to tug it loose and drape it over him properly, but instead he lingers in the doorway, watching Buck's chest rise and fall, his soft, steady snoring. If he turned the light on, he knows that Buck's skin would be pink and healthy, aside from the minor bruising where the hydraulic rescue tool slipped and whacked him across the arm at that multi-car pileup that kept them out an hour past the end of their shift.

Buck's already been checked over. He's fine; he wasn't even wincing on the ride back home. Eddie stays where he is anyway, watching Buck breathe for several quiet minutes, until Buck shifts on the couch, brings a hand up to rub clumsily at his face, and mumbles, "You gonna just loom in the doorway all night, or what?"

"Sorry," Eddie says, flushing. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay." Buck levers himself upright, yawning, before Eddie can tell him not to. On the couch, he hunches over, rubbing at his eyes, then blinks up at Eddie with such sleepy affection that something twists sharply in Eddie's chest. "Come on. Come sit down."

Eddie takes a breath, then lets it out, then crosses the living room to sit on the other side of the couch. Buck turns toward him; his knee bumps Eddie's thigh, and he doesn't pull away.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," Eddie says back, and he finally exhales quiet laughter. Buck's just looking at him with a crooked little smile on his face, sympathetic eyes, like he knows exactly what brought Eddie out to the living room.

"You wanna check my vitals?" he asks.

His tone is teasing, soft. And it's that, maybe, or it's the quiet and the dark and the way that Buck still hasn't moved away, that has Eddie reaching across the space between them to press his fingers to the side of Buck's throat. Warm skin, faint stubble, and Buck's pulse beneath that, strong and steady. He can feel it when Buck swallows.

"Better?" he whispers.

Eddie nods. It is better. Proof of life, in the most basic of senses. The way Buck is looking at him, intent and knowingly fond in the shadowed living room, is better still.

"You want to talk about it?" Buck asks, still quiet.

Eddie shakes his head. "Tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"I'm sorry." He's not really checking Buck's pulse anymore. His hand shifts, flattens, until what he's doing is a lot more like cupping Buck's jaw the way he would, maybe, before leaning in for a kiss.

Buck's hand comes up to cover his, warm and steady. Alive, alive. "It's okay."

"No, just—it's late."

"Yeah. Still."

Eddie almost leans in. Almost. He's pretty sure at this point that Buck would let him. But they only get one first kiss, and he doesn't want it to taste like fear, even if that is fading now. He rubs his thumb against the edge of Buck's jaw, and suddenly finds that he can say the words after all. "Would you come back to bed with me tonight?"

Buck's smile takes on a mischievous tilt, and Eddie sighs. "Just to sleep."

"Sure."

"I mean it."

"Okay," Buck says. He squeezes Eddie's hand. "Yeah. Just to sleep, for now. But later…?"

Eddie swallows hard. Cards are already on the table. He's still cupping Buck's face like a lover would. It's too late to backtrack, and he doesn't actually want to anyway. "Later, yeah."

"Cool," Buck says, like a dork. His smile turns bashful, and he hesitates, then turns Eddie's hand to brush a light but definite kiss to the back of his knuckles. "I'm good with later."

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

I was reading the first part of "The Blanched Soldier" and helllllllp! I'm really tired and I doubt I can make a coherent analysis out of my thoughts - BUT it is so tempting to try and see if the story can be read as a Holmes/Watson analogy!

Holmes dropping not only the "The good Watson had at that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I can recall in our association" bomb which could be read as an ironic/humorous remark, but also the devastatingly plain and honest "I was alone" right afterwards.

Holmes then telling the story of a client moving heaven and earth looking for his soldier friend who disappeared, constantly stressing how close their friendship was.

ALSO during the flashback scene the client is, in the logic of the narrative, literally in the position of the detective, trying to find out what happened to his friend!

His search being hindered by an oppressive and stern father figure - something something about authority and control and societal norms (and perhaps Watson's marriage as a necessity because two bachelors living together for so long might be a bit suspicious in the eyes of the public)

"'You must put it down, sir, to my real love for your son.’" Whaaaaaat?? Putting aside the question whether or not one wants to read this story in a romantic way, this is a story about friendship and devotion and loss and oh my god just kill me, just give Holmes his friend back please

Client then has to have dinner with the parents which must be incredibly awkward, but instead of trying to make conversation he claims that he "was so bored by the whole proceeding that I made an excuse as soon as I decently could and retired to my bedroom". Bored?? Now I'm reading too much into it, but this also reminds me of Holmes who is NOT a fan of smalltalk and would rather sneak off to his bedroom to meditate over the clues than to make polite conversation with people he dislikes (although the mother seems to be okay)

On top of that a nice His Friendship and Courage Saved My Life *cough* Devil's Foot *cough* parallel: "There was no braver man in the regiment. He pulled me out once from under the rifles of the Boers, or maybe I should not be here." (Yes. Now I'm hopelessly overthinkink and overanalysing.)

Aaaand as a bonus, Holmes in the beginning practically admits that it was necessary for Watson to write his stories in a way Holmes often criticised, AND behind the whole charade of "I don't have a companion because I LIKE him" he literally says that "Watson has some remarkable characteristics of his own to which in his modesty he has given small attention amid his exaggerated estimates of my own performances", indicating that Watson downplayed his own role in the cases he wrote up.

I hope Watson returns soon, because his absence CLEARLY puts Holmes into an overly dramatic mood.

(I'm joking about this, but I actually feel very sorry for him. I can feel the "I was alone" keenly, because haven't we all been the best friend who was abandoned for a romantic partner at some point? Please tell me it wasn't just me. )