#besides! sex is only One show of physical affection

[lubdubology]

Take My Love and Wear It

SYNOPSIS: Taking care of Charles has its own special challenges, but you didn’t expect the hardest one to be the man who hired you. Distant, gruff and rough around the edges, Logan still manages to worm his way under your skin. But you’ve worked your way under his, too. 

PAIRING: Old Man Logan x fem!reader

WC: 10.8k 

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; swearing; non-explicit mentions of wounds, blood and use of stitches; extreme physical pain; Charles is a lovable, meddling little shit; fluff sprinkled in for good measure; Logan in a tub (if I had a nickel for every time I bathed him, I’d have two nickels—which isn’t a lot, but its weird it happened twice, right); touch-starved Logan; handjobs; shower sex; fingering; dirty talk; oral (f receiving); sex with feelings; unprotected p in v; creampie

A/N: There’s something special about Old Man Logan, isn’t there? Old and grumpy and desperately in need of some love and affection. I know the Charles caregiver story has been done before, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. And then Charles starting talking in my head and well...it blossomed into this. As always, thank you to @joelsgoldrush for allowing me to send her snippets of this as I went along and offering her love, support and suggestions. I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

You stare down at the remnants of yesterday’s cold and congealed dinner and sigh. Scraping the food into the trash, you resist the urge to pack everything you have and leave. 

One month. 

One month of helping Charles—making his meals, washing his clothes, giving him his meds, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself (or others), assisting with daily tasks—and Logan still regards you as a nuisance, like a gnat needing to be swatted away. 

At best, he ignores you, moving around the house as if you don’t exist. 

And at worst, he treats you with barely concealed contempt, his scowl deepening the lines of his face whenever he’s around you. As if you’re invading his space uninvited even though he’s the one that sought out help. 

You grip the edge of the sink, staring down into the porcelain basin as if it holds some hidden answers. Every day you’ve tried to break through walls Logan’s built around himself, held onto Charles’ promise that eventually he’ll soften, just give him time, but he only seems to have grown more hostile. And you’ve done nothing to incur his ire besides watching him come home every day battered and bruised, his very bones weary with exhaustion, and offering your assistance.

Part of you is angry—angry that you care so much when your main focus is supposed to be Charles. Angry that despite all his efforts to come across unapproachable and cold, Logan’s worked himself under your skin and takes a little piece of you with him whenever he leaves. 

Angry that somehow he’s stolen a piece of your heart. 

You hear shuffling behind you and turn to find Logan entering the kitchen, fingers fastening the last buttons on his dress shirt. “What?” he asks gruffly and for a moment you wonder if he can read your thoughts.

You straighten and meet his gaze head on, swallowing down your nervousness. “How much longer are we going to keep doing this, Logan?”

“Doing what?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between you. “You walking around here like I’m some stain upon your life, acting like I’m a problem when all I’ve ever done is try and help.” Your voice is steadier than you feel. “You asked for me to be here, Logan. It’s not like I barged in here without permission.”

Logan holds your gaze, his jaw tight, and for a moment you think he’s going to grab his keys and leave, head off into the night and drive until sunrise. His eyes soften for just a moment, something like regret crossing his features. 

“I know why you’re here. And I do…appreciate it,” he says, his words coming out low and rough. As if the words taste foreign in his mouth. 

“Wouldn’t kill you to show it,” you challenge.

You’re waiting for him to lash out and instead he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not good at this.”

“I’m not asking you to bow at my feet,” you say, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air. “Although, I wouldn’t be mad about it.” You think you see the briefest hint of a smile flicker across his face. “I just want us to be able to live in the same space. I’m here to help, Logan. Let me.”

“You have no idea how hard this life is.”

A rueful smile tugs at your lips. “I understand more than you think I do.”

Logan’s gaze sharpens, inquisitive as he searches your face, as if he’s trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. He rubs a hand across his face, scratching lightly as his beard. “I’ve gotta couple jobs tonight. Maybe more,” he finally says, changing the conversation. “Should be back before sunrise.”

You nod, his switch in topic not lost on you, but you don’t push him. “Alright,” you say softly. “Just—just take it easy, okay?”

He glances down at you, relief softening his gaze and you know a part of him is grateful you didn’t push further. 

Grabbing his keys, Logan heads towards the door but pauses just before he’s about to leave. He turns to look back over his shoulder. “Thanks,” he murmurs, the word awkward on his lips. 

You give him a small nod of encouragement as he slips out the door. He may not be ready to full open up, but you feel as if he extended a tiny olive branch tonight, cracked open the door just enough to let you peek in.

+++

Over the following weeks, Logan’s a little less avoidant. He doesn’t go out of his way to make conversation—you didn’t expect him to—but he at least as acknowledges your presence. Small nods and murmured goodbyes when he leaves and sleepy hellos when he returns. It’s not much, but you’ll take it. 

You’re cleaning the last of the dishes from dinner, Charles safely settled in front of the TV watching an old movie when Logan comes home. He’s earlier than you anticipated, but exhaustion lines his face nonetheless. You expect him to slip away quietly, but he pauses instead, lingering in the doorway. 

“Smells good,” he says softly, nodding towards the pan of half eaten lasagna still sitting on the counter. 

Surprised, you turn around to face him. You brush the hair from your face and say, “Sit. I’ll make you up some.” 

Logan hesitates and for a moment you think he’s about to decline, but then he nods, his shoulders dropping slightly as he sits down at the table. You fix him up a plate, setting it down in front of him with a bottle of beer as you slide into the chair across from him.  

He tucks quietly into the food, his fork scraping against his plate as he eats, pausing only to wash it down with a few swigs of beer. You watch him, a strange satisfaction tugging at you at the sight of him actually sitting down, enjoying a meal with you, even if it is in silence. 

“Long day?” you ask quietly, gesturing towards his bruised knuckles.

He flexes the fingers on his free hand before tucking them under the table. “Nothin’ I can’t handle,” he mutters, taking another bite of lasagna. “They’ll be gone in a day or two.”

You know not that long ago an injury like that wouldn’t have even marred his skin. Now, the simplest of wounds can take days to heal and it’s not the appearance of his skin that bothers you, but the newfound ache he experiences, the heaviness of constant pain.

You want to help him, ease his discomfort, like you know you could. But you know he’s not ready for that. Not yet.

“You’re good with Charles,” Logan says then, his gaze steady on his plate. “He seems calmer around you.”

Logan’s admission is so unexpected, you find yourself staring at him in disbelief. At your silence, his eyes flicker up to yours and you see more than simple acknowledgement in his expression. It’s subtle, but it’s there, a current of something more, something you’re not quite sure how to address.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice softer than you intended. “Charles—he means a lot to me.” You pause briefly, but something compels you to continue. “You both do.”

His gaze is focused on you and you don’t miss the flicker of surprise that breaks through his usual stoic expression. Clearing his throat, he looks down, pushing around the last bit of lasagna on his plate and then after a moment, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair. “You mean a lot to him, too,” Logan finally says and you wonder if he’s talking about more than just Charles.

From the living room you hear Charles call for you, his voice soft but insistent. The moment between you still crackles as you stand from the table and as you begin to walk away, Logan reaches for your hand. His fingers are warm and rough against your skin and you’re barely able to suppress your shiver. 

“Thank you,” Logan says, his voice surprisingly soft. 

His grip against your skin is gentle, a stark contrast to all his roughness and you can feel the weight of his unspoken words curling around you. Charles calls again, his voice breaking through the moment, but Logan’s hand lingers just a beat longer before he lets go, fingers trailing along your skin. 

+++

“He likes you, you know.”

You glance up from shaving Charles’ face and find him staring at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You give a soft hum. “Did he tell you that or did you read his mind?”

Charles scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. “What’s the difference, dear?” 

You chuckle, shaking your head as you rinse the razor. “With Logan I’m pretty sure there’s a big difference.”

“Bah, if Logan wanted to keep me out of his head, he would. Stubborn man.” He tsks softly to himself and shakes his head. “But, no my dear, he can be quite loud if you know how to listen.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Loud, huh? And what exactly is that brain of his telling you?”

Charles gives you a knowing smile. “Oh, just little things,” he says casually with a wave of his hand, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s holding back. “He notices you—what you do for me, this place, for him. He may not realize it himself, but his thoughts linger on you more often than he’d like.”

A flicker of hope sparks in your chest and despite yourself, you feel a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Logan doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type.”

“Logan has spent so much of his life running,” Charles continues, his tone and expression growing more thoughtful. “The loss he’s experienced has led him to believe it’s better to be alone than form meaningful connections with people. But you’ve somehow become something of a home for him. And he doesn’t quite know what to make of that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you take in his words. The idea of being a home for Logan, a comfort, feels surreal, and yet...there’s a part of you that dares to hope what Charles is saying is true. That this isn’t some fictional truth his brain has concocted, a product of his disease riddled mind. 

“Home.” You repeat the word softly to yourself, testing the word on your own tongue as if it might shatter into pieces.

Charles nods, his hand reaching for yours, his gaze warm and knowing. “Yes, home. He feels it, deep down, in a way that’s unfamiliar and frightening for him.”

You glance down at your hand in Charles’ grasp, his touch grounding you as his words settle over you. 

“Logan’s spent so long hiding from himself,” Charles continues. “I think he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve that kind of peace.”

“And you think I can give him that peace?” you ask quietly, your eyes flicking back up to Charles’ face.

He smiles knowingly and gives your hand a squeeze. “You already have, dear.”

+++

“Want some help?”

You turn to find Logan standing in the entrance of the kitchen, hands tucked into his pockets.

It’s a rare night—one where Logan’s chosen to stay home, taking a night off from the almost endless driving he does. He’s dressed down, well worn jeans and a button-up flannel, and for once you actually think he looks comfortable.

You smile, surprised, but happy to see him there. “Sure, the company would be nice,” you reply as he comes to stand next to you. “Want to wash and dice the potatoes?”

Logan nods and rolls up his sleeves before reaching for the bowl of potatoes you had set aside earlier. You watch him for a moment as he settles into the task with a quiet focus. 

“Smells good,” he comments, gesturing towards the oven. “What’re we having?”

“Charles has been asking for beef tenderloin for weeks now, so I’m finally indulging him.” You finish trimming the last of the green beans and toss them into the bowl beside you. “You know, if you have any favorite meals you’d like me to make, you can tell me.”

Logan pauses and glances at you as he shuts off the tap. He clears his throat and says, “You already are.”

You blink in surprise as Logan’s words sink in and then the realization dawns on you. A soft smile spreads across your face as you piece together the extent of Charles’ meddling. You can’t find it in you to be annoyed and only feel a mix of amusement and fondness towards the old man as you chuckle softly to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks, raising his eyebrow as he catches your expression.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, waving him off with a smile. 

Logan doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t pry as he picks up the knife and begins to deftly dice the potatoes. You watch him for a moment, captivated by the simple domesticity of the task. It’s in direct contrast to the man you’ve seen numerous times before, brooding and gruff, brimming with an almost untamed violence. 

It suits him, you think, this quieter version of himself.

You both finish the prep with relative ease. He helps you set the table as the rest of the food cooks, plates clinking softly as he sets them down. You busy yourself with finishing the green beans in a garlic butter as you wait for for the tenderloin to rest enough to carve into. 

“Ah, my dear, this smells wonderful,” Charles announces as he rolls into the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. “And you managed to pull Logan out of his room. What a treat.”

Logan snorts in response, giving Charles a pointed glare.

“I dare say it’s because the company has improved much as of late,” Charles says, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he glances between the both of you. “We all know he’s not out here for my benefit.”

You laugh as you bring the dishes to the table, noting the faintest of blushes creeping along Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Charles.”

“As you should, dear. Your personality is quite sparkling.” He looks over towards Logan. “Isn’t it, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes land on you as he answers, “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Dinner begins quietly, the three of you settling into easy conversation as the first few bites are consumed. Both Charles and Logan hum in delight and a warmth blooms within you watching them both. This—this is the simplicity you’ve been craving with Logan.

As the meal continues, Charles launches into his usual repertoire of stories, those of the school and his students, his words brimming with nostalgia and pride as he talks. Logan sits back in his chair, arms crossed as he listens to him speak, shaking his head fondly at some of the memories.

“You know,” Charles begins, setting his fork down with an air of mischief, “I don’t think I ever told you how I met Logan, have I?”

Logan’s head snaps up. “Don’t, Chuck.”

But Charles is already smiling at you, ignoring Logan’s warning. “It’s a good story, dear. See, Logan had quite the career as an underground cage fighter.”

You lift your brows in surprise and you glance over at Logan, who’s thoroughly unamused by Charles’ choice of topic. “Cage fighting, huh?” you ask, unable to suppress your curiosity. 

Logan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stabbing at his potatoes with a little more force than necessary. “It wasn’t a career,” he mutters. “Just a distraction. Way to get by.”

“Mmm, yes, perhaps,” Charles chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Regardless of the reason, it lead you to this exact moment. Didn’t it, Logan?”

Logan narrows his eyes at Charles, though the glare is only half-hearted. “You make it sound like all it all had some grand purpose.”

“Did it not?” Charles says gently, his tone shifting into something more serious. “Kept you alive, for one. But more than that, it brought you to us. To me.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes darting towards you. “To her.”

The words hang in the air and you glance over at Logan, whose expression softens just slightly. Without thinking, you reach across the table and give his forearm a gentle squeeze. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Charles watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction before clearing his throat. “Well, I believe my work here is done,” he announces, wheeling himself back from he table. “Logan, fancy a game of chess? I haven’t made a player out of her yet.”

You laugh to yourself as Logan follows Charles into the living room. After clearing the kitchen from dinner and loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, you join them both in the living room. Tucking yourself into the couch, you read while the two of them play, the clinking of wooden chess pieces and the occasional dry quip from Charles filling the room.

From your spot on the couch, you glance up from your book every now and then to watch them. Logan’s brow furrows in concentration, while Charles’ face is more relaxed as they play. You smile to yourself, wondering how often they played like this in the past, when times were simpler.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep or how long you’ve been out, but you’re jostled awake as two large, warm arms wrap around you, holding you close as you’re lifted off the couch. Logan’s familiar scent—cigar smoke and pine—fill your nose and you blink up to find him walking you down the hall towards your room.

“Logan?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. “D’you really cage fight?”

Logan chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I really did.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

You blink slowly, your sleep-laden mind struggling to process his answer. “Not even a little?” Your voice is barely audible as you nestle closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Not in the way you think,” he answers, nudging open the door to your room with his foot.

You’re too drowsy to ask what he means and instead you hum softly, a noncommittal sound that Logan feels more than hears. Lowering you onto the bed, he moves with a gentleness you’ve never felt from him before. He brushes a strand of hair from your face and pulls the blanket over you before he turns to leave.

Your limbs are heavy, eyes barely open, but you call out softly—“Logan?”

He looks back towards you. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad Charles found you,” you murmur, closing your eyes.

Logan doesn’t answer, but you swear you feel the lightest of kisses against the top of your head before he leaves.

+++

It’s deep into the night when you hear the front door finally open. Your heart flutters against your ribs as you swing out of bed, unsure of what condition you’ll find him in. He was expected back two days ago, those extra hours away feeling like an unfathomable eternity. 

You find him sitting at the kitchen table, dress shirt hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his clothes rumpled and bloodied. A large gash oozes from his shoulder and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips. 

Logan looks up at you, eyes narrowed and lined with exhaustion. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grunts, tugging off the rest of his shirt. 

“How else am I supposed to look at you?” you ask, taking a tentative step forward. “No phone call or text letting me know you’re not coming home and then you waltz in after midnight soaked in blood and covered in wounds.” Unshed tears burn in your eyes but you will yourself not to cry. 

“Didn’t ask you to care about me,” he bites back, but his tone is more weary than argumentative. 

“Oh, fuck you, Logan,” you snip, but your tone lacks venom.

He ignores you, pushing up from the chair with a heavy groan and limps over towards the cabinets. He shuffles through one of them, pulling out the makeshift sewing kit before sitting back down. You watch as he attempts to thread the needle, growing increasingly frustrated when he keeps missing. 

Shoving down your own frustration, you pull up a chair next to him and reach for the needle and thread. He pulls his hands away from you, turning in the chair to keep you away. You chase after his movements, finally grabbing his wrists and removing the supplies from his grasp.

“I don’t need your help,” he growls. 

You sigh, tired of this same argument, this same endless loop every time he comes home injured. “Goddamit, Logan, just let me help you.”

He drags his gaze up to yours, eyes tracing the lines of your face. His chest still heaves with heavy breaths, but you can see the anger bleed from him. He nods once, turning just enough so that you have access to his wound. Threading the needle, you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch he gives at your touch. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you whisper. 

Logan huffs. “It’s a needle, darlin’. It’s not gonna feel nice.”

You try to ignore the flip your heart does at his use of the word darling. Despite his earlier gruffness and proclivity to push you away, Logan has softened to you over the last couple of months. Since that first dinner you shared, he’s joined you and Charles more often. Or if he comes home late, sought out the leftovers you’ve kept for him. He’s engaged in conversation, offering small pieces of himself, pieces that you’ve cradled close and nurtured. 

But there’s a tension between you, thick and heavy in the air, and you wonder if he feels it too. Feels that same undeniable pull you’ve always felt in his presence. You’d like to think so, otherwise you were doomed to love him silently, your feelings for him bound in the quiet of your mind.

“Just trust me,” you say. 

Slowly, you release your power, warmth spreading from your fingertips, easing his pain and discomfort as you begin to stitch him up. You try to ignore the heavy press of his gaze on your face and you can almost hear his unspoken thoughts, his words still stuck on his tongue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his shoulder relaxing as you continue to work.

You glance up at him then, finding his expression softer than you’ve seen it. “A mutant is a dangerous thing to be, Logan,” you answer, your voice soft. “Few people know what I can do. Those I trust.”

For a long moment, Logan just looks at you, his eyes unreadable. Then, a rough, tired sigh falls from his lips. “You coulda told me.”

You take a steadying breath, his words lingering in the space between you. “Maybe,” you say, your fingers brushing against his skin as you continue to stitch. “But you don’t make it easy to talk to you.”

Logan lets out a low huff. “No. I guess I don’t, do I?”

You finish the last stitch, securing the knot. Your fingers linger a touch long than necessary, the warmth of his skin a comfort you’re loathe to lose just yet. Slowly, you lift your gaze to his and you feel your heart beat solidly against your ribs as he looks back at you like he’s seeing something there he hadn’t allowed himself to before. 

Logan’s voice is low when he finally speaks. “Why you keep stickin’ around? Watchin’ me come home time after time covered in blood?”

“Because you deserve it.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. “Even if you don’t see that.”

He doesn’t respond, not right away, as he continues to watch you, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. Then he reaches up for you, fingers curling around your wrist, his skin warm and rough against yours. He holds you there as if grounding himself in your presence, his thumb drawing random patterns against your skin. The gesture is simple, but vulnerable and open in a way he rarely shows.

“I’m no good for you,” he murmurs, glancing down at where he’s touching you. “For anybody.”

“How ‘bout you let me be the judge of that?” you answer, your voice steady. “You’re more than you think you are.”

Logan clenches his jaw, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features, and you know deep below the surface he’s waging a war against himself, one he’s been fighting for far too long. His thumb stills on your wrist, his grip loosening slightly, but not letting go. 

Placing your hand over his, you give him a soft smile. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

+++

You’re surprised that he doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to brush you off or push you away as you gently nudge him towards the bathroom. He still gives you a dubious glance as he looks down at the tub, but you just ignore it, moving past him to run the tap.

You give him privacy to undress and get settled before you reenter the bathroom. The sight of him, as large as he his with his knees pulled up to his chest, makes you laugh, garnishing a terse look from him.

“You find this amusing?”

“Big man in a little tub? Yeah, I do,” you reply with a smile. “Just relax, Logan. This’ll be our secret.”

He huffs, but does seem to visibly relax, resting his arms over his knees. You kneel down in front of him, resting one hand gently against his forearm as your other reaches for the washcloth. You can feel the tension release from his muscles as your power floods through him and he breathes out a soft, “Oh,” as all the pain and discomfort is eased from his body.

You wonder how long it’s truly been since he’s felt like this, unburdened by the pain and suffering of his own body. Your heart aches for him as you slowly begin to wash him, rubbing soft circles over the scarred flesh of his back, rinsing away the blood dried to his skin. 

Even battered and marred as he is, you still find him beautiful—you always have. When you first started working with him all those months ago, you felt that pang of attraction when you met him, you’d have been blind not to. Ruggedly handsome, so strong and sure of himself. But you know that wasn’t all that drew you to him. Deep down, below all the tough, seemingly impenetrable exterior, you saw the man he truly was. Someone born of scars and rough edges, yet gentle. Someone who would selflessly put himself before others, even at his own expense. 

You let the cloth linger a moment longer against his skin before dipping it back into the water, watching as his blood rinses from the fabric. Squeezing the excess water out, you press it back against his collarbone, tracing the warm cloth along his neck and over his shoulders. Logan doesn’t move, his eyes half-closed, his expression relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before.

Something deep tugs at you as you realize how vulnerable he is right now, how trusting. He hides behind a gruff exterior, his true self guarded so carefully so that he doesn’t let people in, doesn’t open himself up to the hurt that trusting another person can bring. But maybe you’ve finally cracked through, broken down a little bit of that wall he surrounds himself with.

The warm water drips from his skin as you continue to wash him, letting your fingers trail gently along the newly cleaned lines of his arms. Logan shivers at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he seems to lean into it, his breathing deepening, muscles falling even more slack. 

“Feel nice?” you ask in a murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, finally glancing up at you through his half-lidded gaze. “’S very nice,” he replies, his voice rough.

“Good. You deserve it,” you say, repeating your sentiment from earlier.

You feel a flicker of warmth as his eyes meet yours and he simply nods. It takes everything in you to not smile too widely, to keep the moment gentle, but you take his acceptance to heart. 

Running the cloth down his ribs, you pause when you feel the misshapen knot of a bruise beneath your fingers and glancing down, you find a deep purple hue coloring his skin. Your eyes dart to his with worry, knowing that an injury like that will take him at least a week to heal, if not longer, in his weakened state. That with every breath he’ll feel the pain of his muscles pulling and the bruise spreading if you’re not touching him.

Dropping the washcloth in the water, you press your palm against his side and take in a deep breath to steady yourself. Then, a warmth spreads from your skin into his as you pull his injury from him, feeling his skin knit back together, feeling his abused muscles realign themselves under his skin. A dull, yet sharp ache, blooms along your ribs as you continue to pull his pain into yourself, erasing the injury from his body. With a final gasp, you draw back, your fingers now running along unmarred flesh knitted whole. 

Logan tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze as the back of his knuckles brush against your cheek. His eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze, and for a moment, the room falls into a deep quiet.

That pull between you, the magnetic force that you’ve felt since the beginning, feels amplified now. You’re acutely aware of every inch of space between you—how small it is, how easy it would be to close it. How badly you want to close it. You swallow, feeling the tension coil in your belly as he continues to hold your gaze, unblinking, but more open and raw than he’s ever been before.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat at his question, voice rough and laced with something between wonder and disbelief. As if he can’t quite fathom what you’ve done for him—what you’ve given him so freely.

Logan’s eyes search yours, his fingers drifting from your cheek to trace along your jaw, lingering with a tenderness that belies the man he presents to the outside world. His gaze is steady and intimate, as if he’s trying to understand you in a way that goes beyond words. But you say nothing, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears to form a reply.

“You took it on yourself, my pain?”

You simply nod, distracted by the way Logan’s fingers continue to brush along the edge of your ear, tracing the lines of your face as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. 

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” you whisper, unable to resist the pull of his hand against your skin, the warmth of his touch that you feel with every fiber of your being. “Because it’s the one thing I can do to help you.”

A beat of silence passes, the air thick and heavy with unspoken words. He exhales, shaky and deep, letting his hand slide to the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his fingers press gently against your skin, anchoring you in place and you can feel him pull you closer, his gaze dropping to your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the small, intimate space between you.

“I shouldn’t want this, want you,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a rumble. “But, fuck, I do.” 

His confession is raw, leaving him unguarded for the first time in a long time and before he can pull back, before he can throw those walls back up around himself, you close the gap, resting your forehead against his. You bring your hand up to touch his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as you breath him in, feeling the heat radiate between you. 

Logan’s hand slides further along your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he finally, gently, presses his lips to yours. His kiss isn’t demanding or rushed or filled with passion, but a lingering connection, the promise of something more. His lips are softer than you imagined, his touch more careful than you expected, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. Slowly, his thumb traces circles against your cheek, steadying and soothing, pulling you closer. 

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. His breath is warm against your skin. “I don’t wanna push you away anymore,” he murmurs.

“Good because I don’t want you to.”

Logan lets out a breath, a hint of a smile finally softening his features. 

Reluctantly, you pull away and pick the washcloth up again, intent on finishing what you started. The water turns to rust as you wash him of blood and grime, making sure you reach each cut, each bruise, each scar on his body that makes up the map of who he is. 

You turn off the tap and hand him a towel, averting your eyes as he stands, wrapping the towel low across his hips. Logan reaches for you, tugging on the collar of your shirt to pull you closer. You stumble a bit as he pulls you in, surprised by the insistence in his grip. Logan’s eyes meet yours, an intensity behind his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, hand slipping along your jaw, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. 

You’re drawn forward as Logan’s lips find yours again, but this time there’s an urgency behind the kiss, a desperation and need he’s no longer trying to hide. He holds your face gently in his hands as he deepens the kiss, his nose pressing against yours, his beard scraping against your skin and you find yourself melting against him.

This is what you’ve been craving since you met him. Despite it all—the rage simmering just below his surface, the sharpness of his exterior, the sometimes shocking callousness of his words—you always knew there was a tenderness underneath, a softness that even his tortured past couldn’t erase. 

Logan’s hands drift from your face, trailing down your neck and tracing along the curve of your spine as he presses you closer until there’s no space between you. The dampness of his skin bleeds into your shirt and you gasp into his mouth when he shifts his hips just enough and you feel heat of his erection against your thigh.

He pulls away from your mouth long enough to husk against your lips, “I’m old, not dead.” His teeth nip lightly at your bottom lip. “I’ve gotta beautiful woman lettin’ me kiss her, what did you expect?”

Your fingers trail along the edge of the towel slung low across this hips and a thrill runs through you as you feel his abdominal muscles flutter beneath your touch. You peer up at him, noting the flush of his skin, the black of his eyes as you tug the fabric just enough to loosen it. “How long has it been since someone has touched you, Logan?” you ask, your breath warm in the space between you.

Logan’s hands urge your hips closer, seeking friction as he starts to slowly rut against your thigh. You hear him swallow as your fingers dip below the fabric, brushing along the damp hair at the base of his cock. 

“F—fuck,” he groans, guttural and low, his head dropping down to your shoulder. “Since before you.”

The weight of Logan’s confession presses into you and in that moment you want to give him everything. Wrap him in all the love you can muster, show him something other than pain and suffering. 

You move your hand from the towel, allowing the fabric to fall from his waist and pool forgotten on the floor. Logan’s breath catches as your fingers wrap around him fully, the heat and weight of his cock pressing against your palm. 

A ragged groan escapes his throat. “Christ,” he mutters, voice thick and vibrating against your skin. “You don’t gotta—”

“I want to,” you interrupt, slowly and deliberately dragging your hand along his length, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock with your fingertips.

Logan’s hips jerk involuntarily, seeking friction, chasing your hand, and you oblige, tightening your grip just enough to elicit another groan from him. 

“What do you like?” The question lands in the sliver of space between you, your strokes still light, teasing.

“Firmer, more ah—” He breaks off as you tighten your grip on the upstroke. “Fuck, yes, like that, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs down your spine as his hands find your waist, fingers clutching at you almost hard enough to bruise. His breaths are growing uneven, each exhale warm against your neck as he fights to maintain some semblance of control.

“You keep that up,” he rasps, lips grazing your ear, “and I’m not gonna last long.”

His admission sends a rush of pride through you and you tilt your head back to look at him, your thumb brushing over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the wetness there. Logan’s eyes meet yours, dark and heavy-lidded, his expression raw and unguarded. You like him like this, such a large, imposing man boiled down to pure wanton need. 

“I don’t mind,” you reply, keeping your movements steady, your strokes firm yet gentle. You focus on the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his fingers grip you tighter each time you find the right rhythm. “Just wanna make you feel good, Logan.”

He leans forward, capturing your lips into a kiss that’s both rough and messy, teeth nipping at your lip as his tongue licks into your mouth. He groans are muffled against your mouth as his hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes, his movements growing more erratic as he chases after his release. 

“Can’t believe—ah, fuck—can’t believe how good you’re makin’ me feel,” he growls against your lips.

You smile into his mouth, your free hand brushing along his hipbone as your strokes quicken. His whole body tenses, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing, his abdominal muscles taut as he teeters on the edge.

“Let go, Logan,” you say. “I’ve got you.”

With a strangled groan, he comes, his release spilling over your hand, hot and thick. His body shudders against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him close as he continues to thrust lazily into your grip, your own movements slowing as you guide him through the aftershocks. 

For a moment, neither of you speaks, then Logan lifts his head, his hazel eyes soft as they meet yours. “You walked into my life and I knew—I knew—you would ruin me.”

You smile to yourself, unable to stop the thought that floats into your head—he’s ruined you as well. 

+++

The text comes in at a little over one AM—hurt.

You jump out of bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you slip into one of his discarded flannels and head out into the night. Pacing the driveway, your heart jumps into your throat at every passing headlight, your thumbnail almost bitten down to the quick as you wait for him.

The minutes bleed into eternity until you finally see the limo turn down the long drive and it takes all your willpower to not run and meet him halfway. You’re bouncing on your heels as he finally comes to a stop, the driver’s side door opening with a faint groan of steel. 

Your heart stutters in your chest as he emerges from the car, blood soaking through his shirt, dark and spreading, as he steps towards you on shaky legs. Logan’s face is pale in the moonlight, his breathing uneven and shallow and white-hot dread shoots up your spine as you see his arm hanging limp, two of his claws unsheathed and dripping blood.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” you gasp, rushing to his side.

Logan tries to wave you off, gritting his teeth as he grips the doorframe. “”M fine,” he grits, but the tremor in his voice betrays him. 

You reach for him, hands already attempting to steady him as his knees buckle and he collapses to the ground beneath him. “Careful. Claws,” he rasps as his left hand seeks purchase against your shoulder.

“I don’t fucking care about your claws, Logan,” you snap, although you both know your anger isn’t at him. You glance up at him and for once you think you actually see fear in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Gas. Robbery.” Each word punches out of his chest, the effort to speak sending tremors down his limbs. “Got ‘em.” He nods down towards his limp arm, claws still unsheathed, but slowly, so slowly starting to retract.

He winces as you help him peel off his coat to get to the shirt underneath. Your fingers shake as they trace the holes the bullets made—one in his shoulder, dangerously close to his lungs and the other just below his ribs. Hooking your fingers through the fabric, you rip it from his chest—the wounds are deep and his skin is hot and slick with sweat.

Panic claws at you and unshed tears burn in your eyes. You’ve seen Logan hurt before, but this—this was different. His breathing is painfully shallow, his usual gruffness and resilience absent. 

“Logan, you’re not healing,” you whisper, your voice shaking as your fingers stain with blood. Logan simply grunts, trying to wave you off, but lacking the strength. “I can’t…I can’t lose you. I can help.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he grabs for your wrist. “No. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care!” you shout. “I love you, dammit, and I’m not just going to sit here and watch you die!”

Before he can protest, you press your palms over his wounds, the familiar warmth of your power surging through you as it spreads from your palms into his torn flesh.

The pain hits you like a freight train.

It’s sharp and relentless, searing through your shoulder and into the softness of your belly like molten fire. You gasp, biting back a scream as your body jerks instinctively away from the intensity, every cell in your body demanding you withdraw from the torture. 

But you don’t stop. You cling to him, tears streaming down your face as you channel your power into him, knitting his flesh back together. You can feel it, the way his muscles, bones and tissue rearrange themselves, months of healing taking place in mere moments. Every second feels like an eternity, but you refuse to let go.

You’re dimly aware of Logan yelling at you to stop, his own pain momentarily forgotten as he watches you endure his agony. 

Black dots dance in your vision as the last of his wounds come together, the spent bullets clinking to the gravel and you finally collapse against him, trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The fire in your body begins to dull, fading to a cold, hollow ache as Logan wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Hey,” you mumble against him, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay now.”

“Me?” Logan’s voice is low, disbelieving as his hand cradles the back of your head as if you might shatter. “You’re the one—why the fuck would you do that? You could’ve—dammit, you—”

His words break off, his forehead dropping to yours as his breath shudders against your cheek. You can feel the tension radiating through him, warring with himself between his gratitude and anger, between his guilt and the love he’s too afraid to speak out loud.

“I told you why,” you answer, lifting your head to look up at him. 

Logan’s jaw clenches, his words caught in his throat, but his eyes say everything is voice won’t. You don’t need him to say it, not yet, but you can feel it, pressing just below the surface.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

+++

There’s a reverence in which Logan washes you. 

Steam swirls around you as he works the thickly lathered loofah over your shoulders, down across your collarbones and down along the soft planes of your stomach. The water rinses away the faint metallic tang of blood, leaving behind the fresh scent of soap. He continues with a silent determination, as if the act of washing you can erase all the pain you’ve taken from him.

You know better than to convince him you’re fine, that the pain is always temporary, that it only lasts for a few minutes, sometimes just a bit longer. That the pain is something you’d endure for him again and again if he’d let you. 

His thumb brushes along the underside of your ribs, searching for a wound you know he won’t find. You reach for him, lacing your fingers together with his. He blinks up at you, hazel eyes holding far too much worry for such a stoic man.

“I’m not going to break, Logan,” you say softly.

A wordless noice escapes his throat as he removes himself from your grasp and continues to work, ditching the loofah in favor of his hands. His fingers are warm and calloused against your skin as they glide lower, down over the swell of your hips, over your thighs, down towards your knees. 

His touch morphs from one of care and comfort to one more sensual, simmering with unspoken tension as his fingers rest in the hollow behind your knee. You glance down at him, water droplets catching in his hair, running off the slope of his nose. 

Though you’ve seen him bare before, you can help but trace the lines of his body—the broadness of his shoulders, the well defined muscles of his chest, the sturdiness of his thighs, the scars that mar his skin. The sight of him stirs something deep within you and you feel your pulse thrum beneath your skin.

“Logan,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the sound of the water.

He looks up at you then, eyes locking with yours. A storm swirls within them, a mix of guilt, affection and an intensity that takes your breath away. Leaning in, he presses the barest of kisses to the inside of your knee before he rises to his full height, pressing you close.

“D’you mean what you said before?” he asks, voice low.

I love you, dammit!

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation.

Logan exhales sharply, the tension he’s been holding coiled in his muscles loosening as he loops his arms around your waist. “I’m not very good with words,” he admits, his breath fanning across your damp skin. “Can I show you?”

There’s no mistaking the meaning behind his words and you can only nod, your voice catching in your throat. 

His lips find yours, mouth moving over yours slow and deliberate as if he’s savoring the taste of you. The first touch is a spark, the second a fire, and by the third, it’s an inferno that engulfs you both and leaves you breathless. Logan kisses you like you’re his anchor, his salvation, his touch desperate and full of everything he can’t yet put into words.

Your fingers slide into his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed in the space between you. His tongue brushes against yours, teasing and exploring and you respond in kind, your nails scraping along his scalp.

Logan’s control is fraying. You can feel it in the way his teeth nip at your bottom lip, the way his hands press along the curve of your spine, the way he can’t seem to find enough of your skin to touch, to caress. A low growl rumbles through his chest as you slip a hand between your slick bodies, finding his cock, thick and heavy against your belly.

You give one slow drag of your palm along his length before he’s gripping your thighs and forcing your legs around his waist. His mouth leaves yours, trailing down to the curve of your jaw as he presses you against the wall, the coolness of the tile a direct contrast to the heat of your skin and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. 

Despite his age, the metal bones inside him slowly poisoning him and causing him human aches and pains, he’s still able to hold you up solidly with one arm as the other trails along your hip bone and dips down to where you’re warm and wet. 

“This all for me?” he asks in a murmur, sliding a finger along the seam of your cunt, just barely brushing against your clit. 

Your breath hitches and you grip his shoulders, nails pressing lightly into his skin as you nod. Logan’s eyes darken at your reaction, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” you finally manage to whisper. “Always for you.”

“Good,” he growls, leaning in to nip at the skin just below your ear. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through you, his touch deliberate and almost torturously slow as he slides his fingers through your folds, spreading your slickness with a focused and unrelenting precision. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head tilting back against the wall as he finally presses his thumb to your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to have your thighs trembling around his waist. 

“I got you,” he coos against your skin, his lips trailing from the pulse point in your neck to your collarbone. His teeth scrape along the curve of your shoulder, his free hand gripping your hip tighter to steady you as his fingers continue to tease and coax. “Lemme make you feel good.”

Every nerve ending is afire beneath him, every motion, every stroke of his fingers against your cunt leaving your mind reeling with pleasure. Your nails dig further into corded muscles of his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor yourself to. You pull back when you see the tiny, crescent shaped cuts marring his skin.

His eyes snap up to yours, sharp and molten. “No, do it,” he urges, fingers still moving. “Mark me with somethin’ pretty.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp. 

“Say my name again,” he demands, his voice rough and commanding. There’s a quiet desperation in his tone, as if hearing it grounds him. Grounds him to this moment. To you. 

You can’t help but obey, whispering his name like a prayer, and he rewards you by slipping one long finger inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure along your spine. Logan watches your face intently as if memorizing the way you react to his touch. When he adds a second finger and slowly begins to thrust his hand, you cling further to him, the heat inside you building to an almost unbearable intensity.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. “You’re so beautiful like this. So wet and warm and tight around me.”

His words barely register in your mind, too focused on the way his fingers curl and thrust inside you, finding that soft spot that makes your eyes roll back. He’s relentless now, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“Logan, I’m so close,” you whine, your hips beginning to roll against his hand, seeking just a bit more friction, forcing his fingers deeper inside of you.

The tension coiling low in your belly finally snaps, your orgasm washing over you in waves that make your whole body shudder as you cry out his name. Logan holds you through it, his hand continuing to thrust against you as he draws out every ounce of pleasure from you, his own breathing ragged against your skin.

When you finally come down, Logan presses a kiss to your temple as he helps you unwrap your legs from his waist and carefully sets you down, keeping you close. 

You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I didn’t think you’d be into shower sex, old man,” you tease with a smile.

His laugh is low. “I can make exceptions. I need a bed to fuck you properly, though.” 

“Prove it,” you challenge.

+++

The heat and intensity between you doesn’t diminish as Logan helps you out of the shower and guides you down the hallway towards his bedroom. A shiver of anticipation crawls up your spine as you get closer, knowing that once you cross this line, there’s no going back, that he will have claimed you fully.

You scoot back onto the bed, watching as he approaches you with a fire in his gaze that doesn’t waver. He climbs onto the mattress, knee pressing down between yours as he cages you in from above, gently pinning you beneath him. 

Leaning down, his lips brush against yours, teasing. “Still wanna challenge me, sweetheart?” His voice is a low gravelly growl that sends a prickling rush of arousal down your limbs.

“Always,” you reply breathlessly, arching into his touch as his hands slide down your thighs, parting them with ease. 

His grin is sharp as he leans back to take you in fully and you acutely feel the weight of his gaze against your skin. He traces his calloused fingers over your damp skin, along the dips of your collarbones, under the swell of each breast, mapping the curve of your hips as if committing you to memory. Dipping his head, he leans down between your legs, his beard grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you can’t help but shudder at the sensation.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he says, almost to himself, his voice dripping with desire. He drags his lips higher, brushing along your damp cunt, his breath hot and tantalizing. “And all mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone has you clenching around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly and your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer. But he ignores your silent plea, almost deliberately testing your patience as he kisses you everywhere except where you want him most.

“Logan, please,” you gasp, the ache between your thighs almost painful.

“Patience,” he chides with a smirk, though his own resolve seems to be thinning. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer before he flattens his palms against your thighs, opening you fully to him. Then, his tongue is on you, lapping at you with flat, broad strokes in a rhythm that quickly has you teetering on the edge.

Logan’s focus is unrelenting, his low growls of approval vibrating through you as he works you over with an enthusiasm that proves to you this is about more than just pleasure—he’s claiming you, showing you just how much you mean to him. Making you his. 

Your thighs tremble around him and his warm, rough hands hold you steady as he slips one, then two fingers deep inside of you. It’s embarrassing how quickly you come as he thrusts his fingers against that spot inside you, your second orgasm of the night crashing over you as his name falls from his lips in a breathless moan. 

Before you can properly catch your breath, Logan is moving from between your thighs, making his way back up your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. His lips finally find yours in a kiss that’s messy and desperate and you can taste yourself on his tongue, sharp and bright, and the intimacy of it sends a thrill through you. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he groans against your lips, his voice wrecked as he grinds his hips against yours, his cock hard and insistent against your hip. “Could spend the rest of my life between between those thighs.”

“Why stop there?” you tease, your lips tugging into a smirk. “I thought you said you’d fuck me properly.”

Logan’s eyes darken, your challenge seeming to light something dark and primal in him. His grin is all teeth as he sits back on his heels, hands curling around your hips and pulling you down the bed like you weigh nothing until your hips are flush with his. “You gotta mouth on you, sweetheart. Should we see if you can still talk stuffed full of my cock?”

The weight of his cock brushes against your slick folds and you gasp at the sensation, your nerve endings exquisitely sensitive. Logan grips himself at the base, giving himself one languid stroke before running the thick head along your cunt, teasing you with shallow thrusts. Each slow, deliberate stroke of him sliding against you leaves you desperate and aching and you lift your hips in search of more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So needy. Bet you’ll take me so well, huh?”

“Yes,” you breathe, nails digging into the muscles of his forearms. “Please.”

He presses into you then, the stretch of his cock making your jaw drop as he takes his time, sinking in inch by inch, filling you completely. Logan’s gaze is locked on yours, heavy and possessive as he watches every flicker of pleasure cross your face. 

“Fuck” he groans when he’s fully seated against your hips, his body trembling with the effort to stay still. “You feel…so fuckin’ tight. So damn perfect.”

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as he starts to move, pulling out torturously slow before thrusting back in harder, setting a rhythm that’s relentless and consuming. Each stroke of his hips has you crying out, your body arching into his as you meet him thrust for thrust.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart,” he growls, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise as he continues to pound into you. “Like you were made for me.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing in with your whimpered moans and Logans own ragged groans. He leans down, bracing himself on his forearms, the wiry hair on his chest teasing your nipples as his lips find your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin that feel like promises.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper, your heels digging into his back as the coil inside you begins to tighten once more. He feels it too, the way you body clenches around him, and his pace falters slightly, his breaths coming faster.

“C’mon,” he rasps against the pulse point on your neck. “Wanna feel you come. Wanna make you fall apart.”

It doesn’t take much more—just a few more well-angled thrusts that hit that spot inside you and the tension finally snaps, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling. Logan’s finesse is slipping, thrusts growing erratic as chases his own release.

“Come Logan,” you manage in a whisper. “Come for me.”

His hips stutter as he groans your name, spilling into you as his body tenses, lazily thrusting against you as he wrings out the last of his pleasure. He stays deep inside you, still for several moments before he shifts just enough to collapse against your side.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breathes and the pounding of your heart. Logan rests his head against your chest, heavy and sweat slick between your breasts. You brush at the strands of hair against his forehead before running your finger along the old scar on his cheek.

He lifts his head to look up at you, his gaze soft yet still simmering with hunger. “I do, you know,” he murmurs. His fingers brush idly against your skin. “Love you.”

A smile spreads across your face, warming blooming in your chest.

“I know.”

+++

You wake before he does, rolling over to find him prone, face buried in the pillow he hugs close to his chest. Sunlight filters in through the half slatted blinds, catching on the silver in his hair and beard and you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks, how at peace he is beside you. He’s relaxed in sleep for the first time since you came here. You’ve heard his growls and yelps of terror that echo in the night, seen the claw marks that pierce his sheets.

Your mind filters back to last night and how he looked as he came apart inside you, how desperate and needy he was for your touch upon his skin. The memory of his gasps and groans send a rush of warmth over your skin, making you dimly aware of the ache between your legs. Logan, so guarded, so unyielding and seemingly unbreakable, trembled as he came, his voice rough and wrecked as he called out your name. You shiver thinking about it.

You want to hear it again. But not now.

Resisting the urge to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead, you leave him undisturbed and slide out of bed. Padding into the kitchen, you find Charles sitting in his chair at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He looks up at you with a warm smile as you start a pot of coffee, the machine humming to life. 

“Ah, I see,” he comments, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You glance over at Charles, his eyes back on the paper in front of him, but his smile still paints his face, sly and knowing. Heat creeps up your neck as you busy yourself with the coffee. “Are you reading my mind?” you ask, trying to force nonchalance into your tone.

Charles chuckles softly and taps at his temple. “I don’t have to. You’re projecting. And quite loudly, at that.”

You bite your lip as you fill your mug, leaning against the counter as the coffee warms your hands. You attempt to clear your mind, trying to think of anything mundane—the weather, baseball, laundry. Charles just shakes his head. “Relax, my dear. What the two of you do together as consenting adults is none of my business.”

“Oh, God,” you groan, your cheeks aflame. “That’s what I’m projecting?”

“Not that explicitly, no. You think more in feelings, rather than words. But they’re quite powerful emotions and rather hard to ignore when they’re radiating as strongly as yours are this morning.”

You bury your face in your hand, peeking at Charles through your fingers, which only seems to amuse him further. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” you mutter. 

“Perhaps,” Charles says with a laugh. “But you’re helping him. Healing him. And that, my dear, is worth everything.” 

Before you can respond, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Logan rounds the corner, hair tousled from sleep, his body still bare except for the pair of low slung sweatpants clinging to his hips. His eyes find yours first, softening in a way they rarely do for anyone else as he scratches at the back of his head and mumbles, “Mornin’.”

“Morning,” you reply with a smile, thankful for the distraction. You pour a second cup of coffee and offer it up to him. “Coffee?”

Logan grunts in affirmation, moving towards you, but instead of reaching for the mug, he loops an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. He buries his face in your neck, beard scraping against your skin as he sighs. “Didn’t like wakin’ up with you not there,” he breathes into your hair, his voice so low you almost don’t hear him.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“S’okay,” he says softly, pressing the lightest of kisses just under your ear. “Next time, wake me.”

Your heart stutters against your ribs at his open display of affection, the softness and warmth in which he holds you, and the promise behind his words. From over his shoulder you see Charles give you a slight nod, a bright smile on his face before he turns his attention back to the newspaper in front of him.

You think back to what Charles told you all those months ago, about how you were a home for Logan. Those words echo in your mind as you feel Logan’s steady weight against you. He’s so different now, soft and unguarded and in that moment you know.

You’re home, too.

[moonknightsonata]

Acts of Service

pairing: moon system x reader, marc x reader centered

summary: You learn Steven and Jake’s love languages quickly, Marc’s takes a little longer to realize but it doesn’t surprise you.

cw: not many, a brief non-explicit mention of sex, Marc getting anxious about your relationship

wc: 1199

a/n: Happy new year! This is not beta read, my first time writing for the moon boys and also my first time posting and sharing a fic in probably like 5+ years. Please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings, and let me know what you think! I tried keeping the reader as inclusive as I could, but please let me know if I slipped up with anything.

—

When you first started seeing the system, they all showed affection in similar ways. Holding hands, chaste kisses, flowers at the start of dates and walking you home at the end of them. They each had their own ways of going about it, but at the start all 3 of them were stereotypical in their affection.

Now, months later, you could easily tell each of the boy’s love languages.

Steven fluttered between quality time and words of affirmation. He was a romantic at heart, so in reality, he would do anything you asked of him, really. But you could tell he was happiest just being near you, telling you how much he loved you, and hearing the words in return.

Date night with Steven would be art galleries, museum tours, site seeing, or just walking around the markets hand in hand. Cafe’s and bookshops for rainy days, which there were plenty of in London, filled weekends with him where you could just sit in each other’s company and read besides one another.

Jake was the master of physical touch. You think it’s because he didn’t have as much time fronting as the other two, and his only physical touch with humans up until the three started getting along was when he took over the body in emergencies like in Cairo. When Jake was fronting, his hands were always on you.

Jake always had his arm on you when in public. Around your shoulder, or on your waist, he didn’t have a preference as long as he had you in his arm in some way. You liked to compare him to a livestock dog. Not like sheepdogs who herded them, but like a pyrenees that would fight a wolf off a lamb.

He was also the most handsy in the bedroom.

Marc took the longest to pinpoint his love language. Mostly due to the fact that he was the last to open up to a relationship with you.

You had met Steven first, dated Steven first, and then met Jake and Marc along the way. The relationship with Jake blossomed easily, but Marc still had walls he had built standing steady, that he wasn’t ready to break down yet. For a while even, you weren’t sure he liked you. After anxieties about it were aired out, Marc reassured you he did like you, he was “just shit at showing it” as he had put it. He hadn’t wanted to get close, mess things up with you and risk everything Steven and Jake had with you. That was the turning point for you and Marc’s relationship.

You thought it was behind you, until you noticed Marc’s odd behavior one day.

“Marc, baby, are you alright?” You asked him, leaning against the kitchen counter as he washed dishes.

“Hm?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, nodding as he kept his attention mostly on the pan he was scrubbing. “Yea, fine, why’d you ask?”

“Because you’ve been scrubbing that pan for about 10 minutes now. I think it’s clean.” You smiled softly, as his brow scrunched when he realized.

“Fine… yeah. I just… you know I love you?” He finished his sentence more like a question.

“Of course I know. I love you too.” You moved closer to him, putting a hand on his cheek to look him in the eyes. “What brought this about?”

“I don’t… I don’t say it enough. When we met you weren’t even sure I liked you, and now I don’t even say I love you as often as Jake or Steven do. So I just…” Marc lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand to his hair, pushing his curls out of his face as he steps away from you. You give him his space, you know when he needs it. To work out emotions without feeling suffocated or closed in.

“Just thought maybe you weren’t sure again.”

Marc avoids looking directly at your face as you look at his. You understand him, more than you probably know, which scares Marc. Not in a bad way, but scares him in a way he can’t believe there was someone out there who could.

Which is why what you say shouldn’t surprise him, but it does anyway.

“You don’t have to say it in the same way Steven or Jake do for me to know.” You start softly. “You have a different way of showing it, than they do.”

Marc’s eyebrows furrow, even more than the wrinkled brow he usually has.

He can only describe the look on your face that you give him as adoring, as you continue.

“The days that you front, you’re always up before me. Whether you’re an early riser or you never really fell asleep that night - you know exactly how to make my coffee in the morning and I always wake up to a cup made the way I like sitting on the counter waiting for me.

“I also know that it isn’t Jake who had my car’s oil changed, or the tires rotated a couple weeks ago.”

Marc shrugs at that one, mumbles something that you think is “That’s not a big deal.”

As you tell him all this, you can’t believe it took you this long to realize that Marc’s love language was acts of service. Because of course it was. Marc, the giver. Marc, who always felt he needed to prove his worth and make up for sins of his past, by any means necessary. Your Marc, who did so much for you without expecting a ‘thank you’ because that was how he showed he cared.

You kept going with more examples.

“Last week I forgot my umbrella and my lunch in the apartment and you came all the way to my job to drop them off for me.” You wrap your arms around Marc’s waist at this, resting your head against him in a hug.

“Or, when it’s cold, you always turn my heated blanket on the bed while I’m doing my night time routine, so that the bed is nice and warm by the time I climb in. And when -“ You could keep going, listing the things you notice Marc does for you, but he stops you with flushed cheeks.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I do a lot for you.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully as he wraps his arms around you to return the hug. “I like taking care of you.”

“You take care of me because you love me.”

Marc nods, kissing your forehead. “Yeah, I do. I’m just sorry I don’t say it more.”

“I don’t need you to. It’s nice to hear, but I still know it. You show me every day.” You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss, which Marc gratefully returns.

“And I’ll continue to show you every day, until you get tired of me.”

“I’d never get tired of you, baby. You, Jake and Steven are all stuck with me.”

Marc laughs. “Stuck with you? Making it sound like that’s a bad thing. Honey, I think you’re the one ‘stuck’ with the three of us.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[von2dutch]

Sugar baby | Jey Uso

Chapter three

Synopsis: Sex is not a big deal. ...You can have a no-strings-attached arrangement with someone you don’t care about.

Pairing: Jey uso X Black Fem reader | word count: 2.1k | warning: smut, toxic behavior , protected sex | 18+ ONLY

Series master list

Tag list

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@blacst4r

@paigereeder

@whatdoeseverybodywant

@empressdede

@superpietom

@bebesobrielo

@solefae

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If anyone doesn’t want to be tagged anymore please let me know!

Lastly, Enjoy.

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As the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon inside Jey’s hotel room , a chorus of birds greeted the dawn with a symphony of chirps and songs. The melodic sound filled the air, announcing the arrival of a fresh day full of possibilities.

The calm and tranquil feeling in the bedroom is one of comfort and safety, as if the world is at peace. With Dakota by his side of course.

Joshua slowly opened his eyes to a warm and radiant morning light filtering through the window.

As Jey looked over at Dakota, he saw her sleeping peacefully beside him. He couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth in his heart as he watched her snuggled up against his chest, her arms wrapped around him tightly. The moment felt serene, and he took a deep breath, savoring it. He couldn't help but admire Dakota's beauty in that moment, as the soft glow of the moon illuminated her features and added an ethereal quality to the scene. It was a simple yet beautiful moment that he would always cherish.

He gently pulled her close with his arm, and planting soft kisses all over her face and neck, waking her up slowly but lovingly.

Jey had felt horrible about how he treated Dakota especially what he said to her a couple weeks ago when discussing being with her more than just a client.

He initially took in what his brother was saying and realized he loved Dakota not just what she did for him sexually but what she did for him mentally and physically because as much as he was there for her in those needs she was also there in those needs of his. With him being on the road 25/7 it sometimes gets lonely and sad but she always made sure to brighten his day even when she didn’t know she did.

His affection for her was not just a fleeting infatuation. It was a profound feeling that surpassed any previous experience he had ever had. This love penetrated through the depths of his heart and soul, and he had never felt anything like it before. He was completely consumed by her, and she had become the center of his whole universe. In his life, she was the beacon of hope that illuminated his path through even the darkest of times.

She's got him wrapped around her little finger, and he'd do anything to see her smile. He just needed to show her more than tell her and he was going staring today.

“Mmm Josh stop.” Dakota groaned moving her face away to stop the kisses he repeatedly left on her cheeks.

Chuckling he kissed her exposed neck annoying her even more “Ko baby get up I’m bored and I miss you.”

Opening her eyes staring back at his brown precious big eyes she could almlsh Melt into them but at moment all she felt was her love fading away from him because like he said she was just a client. “Josh don’t think cause we had sex last night that every is all dandy and cool cause it’s not.”

Joshua, sighed flustered, sat up abruptly. "Ko, I apologize. What more do you want me to say?" he asked, his tone reflecting a hint of desperation.

Getting out of his grasp she folded her arms looking at him like he was stupid “It’s not about what else I want you to say, I want you to acknowledge what you said.”

“Matter fact I’m done explaining myself cause remember I’m just your client it isn’t nothing else to it so it don’t matter I’m leaving.” Dakota attempted to get out of the bed to grab her clothes and leave but Joshua grabbed her pinning her arms down on the bed hovering over her as his sliver chain dangled in her face he stared in her eyes deeply.

“Dakota, you're more than just a client...I can't be away from you, can't go without seeing your radiant face or hearing your angelic voice. I want to be around you, soak up life with you, and just be beside you. Losing you would kill me. I love you with all of my heart.I don't want to miss a minute without you by my side. I love you Ko.”

“I want you and I’ll prove it by showing you then just telling you.”

That was it. Those words was something she thought she’d never hear but she did. All Dakota could do was stare back into his eyes taking in everything he had just told her. He was in love with her but she was also hesitant to believe maybe he was right he did need to show her.

“Joshua you don’t mean that you’re just telling me that because you want me to get over what you said.” Dakota said being stubborn no matter how much it melted her heart to hear him say those words she just couldn’t believe it.

Laughing to himself softly he knew she would be stubborn and he could handle it he just had to show her how much he meant it “Ko I mean that shit and if it takes me a million hours, years, or months to show you I will. I apologize for I what said I love you and I’ll show you.”

As he hovers above her, his gaze never wavers.He stares down at her with such intensity and passion, as if he owns her.He wants her back in his home, alone, just the two of them for a whole month.

He wants nothing but her all to himself, without any interference or distractions.

“That’s why I want to ask you to come back home with me while I’m off for the whole month just me and you…that’s if you want to mama.” He asked with pleading eyes.

Dakota pondered for a moment, her mind racing with thoughts and doubts. She wanted to believe him, to trust that he was sincere in his words. Could this be his opportunity to prove it? She took a deep breath and looked up at him, searching for any sign of insincerity. When she saw only a warm smile on his face, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. With a smile of her own, she answered, "Yes, I'll go with you."

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Instagram Story • Dakota Valentine

“It’s so beautiful here.” Dakota covered her eyes from the hard sunlight while she admired the beautiful landscape of Pensacola, Florida. The beautiful trees and water was something that amazed her how beautifully it was.

After a long flight from Atlanta in Jey’s private Jet alone just them two the more they spent alone the more she became to believe he actually meant what he said.

“Here ko.” Jey handed Dakota the keys to his home while he grabbed her luggage from the car his driver sat in. “Go unlock the door and chill I got everything and you better be laying down Frl ko.” He glared at her knowing how much she didn’t listen.

Rolling her eyes she caught the keys walking towards the door she threw the middle finger up at him “You already did.” He shot back smartly.

As she turned the doorknob and stepped inside, she found herself mesmerized by the sheer beauty of his home. Every time he had flown her out to his place when he was off, she was left in awe at the stunning interiors and the breathtaking exteriors. It was as if the first time she had visited his home was replayed in her mind every time she visited.

Dakota walked towards the refrigerator grabbing a drink of water before she plopped down on his white comforting couch she watched as the sunset rose in more beautifully the water waving softly the trees flowing through the wind she was so caught up into the sight that she didn’t hear Josh calling her name.

“Mama you good?”Jey asked sitting next to Dakota on the couch, gently and lovingly takes her feet into his hands.He removes her blue Dior slides and begins to gently rub and massage her feet, caressing every inch of her soft, smooth skin.

He places a gentle kiss on her foot, sending tingles through her body, before rubbing the other foot. She leans back into his hands and sighs contently as he spoils her with this attention and affection.

With a gentle nod of her head, she replied, "Yes, it's just that this place is so breathtakingly beautiful. It's been quite some time since I last visited, and I almost forgot how much I missed it."

“I know I changed some things around here too, remember that painting you wanted back in September when I took you too that art show? I got it hung up right there for you Ko.” He pointed towards the white painted wall where the panting hung.

“Aww thank you baby.” She blushed cheesing happily resting her head and back against the couch.

The two of them sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, Jey spoke up, his voice soft and gentle, breaking the comfortable stillness that had enveloped them. As he looked into Dakota's eyes, he spoke with a sincerity that could not be denied, “Dakota I meant what I said earlier.”

Sighing she looked back at him “I know but I want you to show me Joshua not tell me.”

“And I will trust me.”

Park West Beach

“Joshua you bet not have me at no damn water park! For me dressing up when I should be sleeping some damn where.” Dakota stressed as he had his hands covering her eyes leading her towards the beach she felt sand at her foot.

“Dakota shut up and be patient.”

“You shut up! You better not throw me in the water cause I feel sand at my feet and we are at the beach sir.”

Huffing Joshua smiled finally being at the location he desired for her he spoke “okay ima count to three and then I’ll uncover your eyes aight?”

“Yes.” Dakota answered softly geeked with anticipation and eager.

“1,2,3.” Removing his hand from her eyes he stood back watching as she took in what was in front of her.

Dakota's face lit up with a wide smile as she gazed at the mesmerizing sight in front of her. She could hardly believe that he had gone to so much trouble just for her. The ambiance was absolutely perfect, with flickering candles casting a warm, inviting glow all around them. Her favorite foods were carefully laid out on the table, tantalizing her senses with their mouth-watering aromas. The comfortable chairs beckoned to her, inviting her to sit down and relax. And all around them, fragrant roses bloomed, their delicate petals bathed in the soft light of the moon, as they sat beside the tranquil waters.

“J-Joshua you did all this?” She looked back at him with tears filling her eyes that she so desperately wanted to held back.

Smiling he embraced her into a hug leaving a few kisses on her face “Yeah I had Jimmy and trin help me, you like it?” He asked nervously, he was worried that she wouldn’t like it considering he wasn’t much a romantic partner but he tried and he always with over and beyond for Dakota no matter what.

His love ran deep for her that some would say he was infuriated with her.

“Do I love it? Of course!” She jumped into his arms Jey caught her with one arm wrapping her legs around him he held her tightly then two laughing.

“I can’t believe you did this for me.” She gushed once more before he sat her down gently on the circle chair he sat beside her holding her hand.

As she glanced around she couldn’t help but ask what did he do all this for? Was it to apologize? Because if so she wasn’t accepting it from him no matter how beautiful everything was.

“So what is all this for?” She asked knitting her eyebrows together while she looked into his eyes waiting for an answer.

“Well that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He took her hand into his moving closer to Dakota he stared directly into her eyes watching as she became nervously because she was biting her lip which he took notice of a few months back of when she was nervous.

“I know what I said a few weeks ago hurt you Ko and I apologize but not only that but I wanted to confess my love for you Dakota.” Jey left a few kisses on her Hand before taking a deep breath.

Jey's eyes burn with the passionate fire and desire he's had for Dakota for so long. He wants to express his love for her with a burning intensity, wants to claim her as his, and make her his in every way possible. It's not just an infatuation anymore, it's something so much more than that.He's obsessed, addicted, and obsessed with her.

As he watches her, he's hit in the gut with the depth of his feelings.It feels like a burning hot flame that's raging within him and he can't deny or stop. He's consumed by his love for her, intoxicated by her beauty and presence.

“I love you with every breath I take, with every beat of my heart", I couldn’t imagine life with you Ko and no matter how stubborn you are I’ll show you I mean it.” he confesses.

Jey holds her hands. He looks at her with pure adoration and devotion, his feelings so deep and his love so real.

"Dakota Kamire Valentine..." he whispers, taking a moment to take in her whole beauty and being.

He takes in a deep breath and continues. "Will you be my girlfriend? My partner in life? My soulmate?"

He stares deeply into her eyes, waiting for her answer, his heart pounding and aching.

Dakota's eyes widened in surprise as she gazed back at him, feeling a mix of emotions bubbling up inside her. She tried to avoid looking directly at him, scanning the surroundings instead, to control her tears. It was hard to believe that Jey Uso, the Joshua she had grown to know so well, was confessing his feelings for her on a picturesque beach, with just the two of them as witnesses. The beauty of the moment was almost too much to handle.

He wanted her and only her and he was going to show he meant it.

“Y-yes I’ll be your girlfriend Josh.” She stuttered tears leaving her eyes Jey embraced her into a hug before wiping her tears away she kissed him deeply.

“I can’t believe your silly ass just asked me to be your girlfriend.” Dakota chuckled wiping away her tears pushing at his chest playfully while smiling at him shyly.

“Yeah it took me a while but I had too I couldn’t stand you possibly being with someone else other than me Ko, I love you.”

"Josh, why did it take you so long to come clean about this? Was it because you were hoping I'd forgive you for what you said, or was it because you saw me at the club with another man and felt guilty? I need to know the truth, Josh," she said, her arms folded as she fixed him with a curious gaze.

“To be honest… It was because of what my brother said.” He spoke “I had realized that I fell in love with you ko and I was scared to admit it because of past experiences as far as my divorce I had a year ago I didn’t want to go through another heart ache if we never worked out Dakota with me being on the road I feared you’ll fall out of love with me too and find someone else new.”

“I feared that maybe you didn’t want this as much or I wasn’t enough but most importantly my one fears made me push back my feelings for you but no matter how hard I tried I always seemed to fall for you deeper and deeper.”

"You probably think I’m bullshiting, but there is truth to these words..You are the air in my lungs, the light in my eye, the smile on my face. You are everything to me, and without you...I feel lost and like a ghost of who I used to be.”

“Your gaze upon me is simply enchanting, it's like a magnet pulling me closer to you. Your mere presence ignites a flame of passion inside me, and I feel alive in your arms. The warmth of your touch sends shivers down my spine, and it's a sensation I never want to lose. You're the missing piece of my puzzle, the one who completes me in every way. I can't imagine my life without you; you're my every breath, my lifeline, and my everything. I love you more than words can express, Ko.”

Dakota couldn’t even spare a word to him after hearing him confess his love for her. She was stunned she couldn’t believe it that the one thing she wanted was happening before her eyes.

She love him just as much as he loved her.

“Aww Josh you gon make me cry…I hate you.” She said playfully before she wiped her tears falling from her eyes. She was in such awe.

“Don’t cry ma I just want to tell you how much I love you uce and I meant it.” Jey kissed her, her lips so soft and so sweet. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against his chest, the heat of their bodies making them close and intimate. He touches her body slightly, caressing the curves of her hip before letting his hand rest on her ass. He stares at her with desire, wanting to never stop touching her.

Dakota's eyes sparkled with love as she gazed at Joshua. "I love you, Joshua," she whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "There's nothing else in this world that I want more than this moment with you." As she spoke, she reached up to caress his face, her fingertips gently tracing the contours of his beard. The touch was soft and delicate, but it conveyed a deep sense of affection and intimacy. Joshua felt a surge of emotion as he looked into her eyes, knowing that he was the luckiest person in the world to have her by his side.

While the two sat and watched the waves of the water flow by quietly Josh spoke “I got something for you.” He said before grabbing a gift from the side of him it was red roses and a jar full of poems of letters that he wrote confessions of his love for her.

“Since you said you liked hand written notes, I decided to do this , here’s 365 hand written notes.”

“Jey you didn’t.” She smiled grabbing the jar opening it she read a few notes in complete awe she couldn’t wait to tell Jasmine she was going to flip about this.

She chuckled softly, unable to contain her surprise as she looked at him. 'You really do have a memory like a steel trap,' she murmured, a hint of admiration in her voice. 'I said that months ago, and yet you remember it like it was just yesterday.' Her laughter was infectious as she leaned in to kiss him, grateful for his thoughtful nature.

“But I did and I wanted to it’s always the littlest things that matter and this is one of them baby.”

Jey gazed at Dakota with a look of compassion and sincerity, and spoke in a gentle tone, "I want to take away any pain that you have ever experienced, Ko. I want to help you heal and feel better."

“What if I told you that you did.” She admitted.

“You Frl ko?”

“Yes I’m Frl, when my mom passed you were there for me every step of the way Jey. With you being on the road and busy 24/7 you still made time for me, you still made sure I was okay no matter how many miles away you were from me it always felt like you were there with me. You made me feel whole again through those dark times and I appreciate and will always love you for that.” She stared at him watching him smile brightly hearing those words.

Jey looked at her, an adoration in his eyes as he stares.

"You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

His eyes are soft and tender, yet there is a desire in them.

"I only want you to be happy, Dakota, even if you'd be happier with someone else."

They both were in love and there wasn’t anything getting in the way of it.

Lovers till the end of time .

To be continued…

Hey my baby dolls I hope you all enjoyed this lovely chapter! I told y’all he would do better but next chapter will be not so great that’s all ima say na!

Happy Mother’s Day as well hope you all are having an amazing Sunday with your families.

Till next time. Love you all for tuning in🎀

[ryuzakistoe]

Her (Chigiri Hyoma x fem!reader)

fluff, angst, angst with happy ending, school au, fem!reader, swearing, jealousy-ish, mentions of his torn ACL, arguing

a/n: y’know what, i might do sae next bc i love him so much

(couldn't really find anything that matched perfectly but that's okay ig)

——

He was the definition of beauty, and everyone at school knew it. His glamorous reddish-pink hair framed his face perfectly, each silky strand falling just between his eyes, enhancing his striking features. Those eyes—an enchanting shade of deep pink—were captivating, complementing his overall allure.

He had the look of a model, with a presence that was nothing short of glamorous. Yet, he chose to dedicate his life to football. His striking appearance wasn’t just for show, though; his physical abilities had a purpose.

With remarkable speed, he was virtually unmatched on the field, moving with a swiftness others could only envy or fear. His speed was remarkable, setting him apart in every game, leaving his opponents in awe—or jealousy.

His extraordinary talent allowed him to score countless goals, making him the star of his team. Soccer was his life—his passion, his purpose—and he poured himself into it fully. Nothing else mattered, and he believed nothing ever would.

That is, until the day he met the new girl.

The moment she walked into his classroom, his world shifted. Her graceful entrance, her hair flowing gently beside her, radiated an effortless beauty. But that wasn’t all that captivated him.

As the morning sunlight bathed her in a warm glow, he couldn't help but notice her smooth, delicate skin and the quiet power of her small smile. His eyes widened as he took in her presence. When her beautifully colored eyes finally roamed across the room and landed on him, he felt a spark he’d never experienced before. Soccer was no longer the only thing that mesmerized him.

His breath caught quietly as his gaze locked with hers. To him, it felt like a blessing—an unspoken gift to have someone so beautiful meet his eyes and hold them. He couldn’t look away, as though she were a magnet drawing him in.

But he wondered: why wasn’t she looking away first? They’d been holding eye contact for what felt like an eternity.

The truth was, she found him just as captivating. She had never seen such beauty. His bright hair seemed to radiate, like a flower irresistibly drawing a butterfly. And his eyes…she couldn’t begin to describe them. They were a stunning shade of pink, like nothing she’d ever seen before.

She could have lingered on every fascinating detail about the boy, but the teacher’s voice snapped her out of her trance.

"Hello? Ms. L/n? Would you like to introduce yourself?"

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and offered a shy chuckle. “Yes, I’d love to. Sorry about that.”

The teacher gave a firm nod, indicating for her to begin.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Y/n L/n, and I'll be your new classmate from now on. I hope I get to become good friends with all of you.” She smiled warmly.

That smile…he still didn’t know why it affected him so deeply. But as he glanced around, he felt a flare of annoyance—he wasn’t the only one captivated by her. Others in the room seemed just as taken, drawn to her beauty like moths to a flame.

But he didn’t want them looking at her. She was meant for his eyes only.

But he knew it was almost impossible. That lingering eye contact they shared could easily mean nothing. For all he knew, her gaze might be set on someone else.

It was the first time he’d ever doubted himself. The thought of having a chance with her felt unrealistic. Even with his reputation and titles, his odds seemed to go from nonexistent to barely slim.

What good was such a tiny chance, anyway? It would take a miracle for her to feel the same. But he knew the difference between dreams and reality.

This was just a dream—a dream he wished, more than anything, could come true.

…🌼…

He let out yet another satisfied sigh as the ball brushed the net. Scoring a few goals, he thought, might be the best way to clear his mind, to shake off the image of that beautiful girl wasting her time with some average guy. The thought nagged at him enough that he’d come out here alone, hoping the rhythm of the game would numb it.

Unbeknownst to him, the very girl he was trying to forget was seated on the bleachers, watching him with a gentle smile. As he kicked the ball into the goal again, a sudden applause echoed from the stands.

He turned, and there she was—his mind’s distraction, clapping for him. His ears flushed red, realizing she might have been watching the whole time. Embarrassment mixed with something warm and unexpectedly sweet as he caught sight of her wide grin.

Had she been watching the whole time…?

He stood there, frozen for a moment, before grabbing the ball and moving to the far side of the field, trying his best to ignore her presence. But it was impossible. Knowing she was there, watching him, sent a surge of excitement through him.

Out of all places, she chose to be here. What a surprise.

Each time he tried to shoot, his footing faltered, his nerves fraying under her gaze. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the ball, his mind kept drifting back to her. How could she have this effect on him?

Finally, as he decided to pack up and leave, her image lingering in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the quick footsteps closing in behind him.

"Hey."

Startled by her soft voice, he spun around, eyes widening as he took her in.

And there she was—standing right in front of him, delicate and breathtaking. His mouth parted slightly as he absorbed the sight of her up close. Those beautiful eyes met his, and he felt his heart begin to race.

He couldn’t help but trace his gaze over her features, taking in her soft, gentle eyes, her plush, velvety lips, and the way her silky, flowing hair framed her face. Every inch of her seemed to radiate beauty, as if she were something out of a dream—perfect, unreal, ethereal.

He wasn’t the only one captivated. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him either, caught in the same quiet, electric moment.

She found him just as unreal, just as stunning, with every feature and trait as mesmerizing to her as hers were to him.

After a moment, she broke the silence. "Hey, nice shooting back there," she said, a bit awkwardly.

She continued, "My name’s Y/n L/n, by the way—in case you don’t remember. We’re in the same class–"

"Of course, I remember," he blurted out, interrupting her without thinking.

She paused, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Well, that makes things easier, doesn’t it?"

"But I still don’t know your name," she added, her voice gentle.

Realizing he hadn’t introduced himself, he felt a sudden rush of embarrassment. "Chigiri Hyoma," he replied quickly.

"Chigiri Hyoma, hm?.” she echoed, a warm smile spreading as she tried his name out, savoring it like it held a secret just for her. “I'll remember that.” she continued.

Chigiri felt warmth flood through him at the sound of his name on her lips. It made him feel a mix of nervous excitement and an undeniable happiness. He loved the way she said his name—so much, in fact, that he could listen to her say it a hundred times… no, ten thousand times.

But his thoughts scattered as he noticed her turning to walk away. A pang of disappointment settled in his chest; he wanted to keep talking, to hear her voice just a little longer. He’d do anything to make her stay, even for one more second.

“I’ll see you later, Hyoma! I hope we can become friends!” she called over her shoulder, turning back to flash him a smile.

His eyes widened slightly at her words. The thought of her wanting to come back, wanting to be friends, sent warmth spreading across his skin. It was more than he’d hoped for.

She really wanted to be friends with him? He wouldn’t let this chance slip by.

He’d do anything to get closer to her—maybe even as more than friends someday. But all he knew was that he wanted to be by her side for as long as he could.

…🌼…

Meeting at the football field became their routine, something they both cherished. They would talk about their passions, their dreams, or simply whatever crossed their minds, and each day felt like paradise for the boy. He looked forward to their time together, and she felt the same way. Their presence brought each other comfort, a kind of peace neither had known before.

As their connection deepened, so did their unspoken feelings. They left subtle hints, shared shy smiles, and even had a few intimate, awkward moments. But neither dared to confess their true feelings, each afraid of rejection. Chigiri, especially, doubted he was worthy of her; he convinced himself her heart was set on someone else.

Y/n convinced herself that all he wanted was friendship—nothing more. Doubts and excuses piled up in their minds, each of them pushing aside their "what ifs" to avoid risking the perfect friendship they had. They tried to convince themselves that this connection was fine just the way it was, even as they secretly longed for something deeper.

They told themselves this was fate. But, one way or another, the fate they believed in would take an unexpected turn.

…

"Go, Chigiri!"

Cheers erupted from the bleachers as Chigiri gained possession of the ball. His team was in the lead, and the opposing side was struggling to catch up. The moment the ball touched his foot, the crowd roared with anticipation—they knew he would score. No one ever doubted his speed.

As expected, Chigiri sprinted down the field, closing in on the goal with effortless precision. The noise from the stands swelled as he prepared to shoot, seconds away from sealing the game. This would be the winning goal, and he was the one to bring them victory. With each swift movement, he dodged every opponent who tried to block his path, his speed unmatched and unstoppable.

His eyes shone with determination as the goal opened up before him. But just as he charged forward, he suddenly collapsed. The crowd's roar faded into silence as they watched, stunned, as the player everyone thought would be the hero now lay on the ground, muffling pained cries.

Chigiri's strained grunts were the only sounds echoing across the field, while everyone else stood in shocked silence, absorbing what had just happened. After what felt like an eternity, a few people rushed onto the field to help him.

Y/n’s eyes remained wide, unmoving, as she stood frozen in the crowd. Her mouth hung open, unable to fully process the scene. She had only seen him suddenly fall, as if his own body had betrayed him.

It took her a moment to fully register what had happened, but before she could shake off her shock, her eyes met Chigiri’s. He was being carried off the field, his face tight with pain as they rushed him to get emergency aid.

In that brief, shared eye contact, Chigiri felt a wave of embarrassment and defeat wash over him. Shame gnawed at him, knowing she had seen it all—the near victory, the fall, the failure. He quickly looked away, unable to bear the sudden rush of emotions her gaze stirred in him.

But it was too late. She had already glimpsed everything in his eyes: the hurt, the frustration, the vulnerability. She couldn’t help feeling a pang of pity, yet this was the last thing Chigiri would ever want—from her or anyone else.

…🌼…

He sat on the hospital bed, staring blankly ahead, contemplating his life. Just hours earlier, the doctor had told him to take it easy—his ACL was torn. If he injured it again, his soccer career would be over; he’d never play again.

Fear overcame him. The thought of losing soccer gnawed at him—without it, he didn’t know who he’d be. Soccer was his entire life, his only focus. The whirlwind of thoughts consumed him, until he was pulled back by a knock at the door.

“Chigiri? It’s me… can I come in?”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t want to see her—not after she had witnessed his collapse. How could he face her now? He couldn’t bear to see pity in her eyes.

He didn’t want her to see him like this—weak, defeated. Would she look down on him now?

“Chigiri…?” Her voice was gentle, hesitant.

He paused, wrestling with himself before he finally replied, “I… I want to be alone right now.”

Guilt pricked him as he said it, but he couldn’t face the expression she might have, full of pity or regret. That was the last thing he wanted to see.

“Oh… alright. I understand. I’ll be on my way then.”

The sadness in her voice only made the guilt grow sharper. He wanted her there more than anything, but he knew he wasn’t ready. As he heard her footsteps fade, he let out a sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He leaned his head against the hospital bed’s headboard, closing his eyes. How could he possibly face her?

More than anything, he wanted her to come in, to meet her gaze, those beautiful eyes he’d come to realize he loved. But he wasn’t ready to see the look that might come with it—pity, concern, maybe even disappointment.

He groaned softly, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. He felt completely lost, unsure what to do or how to feel.

He felt clueless.

…

Weeks passed, and he continued to turn away every visitor. Y/n had come by several times, hoping to see him, but each time, he declined. The guilt gnawed at him—he wanted to let her in more than anything, yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet.

Now, navigating the school hallways on crutches, he silently prayed not to run into her in this state. But, as if fate had other plans, he spotted a familiar figure ahead.

“Chigiri?”

His body tensed at the sound of her voice. Though it was weird. Even though he’d hoped to avoid her, he couldn’t help feeling a spark of happiness at seeing her again.

But he couldn’t move. He begged his body to move, even just a single step, but nothing happened.

“Oh… Chigiri… are you okay?” Her voice was soft, filled with concern.

Just as he feared, he saw pity in her eyes. A flicker of irritation rose in him. He didn’t want anyone’s pity, especially not hers. He didn’t want to be seen as fragile, someone who needed special care or couldn’t handle himself. He wasn’t some helpless boy, and he didn’t want to be treated as one—especially not by her.

“Chigiri… please, just tell me. Are you okay?”

His jaw clenched, annoyance simmering. Why did it have to be her, the one he cared for so much, that he felt himself wanting to snap at?

“No, Y/n, I’m not okay. Just do me a favor and go away.”

He hadn’t intended for his words to come out so harshly, but the frustration bubbled over. What surprised him wasn’t that she could have easily left; it was that she stood her ground and responded just as fiercely.

“No, Chigiri. I’m not going anywhere. I’m sick and tired of you shutting everyone out and being selfish.”

Her words struck a nerve, igniting his anger. “If you came here to pity me or tell me you care, then just fuck off, Y/n. I don’t need that from anyone right now.” His voice was laced with venom as he focused on the ground, unable to meet her gaze.

She felt a jolt of shock and hurt at his response. Shocked by the audacity he had to speak to her like that and hurt because he was pushing her away when all she wanted to do was help.

“How could I not care, Chigiri? It’s only natural for me to worry about you,” Y/n replied, her voice steady.

“In such a pitiful way? No thanks, I don’t need that.” His tone remained unyielding.

He wanted to avoid this conversation; he knew it would only lead to a pointless back-and-forth. More than anything, he dreaded hearing the words he desperately didn’t want to come from her mouth.

“Why does that matter? I care about you, and ever since the accident, I’ve been worried sick,” she said earnestly.

“And I don’t need that! Don’t you understand? I hate being looked down upon. I hate not being seen as equal or better. I hate feeling helpless. I hate all of this, Y/n!” He shouted, frustration pouring out as he aimed to end the conversation.

He didn’t want to spend another moment here with her.

He hated arguing with her, but her inability to understand his feelings only deepened his frustration.

"But they care about you! I care about you! How is that such a bad thing?!" she shouted back.

"Well, I don’t need that shit from anyone! Especially not you!" he snapped, not considering the weight of his words.

Before he could take them back, something unexpected burst forth from her lips.

"Well, that fucking sucks, doesn’t it?! Because I care for you! I care for you so damn much! When I witnessed that accident, I felt a fear I’ve never known, and all I could think was, 'Is he okay?'

"You can’t stop the people who love you from caring about you! That’s just how it works because I love you, Chigiri! I love you so much! It hurts my heart when you shut me out. I try to be understanding—I really do. But what you’re doing right now is just flat-out shitty.”

His eyes widened as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. Shocked would be an understatement; he was completely taken aback. He never expected an argument to lead to a confession—unless it truly was a confession.

Could he believe the words that had just come out of her mouth? Did she mean it the way he hoped?

Before he could ask, she seemed to read his thoughts. “Yes, Chigiri, this is a confession… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, especially if you don’t feel the same. I just had to say it—”

“I love you too, Y/n.”

Now it was her turn to be shocked. The realization hit them both, a powerful wave of mutual feeling. Nothing could describe the rush in their chests, the connection that suddenly felt undeniable.

The tension that had hung in the air dissipated, replaced by a steadier sense between them.

They breathed easier now, lost in each other's gaze.

"I love you so much, Y/n. I'm sorry for shutting you out," Chigiri said, breaking the silence.

"It's alright, Chigiri. I forgive you." Y/n smiled softly, never breaking eye contact.

With determination, Chigiri slowly released his grip on the crutches and took a step toward her. To his surprise, he managed to walk unsteadily but steadily forward.

He gently cupped her face in his hands, taking in her features, as beautiful as he remembered. It felt like that day on the field, except this time he was holding her.

His thumb brushed softly beneath her bottom lip as he asked, “Can I?”

A simple nod was all he needed. He leaned in slowly, closing the distance and filling the emptiness between them.

This was their first kiss—clumsy yet sincere, a moment they would both cherish as they navigated through their feelings.

He took the lead, deepening the kiss as he pulled her closer, his right hand sliding to the small of her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, matching his movements effortlessly.

Eventually, they broke the kiss, and he gazed at her lovingly, his heart swelling with happiness. Her eyes sparkled with the same affection.

A smile spread across his face as he held her in his arms.

"I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Chigiri."

a/n: no words besides that Chigiri is truly an exquisite masterpiece

He's so zesty tho wth😭

[luvv4lurd]

kento nanami n/sfw alphabet! ♡

✰ notes: This is only part one! Part two is coming soon. Merry Christmas and sorry about the inconsistency <3

✧ ! sfw below ! ✧

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

super affectionate. small touches on the hand, knee, shoulder, literally everywhere. not in a sexual way either, but in a loving and caring way.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

the friendship started by a accidental bump of the shoulder in the library. no big deal. until you started seeing him everyday you came in. he was definitely the first one to start to friendship.

him as a friend is so sweet, he would buy you things for big things like birthdays, holidays, promotions. he would take you out on lunches or dinners, but he would never admit it being a date.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

two cuddling positions he really enjoys are spooning and face to face embrace. spooning because he likes to hold you from behind, face to face embrace usually happens when you’re taking a nap. 

he loves to look at your face while you sleep, moves any strands of hair from your face. if you wear a bonnet, he’ll make sure no strands of your hair are visible, tucks every piece back in gently, careful not to awake you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

hes such a clean freak, any dust in sight and it’s gone with a blink of an eye. nanami’s OCD goes through the roof, he hates anything with the smallest stain on it. his shoe got dirty once, took him half an hour for him to clean it properly.

his cooking is absolutely amazing. he’s got a cook in his bookshelf somewhere. nanami makes sure to take his time with the dishes he prepares for you, putting effort and love into it.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

in the most respectful way possible. he’s not going to straight up tell you with out a reason and just walk out, he would explain why he feels that way, trying his hardest not to hurt your feelings, but ends up doing it anyway. he offers the two of you could still be friends, but if you decline, he’ll respect it, and you’ll never hear from him again.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

nanami’s in no rush to get married, he would want to spend a few years with you first, (two-three), then think about marriage, maybe kids.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

physical: every gesture he does is so soft and filled with love. he wouldn’t dare put a hand on you, no matter how upset he gets. holds your hand, kisses your hand, cheeks, nose, lips.

emotionally: SUCH A WAY WITH WORDS. he’s praises you on small things. he doesn’t say anything negative about you or what you do ever. loves you too much.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

he likes to cuddle sometimes, but other times, he’d rather be sat beside you, holding your hand or keeping his hand on your thigh.

✧ ! nsfw below ! ✧

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he’s such a sweetheart… he’ll run you a nice bath, give you a good meal, something a drink, a massage, literally, ask him for anything. he will provide!

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he likes his hands… how big strong they are, how well they can pleasure you. he really likes to hold your hand during sex, makes him feel closer to you.

Nanami loves your eyes. he loves how they look during the day, especially when the sun hits your face. he also loves how he can make you tear up from pleasure. hates seein’ you cry, but when it comes to sex, he loves it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he prefers cumming inside, says it doesn’t go to waste, and he likes kids. but, if you’re not ready, he’ll cum outside or in a condom (which makes him upset, but it’s whatever. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he wants to see you pregnant with his child. just the thought of seeing walk/waddle you around the house and belly swollen REALLY gets him going.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s only had sex once or twice. his sex drive isn’t really high, so he’s somewhat experienced. he’s a quick learner, so don’t worry.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary: he likes to see your face while he fucks you. he takes in every little detail, from tears rolling down your cheeks, eyes squeezed shut tight (which he hates, he wants you to keep your eyes on him.), drool escaping your pretty lips.

flatiron: it’s usually when you two are having rough sex, which is never, really. but if you ask him to go rough, he’ll go rough, and this is one of the positions he’ll do.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

very serious. sex to him is a romantic moment, and time shouldn’t be wasted. he’ll crack a joke after, it’s really cheesy, but it’s cute.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he leaves some of his pubic hairs around, but not a whole bunch. small bush.

[roykentschesthair]

Roy is touchingly proud of Jamie in a quiet way.

They haven’t been dating very long (officially anyway) and though the team knows, they’re forbidden from mentioning their knowledge to Roy or during practice because one it’s none of their fucking business and two they need to at least try to be professional

Jamie isn’t sure how he feels about that.

He’s a bit of a show off, and he’s never been afraid of PDA, especially with a partner as fit as Roy Kent.

But Roy isn’t necessarily big on public displays and again it doesn’t look great that a coach is dating a player, so Jamie keeps all his penchant for needy physicality until they get home.

Roy is more than happy to give him all the love and attention he wants and then some.

And so they go for awhile, until it’s once again time for a red carpet and maybe there’s some off rumors about their closeness, about why Jamie Tartt is seen at Roy Kent’s house at all hours of the day and night, and whether something is going on.

And maybe Dani congratulated them on their six months anniversary and maybe Sam did too, and maybe, just maybe, but he’s not admitting anything, Jamie had a little meltdown that he and Roy don’t show each other off.

He knows Roy isn’t ashamed of him, everyone they care about knows, but maybe he needs reminded sometimes.

And maybe he’s at that red carpet again, in a smart suit that Keeley picked, black silk trim and deep burgundy color, he’s wearing a shirt and everything, smiling and generally being sexy for the many flashing cameras when Roy shows, deep black suit cut close and the cameras still flash, the voices shouting for Roy to stop as he makes his usual straight line down the carpet.

Jamie watches, equal parts amused and still a little hurt that he and Roy can’t do this together

(He knows why, he does, he even agrees, but it still hurts)

And he’s ready to take a step back, let Roy pass, when the older man stops, holds out his hand, quiet and calm and sure in the way only Roy Kent can be when he’s doing what he thinks needs done.

Jamie can’t help the stupid grin on his face, the slight shake to his hand as he reaches back, and there they are, holding hands on a red carpet.

Jamie doesn’t know what to do, but Roy casually steps beside him, hand in hand, and he doesn’t smile, but he turns his head just enough to catch his jawline in the flash of the cameras and Jamie just stares, so in love he can’t even breathe.

(The pictures turn out great, lovesick grin and all)

Then it’s just a careful, gentle walk down the carpet, his hand in Roy’s, and maybe Jamie cries a bit once they’re out of camera view, and maybe Roy kisses him, there in that public place, a gentle stroke of affection that only Roy can do.

Jamie begs to suck him off in the bathroom, Roy says absolutely not, and they argue about the merits of public sex until Rebecca shushes them with a a truly poisonous glare.

They hold hands the entire time.

[househrt]

House MD 20th Anniversary Fanfic Gift Exchange!!

Want/Deserve/Receive is my gift for @irenespring for the @housemdanniversary gift exchange (it's also below the cut)

Wilson and House start dating and Wilson freaks out because he isn't convinced he's allowed to feel happy or be selfish*.

*To Wilson, selfishness means pursuing his own desires and having good things in his life because of course it does.

Wilson spends his first week of dating House in a state of low-grade anxiety. It's not the big gay freakout that House predicted that first morning after, when his limbs were strewn across Wilson's body, sapping his body heat and possessively holding onto him.

“If you insist on proposing tomorrow,” House had said, voice deliciously rough from sleep, “I'm not changing my name.”

“Liar,” Wilson said, pressing a kiss to House's forehead just to watch him melt. “You'd love being the fourth Mrs Wilson.”

No, he's been surprisingly well adjusted in that regard. It's hard to deny the reality of his feelings when his chest fills with warmth every time House smiles at him or tugs his tie to pull him in for a kiss or sits on the couch beside him like they've always done but this time their thighs are touching and House's hand is on Wilson's leg or curled around his shoulders.

Dating House is a lot like being friends with House. Wilson knew that years ago, seeing how he acted when he was with Stacy. House isn't one to censor parts of his personality for the sake of whoever he's dating—that'd be too much like lying to him and would undoubtedly lead to a rant about hypocrisy.

That applies to his friendships too—or it would, if he had more than one of them. The only real difference in their relationship dynamic now is the level of physical affection.

The reason he's anxious has less to do with House and more to do with himself. Much like he knows what House is like in relationships, Wilson knows what he's like in relationships.

He goes through the motions, hits all the important Good Boyfriend standards, then he finds someone new who needs him more and he convinces himself he's okay with his decisions, pretends he's happy. He lives with it.

He doesn't want to do that with House, but that doesn't mean anything. It's not like he wanted to cheat on his previous partners at the start of the relationship, back when he thought he'd finally found someone to be happy with.

And House wouldn't want Wilson to be the usual boyfriend-Wilson. But Wilson doesn't know how to be anything different. What is happiness meant to look like for him? Is he supposed to learn how to be in a happy relationship with House? Like an experiment? What if he doesn't figure it out in time?

God. He's never dated a man before either. Navigating his newfound sexuality, trying to unlearn his every dating instinct, hoping he doesn't mess up either bad enough to lose the only good thing in his life.

He should've known he isn't meant to be happy. Happiness is for other people.

House had a patient for the past week, so they haven't had much time together outside of exhaustedly climbing into bed together in the early hours. Now that his case is solved, there are no distractions from their relationship.

And Wilson is terrified. He's falling off the cliff of denial, ready to resign himself to the reality waiting for him at the bottom: he's going to screw this up. When, not if.

House, naturally, thinks he's an idiot, judging by the argument they've been having for the past half hour. House keeps deflecting, diverting the conversation back to his position and dismissing Wilson's.

“I'm going to ruin this,” Wilson says, spelling it out so House can't willfully misinterpret his point this time. “And when I do, I can't show up at your door.”

“Sue you can,” House says, “it's not far to walk, even I could do it. And if it leads to mind-blowing breakup sex, even better.”

Wilson groans and pushes his shirt sleeves further up his forearms. Arguing with House always makes his body heat increase, and seeing House passionately angry always has the same effect, although for different reasons.

“I'm trying to be serious,” Wilson says.

“I know.”

“So, what, you don't care?”

House just looks at him and raises his eyebrows. Yeah, bad question.

“Fine,” Wilson says. “You care. I just can't—”

Wilson has other words at the ready. While he was at work, he rehearsed his side of the argument, coming up with the perfect way to convince House that they made a mistake.

They should stay friends, remove the physical affection from their dynamic and go back to how they used to be. Wilson could cope with that, he thinks. It would hurt now that he knows what it's like to be soft and vulnerable with House in a dating context, but that's okay. Wilson's used to hurting.

His mouth is open to say something, but then he meets House's gaze. House, whose expression is guarded, projecting nonchalance, while something in his stance reveals the thread of anxiety underneath.

Oh god, he's already ruining this.

He wants to take everything back, make promises he can't keep, be the good people-pleasing boyfriend he's always been. But House hates it when he isn't real with him.

He's stuck. His breaths come in short quick bursts and his skin is suddenly too tight. Legs shaky, he stumbles. Distantly, he hears House say his name and he sounds so concerned and genuine that it stings.

House loves him and Wilson knows that he won't be okay when Wilson follows the expected pattern. Wilson can't be responsible for that. The consequences for everyone at PPTH would be bad enough, but the way House will undoubtedly implode…

“I can't,” Wilson says as House’s hands push him towards the couch to sit down. “I can't, I can't, I can't.”

He doesn't realise he's hyperventilating and repeating himself over and over until House tells him to shut up and breathe. It's far from the gentle shushing he might've expected from anyone else, and it works to pull him out of his head a little.

They're both sitting on the couch. House’s hand is pressed against Wilson's chest and he wonders if House can feel his galloping heart rate. He doesn't want to lose this point of contact.

“I can't lose you,” he says, voice cracking.

“Then don't,” House says simply.

“It's not that easy.”

“It could be.”

House says it with an air of easy confidence, as if he hasn't bothered to consider the alternative because there's no chance it'll happen.

“I'm not…good at this,” Wilson says. “Being in a relationship, being happy.”

“And you think I am? Where have you been? I don't do happy, Wilson.”

He flounders for something to say, but he can't think of a way to get House to understand.

He blinks and his vision blurs with tears. House's palm slides up Wilson's chest to rest on his cheek and the underside of his jaw. Tilts his head towards him.

“We can't do this,” Wilson says. “If you don't do happy, why risk being unhappy? When this might crash and burn and kill us both?”

House moves closer, prompting Wilson to turn to face him properly.

“Because you're worth the risk.”

And it's not enough, because Wilson can't imagine anything will ever be enough to convince Wilson that he's allowed to want this, but it's something.

House is willing to risk everything for Wilson. As supposedly carefree as he's trying to appear, Wilson knows he too is fighting the instinct to let himself have something good.

Wilson doesn't know how to respond. He's never been good at reacting to nice words or compliments because a large part of him doesn't believe the words.

But this time, he'd like to.

House tugs at Wilson’s arm, pulling him across the couch until he gets the hint and swings his legs over House's until they're facing each other, Wilson sitting in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs.

“I'm probably going to freak out again later,” Wilson says, settling his hands on House’s waist.

“I know.”

“And I still don't believe you that this won't end badly.”

“Then let it end badly,” House says. “But don't end it now because you're a coward who's allergic to happiness. Be selfish, Wilson. Take what you want.”

“I don't know how,” he admits.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

He nods. He always wants to kiss House.

“Then kiss me.”

Wilson leans down until their lips meet. It's warmth and soft noises and gentle hands and everything that Wilson never thought he'd get to have with House.

When they pull apart, House says, “Not bad. But next time, do it because you want to and not because I told you—”

He cuts him off with another kiss. And another. Each one chips away at Wilson's defenses. It'll take a lot more to break them down completely, but that's okay.

He's not planning on stopping any time soon.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: swearing, possible spoilers for the game, nsfw included, mentions of parents dying and abuse but only briefly

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ENFJ

Hufflepuff

Neutral Good

Libra Sun, Cancer Moon, Aries Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・This man/druid/male has BIG HANDS. And is incredibly tall; 6'5 - so no matter how tall you are, he's still going to be a giant when next to you

・Halsin peppers kisses on your cheeks, nose, forehead, temple, etc.

・So it's pretty easy to say that Physical Touch is his main love language. Halsin adores affection.

・His Pet Peeve are people who don't help those that need aid. He's had a lot of fights with Astarion because the vampire overlooked

・You fell for Halsin first (not meaning to, but his largeness... the way he was so kind to everyone, especially those smaller than him, it was easy to fall in love).

・You didn't expect anything to happen.

・A male such as he had so many people he could choose from, so you were happy to be friends with him.

・And during your journey, there were many nights where he sat beside you, his body warming yours.

・There, he would tell you stories for hours, the fire dwinding as he spoke. Your eyes fluttered closed after an hour and a half of his deep voice beckoning you to slumber.

・You woke up with Halsin still with you, but he had draped a blanket over you, laid back and let you climb ontop of him.

・It became a normal activity.

・Story time and falling asleep with Halsin.

・Your sleep was always dreamless and every morning you awoke refreshed. For the first time in years.

・But he had fallen in love with you the second time you had conversed. It was your passion, hidden behind your introverted nature, that he fell in love with.

・A person who didn't mind being alone, or didn't have to talk the loudest.

・You were a fresh of breath air for him. And Halsin decided that he couldn't let you leave without telling you how he felt.

・It was a full moon when he confessed his love. The stars shone up above, the air was warm and sweet. It felt truly magical (thanks to Gale...)

・And when he gently clasped your face in his hands, and let his feelings be known - you nearly fainted.

"I was not expecting this, have I offended?" His deep voice said as he hoisted you onto your feet.

"What? No - No! I ... I feel the same-"

・And from then on, you became inseparable.

・He loves animals.

・And when you both settle down together, your home is very busy. With so many different types of animals, sometimes even a kid or two. You help them as best as you can, but their parents were either dead or abusive.

・So Halsin took them out in the yard and showed them how to do basic things.

・Some have magic, some do not.

・And sometimes you felt very overwhelmed, but Halsin understood. And he never pushes you. He tells the kids that you need your alone time, and some people are like that.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Black Cat (You) x Golden Retriever (Halsin)

Always Hold Grudges (You) x Forgives Too Easily (Halsin)

Character That Thinks They're Already Dating Even Though They're Not (Halsin)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Married Couple Who Make Everyone Cringe

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Dance of the Druids by Bear McCreary

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, I bloody mean it. 

・Breeding kink

・Big big breeding kink. Doesn't matter if you don't have that anatomy, the dirty talk is heavily centred on that

・He lasts for a long while. Isn't satiated until round four, but each time he makes sure you cum first. Your pleasure is more important than his (in his mind)

・Likes when you grab, grip, scratch and pull. He especially likes when you bite his bottom lip

・When he's about to cum, he'll bite onto your body, just to taste you.

・Although he has a big sex drive, he would never push you to have more sex.

・He's desperate to make you feel safe with him. It would kill him if you didn't fully trust him.

・He has a very, very large cock. Around 10 inches when erect. It was an ... adjustment, trying to work with it.

・Halsin loves the smell of you, so whenever you aren't with him, he'll get one of your shirts and have it across his face while he jacks off.

[charlessmiths-wife]

today I’ve been gradually reminded of how much I love Daniela more and more. so have these few head cannons to commemorate that

cw - mentions of sex/sexual content

DANI HCS

-> soft.

-> like, her skin is so so soft - she makes a perfect pillow.

-> also, always alarmingly cold to sleep beside. to the point you once woke up bc you felt smth wet sliding along your arm only to realise it was her hand sliding up and down you. She’s oblivious to how freezing she is too.

-> “I wanted to warm you up!”

-> yeah, with her ice cold hands.

-> LOVES reading, but also if you introduced the concept of video games to the Dimitrescu family, Dani would go ape shit.

-> she would be a MENACE on Wii sports

-> would 100% get fully invested in games like tomodachii life, animal crossing, Stardew valley

-> someone buy this woman a Nintendo switch, please.

-> she already loves playing board games, though - I’d risk to say that she’s actually the most competitive (maybe behind Cassandra)

-> absoloute BEAST at cluedo. will win every time.

-> she’s a cuddler!

-> I agree with the general fandom hc she’s the most physically affectionate… HOWEVER I ARDENTLY DISAGREE WITH THE ONE SHES GOT THE HIGHEST SEX DRIVE

-> listen, Dani likes sex - but it’s not a necessity for her every single day. and it’s certainly not something she takes lightly.

-> to her - someone obsessed with romance novels - it’s an act of intimacy. a showing of love between two people.

-> so whilst she has some experience, I truly believe she’s only ever slept with people she’s loved - at some point or another.

-> and this means she’s not generally a fan of quickies. sure, sometimes they can be enjoyable, but she typically likes to take her time with her partner - kissing and worshipping every inch of skin she can.

-> (praise kink, both giving and receiving)

-> her love language is a mix of physical affection, words of affirmation, and gift giving.

-> all five are important to her, but those are her top three.

-> especially physical affection and words of affirmation. she loves you so much, some days she just clings to you when she can. telling you how important you are to her, how much she loves you and wants to be with you forever, all whilst softly kissing your lips or forehead.

-> her face way to cuddle is to lie face to face, her head in your neck or vice versa.

-> she can see you that way, and softly kiss your cheeks.

-> and the gift giving. God, the gift giving.

-> just always showering you with the most expensive jewellery, perfumes, clothes, books - literally anything she can

-> and when you try to tell her to stop, that it’s too much and you feel bad - she reassures you absoloutely not too, because she loves doing it.

-> “I just want my darling to have the best possible stuff” she’d say, kissing your cheek

-> I think Dani can very often be seen as the most goofy of the Dimi sisters, whilst I don’t disagree with this - I don’t entirely agree with it either?

-> she can be as sincere, brooding, quiet, and closed off as her sisters can be at first.

-> but she’s much easier to break than Bela or Cassandra are, I think. She opens up to you much quicker.

-> simply put, I think all three are little shitheads with hearts of gold and complete melts deep down, (yk, if you ignore the murder and stuff) however, Dani’s meltines is just easier to bring to the forefront.

-> surprisingly good cook?

-> this is funny because it stands in contrast to my own personal hc for Bela. which is that woman cannot cook to save her LIFE.

-> so I have an interesting mental image of cooking with the pair, Bela slowly and slowly becoming more frustrated with how easy

-> Alcina is a good mother, she genuinely cares for all her children and I would just like to state I strongly believe that

-> however, I do think Dani has felt slightly neglected in the past. at times it’s seemed as if Bela and Cassandra are more useful to her mother, leading Daniela to believe she values them more.

-> however, this isn’t true - and she’s always calmed down by assurances of her mothers love for her.

-> she loves both her sisters, but I think she gets on with Bela slightly better than Cass. Her and Cass have a unique relationship, I don’t think they’ve always gotten along - but they love each other so much, any differences have only ever came because they’ve looked out for each other.

-> all three of them truly love each other, though. and they’re all insanely competitive.

-> over stupid things though. Like these three would be horrible to play a game of monopoly with.

-> whilst I don’t agree with the idea I’ve occasionally seen that Dani isn’t a danger (because… she literally did spend her section of the game trying to kill a man, just like the others) I do agree that she’s the most… civil, let’s say , with the maids

-> this isn’t to say I generally agree the other Dimitrescus spend their time just killing any and everybody, because I don’t - but this is me saying I think Daniela generally tries to somewhat get on with the help where she can. talking to them about books, the village, anything. it gives her company, which is something I think she values.

-> the most poetic person ever maybe. she spends so much time reading - both novels and poetry - it almost bleeds into how she speaks.

-> her favourite book is the secret garden - I just think it fascinates her, especially during the winter months where she can’t leave the Castle.

-> very sleepy girly, nothing usually too excessive, but she definitely gets her full eight hours every night, usually up to nine or ten - and on rare days she’s even been known to sleep fourteen hours.

-> god, I could go on forever. I just love her so much she deserves the world I’m so soft for her 🥹🥹 apologies for how incoherent this likely was, I just have so many thoughts on her and I sort of word vomited them lol

[cutie-meow-meow]

Ushijima Wakatoshi as a Boyfriend :

(NSFW under the cut.)

💚Was very awkward at first.

💚Soon enough he learned how to be a good bf (asked for help from Tendou who's more awkward than him but somehow worked)

💚Takes you out on dates three times a week even if he was busy. He will never be too busy for his darling.

💚Likes to buy you flowers and plants and helps take care of them he just wants you to do something together.

💚Has A very weird way of showing affection, he doesn't mind PDA he just is a weird hugger.

💚Even tho his expression might seem blank, his eyes show so many emotions and admiration towards you.

💚Never likes to argue with you or anyone so he is the first one to give in.

💚He is very soft and caring towards you.

💚After he fell in love with you he started to feel and show more emotions than before.

💚Likes to wrap his strong arms around you whenever you sat beside him, it just brings him comfort knowing you are there.

💚Sleeping next to you is the equivalent to heaven for him he just feels so relaxed and full.

💚If anybody disturbed you or if someone was hitting on you he doesn't have to talk just one look of his will send anyone away.

💚His favorite places to kiss are your hands, nose, forehead, shoulders and thighs.

💚He is very good cook can cook anything just by seeing the recipe once.

💚If you were ever sad he will cuddle and cook for you to make you feel better cuz he is not so good with his words so he uses actions to express his love and support.

NSFW profile :

Now we all know this man is BIG but nothing could have prepared you to how big he is.

He has a gorgeous and painfully thick 9 inches down there.

He is so gentle with you, he holds back a lot cuz he doesn't want to hurt you but when you give him the green light he becomes savage. he will dominate you and won't hesitate about anything just goes on and on non stop till your a begging mess begging and crying for him to stop already.

Has a horribly strong stamina when turned on he can go for hours.

Even though he's a hard dom he will never force you to do something you're uncomfortable with.

Likes to leave hickeys on your chest because he sees it more intimate.

Loves to praise and compliment you during sex cuz he wants you to feel good physically and emotionally.

His moans are more like growls and grunts And hisses.

He loves when you call his name when you're close so he does the same when he cums.

He likes to cum inside only if you're down to it he will stuff you full painting your insides.

He cums a lot like a big amount and its so white and thick and a bit salty sweet kind of addicting taste.

After sex he likes to take care of you, like cleaning you up and preparing a bath with your favorite bath bomb And cuddling with you till you both fall asleep.

(sorry if it was too longe and if there were any mistakes)

[mikuni14]

4 Minutes - Ep 4

This ep featured some of my favorite tropes: when two lovers share a secret that requires them to choose between their loved one and a cause, family, work, etc., when one of them decides to side with and protect their beloved, even if it means opposing and endangering their own family. And also that, besides Great choosing to side with Tyme and the kidnapped girl against his own family, Tyme himslef also doesn't waver in his conviction about what's right like Tan, even if it could cost him Great.

I just like this kind of stuff. I think it's neat 💖 The only thing I miss is the development of these scenes, more of them.

Unfortunately, this is not possible for one reason, namely that we are probably watching it all from the perspective of the dying Great, so there are no extended scenes, "fillers", there is no conversation between Great and Tyme about what actually happened, who Nan is, what is going on, what happened to Tyme's parents and what's the deal with Great's family business.

I apologize to WinTonklaKorn fans, but I can't convince myself to invest my interest and emotions in them. Especially now, because messy love triangles ALWAYS turn me off. There is also a lot of focus on the physical element of these relationships, and I find myself turning my head away when that happens (and as a fujoshi I should watch it like a National Geographic cameraman spying on two endangered species having sex like 👀), and generally drifting away. This plot could have been interesting, with elements of toxicity, crime, mourning, ambiguity, but it looks like it might want to, but it comes out more and more like a cheap romance with unnecessarily emphasized pornographic elements. Again - sorry to the fans of this thread and this couple 🙇‍♀️, but that's how I see it. Tonkla's brother was murdered, and he's constantly shown in a sexual context, in relation to other guys who are into him, instead of in the family/ sibling context of someone who lost his brother in terrible circumstances like Tan.

The only interesting scene was how Great's changed "reality" affects Tonkla's reality. The moment when he hears his dead brother's voice was very moving. I won't hide the fact that I would rather see more of this Tonkla. I would rather see him follow Tan's path from DFF in a sibling context, than entangle him in love triangles. I would like to see him as someone who doesn't lose sight of the goal and isn't distracted by the pussies around him like Phee. Unless Tonkla has some plan for Win and Korn 🤔 but I doubt it atm.

Of course I must mention the love scene between Great and Tyme, and I assure you, I did NOT turn my head here 🤩 I have no complaints, Bible and Jes are super comfortable together, they kiss beautifully and their physical contact has a nice flow, is smooth and natural (has Jes ever acted in a BL production?). You can also see in this scene the feelings that Great and Tyme have for each other. And I love how Great is vulnerable and open to Tyme in this scene (as in every other scene).

I like how Tyme starts with "innocent" kisses, giving Great time to react and even say no. I like how Great is just as eager as Tyme, which he shows with his whole body (as a huge fan of equality in relationships, I pay close attention to whether the series shows that both MLs are equally emotionally involved AND want each other). I love the moments when they smile at each other, when they laugh, when in addition to obvious desire they also have FUN, gosh, it's so 💯✨👌

Bible's tattooed thigh will forever be burned into my brain.

Oh and this?

This is it people! This is what it's all about, this is the quintessence of them and a good BL series. This showing of every aspect of a love relationship, this joy and pure fun, these smiles, these tattooed thighs, this beauty. Just.. wow. Wow!

(this is the second version of the post, the first one didn't appear at all, probably because of the full screenshots and Bible's thigh area lol hence the second attempt with cropped photos. EDIT, the previous version was flagged! 🥳 This is my first flagged post in my life, what a special day, I think I'll get drunk in honor of it)

[adore-laur]

GOLD RUSH: PART TWO

— part one

——

Harry doesn't want to let go. He hasn't been this close to you since what feels like a lifetime ago. After a grueling year of separation, considerate greeting hugs and instinctual touches that respect boundaries can't hold a candle to this moment. 

He can feel your heartbeat. The organ that once beat fiercely for him is now pounding against his own, its unsteady pulse fueling him with love. 

Who is he kidding? He has always loved you. Even when you screamed at him on the other line, poisonous words creeping into every crack of his heart, he still couldn't bear the thought of never having a place in your life again—even if that place wasn't beside you anymore. 

You told him you were proud of him a mere minute ago. It was a simple statement, but also a diminutive glance into your mind. What do you think about when you're pressed against him, aware of his hands on your back and the kisses left on your head? What feelings do they ignite? All Harry wants is to spread you open, lay your cards on the table—both the good and the bad ones—and just talk to you. He only sees you a handful of times a month, so the questions that have been piling in his throat beg to spill out. 

He fears his patchwork heart would also spill out onto the floor, and you'd see how miserably he's been coping. Mentally draining months were spent mending the broken relationship. Yet, the last and largest shard that couldn't piece it together again was the one that was simply the dying relationship itself. 

A year should be enough time to get over someone, but when that someone is his ex-wife and the mother of his beautiful child, he reminds himself that time never stops in moments of hurt. His personal life and career had to chug along even when the train constantly veered off the tracks. 

The regret he feels for not putting his family first kills him inside every time he opens your door to take his daughter for half a week. It's never enough time, and to see you for much less weighs heavily on his soul. The haunting supposition of being unable to notice every tiny detail about you one day is the nail in his coffin. He remembers opening the door a few months ago to find you with shorter hair. It shouldn't have affected him the way it did, and he couldn't help but think that you probably would've asked for his opinion on it if you were still together. 

He also hasn't kissed you or had sex with you in over a year. There have been no romantic dates or nights cuddled in bed, limbs tangled like the wilting vines of your love. He has not held your hand or watched you be a mother except for fleeting moments. He doesn't want those things with anyone else, so why can't you forgive him? Why can't you revive your love for him? 

Harry knows asking for a revival of love is irrational. 

"When do you need to be on stage?" Your voice reaches him, warm like melted honey and gentle like a balm that heals his wounds. 

"It doesn't matter," he says, fixing the twisted strap of your dress. "I can be a little late." 

You step away from the hug, and he feels an ache in his chest due to the loss of physical contact. "No, you can't." 

He tilts his head to the side and smirks. "Says who? It's my show." 

You narrow your eyes dubiously, but they slowly soften when they drift downward and take in his outfit. He'd be lying if he said he didn't plan a revealing outfit just because you were coming. 

"You look handsome."

Handsome. When was the last time you called him that? He can't remember, but the word sends a tidal wave of shivers rolling across his body. 

"Thank you. You look lovely, as always. How've you been?" 

"Fine. Work keeps me busy." Something nearby clatters to the floor, and you nod your head toward the culprit, who has a guilty expression. "Her too." 

"You're not overworking yourself, are you?" Harry asks. God knows he's seen you at your worst because of it. 

"Not as much as you. I still worry about you with all this traveling." 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets while moving closer to you. "Yeah? You worry about me?" 

You nod and look past his shoulder. He misses when you didn't shy under his gaze. "But the videos I see ease my worries. I know you're safe and having fun." 

He clears his throat and asks, "What videos?" 

There's a heavy lull of silence before you say, "Ones of you performing. They pop up on social media all the time. You're pretty famous if you didn't know." 

He ignores your teasing because he's grasping at straws, needing to know if you still keep up with him like he does with you. "And you watch them?" 

"Yeah," you say, nervously touching your earlobe. "It's hard not to with those outfits and how happy you look, you know?" You point to your daughter and add, "She loves to watch them too." 

Harry roughly swallows and curls his hands into fists. Your admission makes the ache in his heart grow tenfold. He never would have guessed. 

Someone suddenly knocks loudly on the dressing room door, making him flinch. "Harry, we need to start heading to the stage! Right now, preferably!" 

With a sigh, he heads over to the connected bathroom to grab his mic pack and in-ears, but not before crouching in front of his daughter. "Hey, Dad has to go," he tells her. "Gonna stay with Mama and watch me?" 

She nods and lifts her arms. He picks her up before setting her on his hip and swaying her. "Do I look okay?" he murmurs. 

"Mm-hmm," she hums, grabbing at the silk material of his vest. 

"Good." He kisses her forehead and then rests his own against hers. "I love you, all right? Dance your heart out for me." 

She impatiently squirms in his arms. He sets her down so she can play with the toys you brought, and then moves to quickly fix his hair in the mirror. He can already tell that tonight is going to be one of his favorite shows, and it has everything to do with the fact that his two favorite people will be in the audience.

After he puts his in-ears in, he shuts the bathroom light off and shakes his arms to get any remaining pre-show jitters out. He looks at you the entire time, watching you glance around his dressing room like it's an art gallery. All of his vulnerable belongings are out in the open and on display—his shirts you used to wear stuffed in his duffel bag, printed pictures of his daughter tucked into the mesh pocket of his suitcase, and a pack of diapers he had delivered earlier today in case you forgot or ran out. 

Most vulnerable, however, is his wedding ring sitting right next to the microphone that you're about to grab for him. It's the same ring he kisses every night before he goes on stage, never having gotten rid of it because it's one of the only things he has left of the love you once had for him. 

You freeze, your hand hovering over the microphone. The color drains from Harry’s face as he stands there, dreading your reaction. 

"Harry..." Your voice is weakened by a certain sadness that could break him if he let it. 

People gather in the room, trying to get him to start heading to the stage, but he's stuck in place. Paralyzed by fear. Everything is a blur around him, and all he can focus on is the shake of your hand when you pick up the damned ring that was cursed from the beginning. You set it in your open palm, then stare at him with a slightly parted mouth and confusion swimming in your eyes. 

Harry then makes a stupid fucking mistake. 

He rushes toward you, grasps your cheeks, and smears his lips over yours with pitiful desperation. His eyebrows pinch painfully, and he lets out a muted sob when you don't return the kiss. Your hands push against his chest, making him stumble back. 

There's no time to apologize since he's immediately being escorted out the door and down the hallway toward the stage. He wants to look back, but he knows the expression on your face will tell him all he needs to know. 

You don't love him anymore. 

——

[l-in-the-light]

Hey 😊 I read your answer about Law wanting to help people because of his trauma. I know about his fear of touch but wouldn't it help him to overcome this when he realizes that his touch can bring other people immense pleasure (when he's giving oral or bringing his partner to orgasm while sex)? 🤔 Besides sex is very good for the health 😎.

Okay, I admit I didn't really know what to do with your ask at first. Are you serious when you're suggesting he can just overcome his PTSD because he wants to make someone happy or because sex should help him feel better and recover faster? Because if you do, we need to talk. Like, seriously talk about this.

First of all, yeah, sex can be good for you. Physical affection in many ways is neccessary for good well-being (that's why touch starvation and stuff like that became a popular discussed topic after pandemic's outbreak). But you know what else is healthy besides sex and physical affection? Good food. Taking a walk. Enjoying the sea breeze. And do you know what those things have all in common? They can't heal or cure anyone out of literally anything. The only thing they can do is to boost your mood and give you physical exercise, which is good for the body, but it's not a therapy and it's not a medicine. In other words, it will not cure you from PTSD, depression, anxiety or anything else besides a foul mood, perhaps. PTSD is not a matter of having a foul mood. Even if your mood is great, you will still have PTSD and you can still experience triggers no matter how happy you might have felt a moment ago. And also sometimes not every food you eat is gonna be good for you. Bread is tasty, right? But it's bad for celiacs. Sex is good, right? Unless it triggers you or you're sex-repulsed. Not everything is good for everyone, period. And you can live without bread and you can live without sex.

Secondly, Law has two triggers we know of: feeling helpless (for example: when he's pinned down or when people are dying and he can't do anything about it) and touch. He overcomes first one by saving lives, not by "helping people" in general. If you're referencing some post I wrote, I'm pretty certain by him swearing to help people I meant "saving their lives", not doing sexual favours for them ;) also saving lives has nothing to do with Law's fear of touch.

Third of all, please don't say stuff like this about PTSD. It's spreading misinformation. You can't recover from it just by wishing for it or pushing forcefully through. If you put Law in the scenario you just described, he would be terrified and then try to force the closeness (because if he truly wants someone to be happy he needs to ignore his own discomfort, right?) and in the end he will just escape, feeling pathetic and blaming himself. He would end up thinking that his love for people isn't strong enough to overcome his own trauma (and the sad part is: it will never be, that's why it's a trauma after all). In other words, putting a person with PTSD in this scenario you described, would do them more harm than good.

And yeah, Law is just a fictional character, you can imagine him in any scenario you want and write fics in which he never develops PTSD and is touchy-feely, and that's fine. But PTSD happens to be a very real condition, so please never say things like that to real people. It's giving a very harmful message - they can end up believing they are broken, because they can't spontanously or by sheer will overcome their own triggers to make someone else happy. Always be respectful towards people suffering from past traumas. No matter how well you mean it, don't tell them to just "get over it", saying it will be helpful for them if they just change their way of thinking about it and do it for someone else's sake. The best result you will achieve is them selfblaming themselves when they inevitably fail.

What you can do for them instead, to show your support, is to assure them they're fine no matter what, that they're good people even if there are things they can't handle, that every step in their healing process is important even if "the final goal" (never getting triggered again) will never get achieved. And always, always remember about their triggers and by all means avoid forcing a person with PTSD to face them head on. What you can do for someone who suffers from a trigger, is to make sure not to make it worse. Is the trigger a loud noise? Take them immediately to a quiet place instead. Is the trigger a touch? Definitely don't try to hug them to make it better, give them some space instead. After they manage to calm down, you can give them something they like that they find soothing and comforting (listen to a favourite song, offer a drink they like etc.) and ask if both of you should just go back home or do something else. This is something you can do for someone suffering from a PTSD. But it's only one possible, hypothetical example, there are other ways to show support and not leave the suffering person on their own.

There is a study proving that adults who were traumatized as children may be more likely to keep a greater physical distance between themselves and strangers, and may also find touch stimuli less comforting than people without a history of trauma. Apparently trauma alters the brain so it's possible the body also gives a traumatized person less gratification from physical affection. If you want to read more about how trauma alters the brain, I reccommend checking out this article: Traumatized Adults Might Find Touch Less Appealing. I didn't know about that before, but it makes sense, because trauma is just a natural response on it's most extreme. That's why I think Law's touch starvation is probably not such a big deal that people want it to be, in comparison to his PTSD. His brain would adapt, and he has Bepo for comfort, which is a safe, not triggering closeness and touch for him. Traumatized people might have bigger issues on their plate than your typical post-pandemic touch starvation, just saying.

Now let's talk more about triggers, because I feel like this needs to be elaborated on. A trigger is involuntary reaction (can be body reaction, can be emotional) you definitely can't control, that is caused by some outside source of stimuli. Those reactions alert us to perceived threats in our environment. Triggers can be anything that reminds someone of the traumatic event, it can be more obvious like revisiting the location where the trauma occurred, being alone, seeing the same breed of dog that bit you, or hearing loud voices, small touch, a grab, even a certain smell. For example, if the trauma is related to being stuck in a locked place, it doesn't matter what place it is or that it's different from the very first place you got accidentally locked in. Any place in which you're locked up will trigger you, like bathroom stalls in which the latch doesn't budge, broken elevators stuck between floors etc. Triggers are also often associated with (but not limited to) the time of day, season, holiday, or anniversary of the event.

When touch has been associated with fear, pain, or violation in the past, it can naturally become a trigger. Childhood trauma, especially sexual, physical or emotional abuse, can imprint deep-seated associations between touch and danger. The fear of being touched is so strong that it is often paralyzing. It can cause physical symptoms like hives, hyperventilation or even fainting. The fear of being touched becomes a phobia when symptoms develop nearly every time you are touched. It becomes a disorder when it lasts six months or longer.

To reduce the emotions caused by a trigger people can become avoidant (of anything even remotely reminding them of the trauma, for example: any touch in general), self-medication (like alcohol abuse, to numb yourself and not feel anything anymore), compulsive eating, self-injury. Sometimes people can even become aggressive or repeat the events of the trauma (for example, hypersexuality as the result of sexual assault, or becoming the violent oppressor themselves; they just repeat the traumatic event over and over again, it's not a healthy way of dealing with trauma).

Most important in recovery is learning to manage triggers, memories, and emotions without avoidance (avoidance is the initial response in PTSD). You can think of it as becoming desensitized to traumatic memories. There isn't really a “cure” for triggers. All we can do is identify when we're upset, try to understand why, and manage our emotional reactions. With practice and proper treatment, the reaction to your emotional triggers could dimnish and become manageable, but the triggers themselves might never go away. Thankfully, even the most intense trauma triggers can be managed.

At first a traumatic response can be hyperventilation to the point you almost suffocate, shivering that don't want to stop for hours and very high level emotional distress that makes you detached from the present and trapped in the past in your head. After therapy and learning how to manage your responses, you can instead apply breathing techniques to reduce hyperventilation, know what to do so that shivering doesn't go for hours but instead fades in the span of half an hour, and you ground yourself in the present (there are many methods for it, for example doing a soothing motion). So, after "getting healed" it doesn't mean the triggers magically don't happen anymore, you just manage them more effectively. And perhaps some of them can be reduced so much that instead of triggering one of the physical symptoms it only makes you very distressed. Who knows, it's a very individual thing, after all.

How to know if someone is suffering from PTSD? The DSM-5 (the official criteria for PTSD classification) identifies four symptom clusters for PTSD: presence of intrusion symptoms (like frequent, vivid flashbacks: sudden intrusive thoughts about the past events), persistent avoidance of stimuli (like avoiding closeness and touch), negative alterations in cognitions and mood (low self-esteem, self-blame etc.), and marked alterations in arousal and reactivity (like lashing out). Which is exactly what I wrote about in detail when answering to this ask.

Let's take a look at Law's trauma symptoms again: we see Law having tremors and quickened breath (sometimes to the point of wheezing), and freezing up when he's triggered (at least in the manga). Whenever someone is trying to touch him or comes really close, his response is to move away. He's also emotionally distant and avoidant. What are his triggers? We saw Doflamingo grabbing his wrist forcefully which caused a freezing reaction (Law couldn't even move to free himself). We saw him also freeze up when Mingo set up his birdcage. When Law was trapped with Luffy and Mingo's clone in the well, he was wheezing and shivering. There are few situations in which Luffy touches Law or Law touches Luffy, but even if those situations don't seem to overwhelm him, he still struggles in each and every single one of them. Which means they're kinda managable for Law, as long as he puts some time and effort into it (that's a sign that he is working through his trauma and knows quite a lot about managing his triggers already).

But how would he react if Luffy forcefully grabbed Law's wrist, for example, which is his confirmed trigger? Probably not too well. I can't imagine sex being comfortable in such conditions. Can you? Sex would feel very unnatural if Law had to brace himself to that extent every time he tries to touch someone and there's no guarantee that none of the touch he receives doesn't trigger him. And no, cuddling him won't help him get over it. If touch is triggering to you, more touch is not gonna solve the problem. Also hugging or other forms of physical affection aren't a magical solution to every emotional problem in the world.

There's also something called resilient responses to trauma, which are basically healthy ways of coping that some people naturally adapt. And I think Law slightly shows signs of it too. It can be things like:

increased time and bonding with family and friends (Law's commitment to his Hearts Pirates and also bonding with Penguin, Shachi and Bepo right after losing Cora-san; he spends time with them almost exclusively)

strong or increased sense of purpose and meaning (Law is always very goal-oriented)

commitment to a personal mission, revised priorities (Law trying to save people's lives no matter what)

charity work and volunteering to help other people (Law taking care of the Strawhats lol)

If anyone wants to know even more about PTSD, I reccommend this link, it really gives a good and detailed guide to all the basics and even includes notes about treatment.

Now I feel inclined to say this to everyone: sex is fine and can be good, but not having sex is also fine! Sex isn't the best thing in the world and no one is missing out if they're not having any, there are so many other nice things. And just because someone is attractive or handsome doesn't mean they absolutely have to have sex, like to prove that they're not wasting their body (whatever that would even mean) and not sharing with the world. It's your body and your choice, no one has any obligation to give sex to others, never ever, for any possible reason you can name. You don't have to have sex just to prove something to others, no matter what it would be (to be cool, to be accepted, to prove others you're a good person and a good lover or not a loser etc.). You're a worthy human being even if you don't have sex, no matter what's the reason for not having it. You're a good person even if you don't want to give someone else a sexual service, give them a blowjob or bring them to orgasm, or even touch them at all. You can show your love in different ways than by having sex. Not having sex with someone also doesn't mean you don't love them. Sex is just one part of life and it's optional. People can have good lives, have fun and be healthy without it. You can even have PTSD but choose not to have sex just because you don't like it.

Now, do I think Law will never have sex? I don't know, that depends on his healing process. For now, I'm not seeing it and he's also perfectly fine even if he will never have sex in his entire life. If one day he manages his triggers so well that he can even have sex, great for him! I still think he will be taking a risk at being triggered every single time he makes his decision to pursue partnered sexual adventures. Simply because touch can't be completely avoided when having sex. It can be worked around in quite a number of ways, but sex basically is about touching various body parts together, prove me wrong if that's not the case* ;) also we don't have to fear or try to erase the PTSD from the characters who can't deal well with touch as the result. That's kinda not exactly considerate or nice to them, won't you agree?

*disclaimer: yeah, I am aware there are other sexual actitivities that don't involve touch. Two people can just voyeuristically look at each other when they masturbate, for example :P why is this word so ugly btw. The stigma around sex-related words needs to finally die and we need more judgement-free words for sexual activities.

I hope this post helped you understand PTSD and triggers a bit better, anon!

[minniiaa]

It is currently 5am and I woke up like 20 minutes ago, let's go lol

You know why I'm here, I kinda know why I'm here but that's besides the point anyways, thought of the day: Law becomes confident in their relationship and makes it exclusively Luffy's problem. Luffy thought that Law being confident about them would mean more PDA, more getting to tell their friends about the cute/hot things Law did that week, but no, Law only now doesn't push Luffy away when he kisses his cheek in public and if he asks, a proper kiss on the lips. A win is a win to Luffy though and he knows better by now than to try tearing down Law's metaphorical privacy screen in one go.

What DOES change, however, is that Law has become… insatiable when it's just the two of them. They definitely share a living space by now if you're thinking a modern au setting, which I am so that's all you're getting, and Law is a MENACE compared to before. Sure they would cuddle and Luffy was given free rein to kiss Law when and wherever in the confines of their home, but now Law's dragging Luffy into cuddling on the couch or back into bed while mumbling about 10 more minutes. Luffy thinks Law is sick when he pouts about Luffy not getting home at the time he said he would (he was 7 minutes late). While Luffy wishes he could get Law to put up with his PDA more, he's still over the moon about Law initiating intimacy more than before, makes him feel a lot more appreciated than he expected.

Now the sex. It almost scares Luffy, which has little differences to arousal for him, when Law starts being more vocal and outgoing during sex. Usually he had to fight Law on pulling his face away from pillows or teasing himself until he used his words to tell Luffy what he wanted, now Law was openly crying out for Luffy like he's reciting gospel and at the same time begging for him defile the temple Luffy worships. A week ago Law gave Luffy the dirtiest look for smacking his ass after Law refused to say Luffy's name, only calling him Mugiwara/Straw Hat out of spite, while like an hour ago Luffy found Law fingering himself while shamelessly moaning his name loud enough to hear from the doorway.

I'll be so real right now, I knocked out halfway through that last paragraph, what you see now is heavily edited because I was on some shit while half awake typing it the first time… the last one though I kept mostly original cause wtf was I on when I wrote “Now the sex.” 😭

-💫💀💫

NO BC YOU COOKED WITH THIS ONE ANON! I totally relate to the GRIPPING 5am thoughts.

I've been dying to write a one-shot with this premise, I started down this road of brainrot when I made a post about Law becoming a puppy boyfriend after years of dating Luffy and you just took it and RAN. The neurons are firing in my brain. I live for stories about them getting into relationships but one that they're already in a relationship and something changes is so fun.

I love this. Like Luffy is so used to being the one to seek out Law for affection when they're alone and Law has always given it to him, not overly so though, he always acts a little annoyed when Luffy throws himself at him or begs for cuddles when he's busy reading but he doesn't push him away. Law's just not a glutton for physical affection like him and Luffy accepts that. Law's an amazing boyfriend and it's enough for Luffy.

However, now the roles are reserved and Luffy is CONFUSED. Like don't get it twisted he is over the moon and would spend all day cuddled up with Law on the couch if he could. It's just such a drastic change, especially in bed. Luffy loves this new Law that is showing him his face and is so vocal and needy begging him for more and more until even Luffy is tired and that's saying something, it's what he's always hoped for. I think Luffy would faint from happiness if he discovered Law fingering himself and saying his name no joke.

Luffy is thrilled, albeit a bit confused and it feels so not like his Law, the one he's grown to love more than anyone in the world. He's not perfect, but he's perfect in Luffy's eyes. He wants to know why Law is suddenly so different from his normal self. Does he think he's more attractive? He looks in the mirror to see if maybe he looks different but no, he's just the same old Luffy. Maybe he just loves him more? It's great and all but why now?

I'm torn on the reasoning behind this (you should let me know your thoughts). I like the idea that Law just woke up and decided he doesn't care anymore. He knows better than anyone that life is too short and he wants to love Luffy the way that he's been wanting too deep down but he's been held back by his own insecurities even after all this time.

Maybe he had a nightmare after years of not having them and he dreams that Luffy died and there was nothing he could do. His patients are suddenly dying more than usual and Law is terrified that he's going to lose Luffy even though it's illogical. The only thing he can think to do is give him his body and soul (he already had it, but he wants to make sure Luffy knows he has it).

Whatever it is, they both like it a lot. Luffy gets all the physical affection he's ever wanted from Law and Law gets to finally be open and honest about his adoration for Luffy. They're more in love with each other than ever and everyone can see it even if Law still hasn't let up on his PDA barriers to the point they're asking if something happened. Both Law and Luffy reply "nothing" with stupid little smiles because nothing and something happened all at the same time.

Thanks for another fun ask, I love this odd anonymous brainrot sharing thing we have developed here. <3

(ps "Now the sex." is great and I would have loved to see your 5am brain chaos but the edited version is just as amazing!)

[devildom-moss]

Yandere Belphie this.. Yandere Levi that.. no. Thats not enough. I need more.

So what about.. yandere!MC with the characters that are supposedly 'yanderes' and them being like, just.. you get it, right???????? /nf

I think this is my first yandere content, so I hope this works for you, anon. I also think you could probably write most of the characters as yanderes, so I just wrote for Levi and Belphie. I went with headcanons (how they would react if they found out MC was a yandere, what they would expect and want from MC, etc.). I'm kind of uncertain about how this came out, so I just hope you like it. There's some NSFW headcanons for both of them (under the nsfw headings)

yandere!MC with yandere!Levi and yandere!Belphie

(Leviathan x gn!MC) (Belphegor x gn!MC)

(18+, dark themes for SFW and NSFW) (NSFW clearly marked)

(NSFW and other tags: yandere and general creepiness, mentions of: kidnapping, poisoning, drugging/love and sex magic, somno, possessiveness, cnc, dubcon, marking, knife play, blood, chastity belt, bondage, voyeurism and recording, physical harm - please let me know if I missed anything)

Leviathan

The more obsessive and possessive yandere!MC is, the more confident Levi will feel. At first, he’d be embarrassed by how much you love him – he might not even believe you. However, once he knows you’re just as into him as he is into you, it lights a fire in him. You need him, and he needs you.

He relishes your obsession, often begging for more. “Hug me tighter, hold me closer, kiss me more, MC.” He’ll demand your attention.

Levi feels so understood. He never imagined his affection would be reciprocated – and he certainly didn’t imagine your love would be as intense as his. He already feels creepy and weird, so if you can show him your creepy side, he feels more attracted to you. He wants you to show him your scariest, weirdest parts. He wants you to be so disturbing that no one else would want you so that he can keep you to himself. It’s only fair since you already have him all to yourself.

Yandere!Levi seems like the type to set up cameras in MC’s room and monitor them whenever he has a spare moment. He would find all your pictures of him and figure out all your dirty little secrets. It would be such a turn on, but he’d try to keep it a secret from you for as long as possible so he could savor it. What if you stopped doing everything you were doing if you knew he knew?

Yandere!MC would probably be pretty bad for Leviathan’s emotional and social development. He loves that you don’t want anyone else to talk to him or look at him, and your desire to keep him locked in his room is too easy to follow. You’re just giving him incentive to stay shut up in his room even more. You’re all he needs, right?

Unfortunately, MC can’t stay in his room with him all the time – even if they want to. It makes him insanely jealous. Levi wants to keep you locked up, too. Why can’t he monopolize you like you monopolize him?

Sometimes Levi has a day of online classes when MC still has to go to school. When he’s especially jealous, he can get a bit . . .dangerous. I wouldn’t put it past him to mildly poison you with a drink, just to force you to stay home. “It’s okay, right? I promise I’d never use something that would severely harm you. Besides, this means I’ll have to dote on you until you feel better. Don’t you want that?” He’d love watching your face twisted in pain as he pets you and lets the poison run its course. You’re enduring all of this just for him.

Levi would love for yandere!MC to kidnap him, even if it isn’t really possible for extended periods of time. Lucifer would find out eventually, but even if you could just keep him locked up for a few days, he’d be happy. Just imagining you focusing all your attention on him and keeping him to yourself makes him giddy.

NSFW

MC would steal Levi’s clothes – especially one’s that he has cosplayed in – and use it for their own perverted needs. At some point, they would get caught on Levi’s camera, touching themselves with his clothes and moaning his name. Levi wouldn’t be able to contain himself. He would touch himself while watching you, savoring every little noise. He’d definitely cut that specific part and save it in a special folder.

He fucks you in his demon form so he can wrap his tail around you. “You’re not going anywhere – not that you’d want to, right?”

Additionally, he uses his tail to get as deep into you as he can. He wants you to feel so full of him, and the fact that you want him inside of you is almost too much to bear. It makes him feel intoxicated.

Yandere!MC could do whatever they wanted and Levi would take it. If you wanted to lock him up in a chastity belt so you were the only one who could make him cum, he’d adore it. If you tied him up or cuffed him, he’d be a giggling, blushing mess. He wants you to use him however that sick, twisted mind of yours wants.

He loses all control when you call him yours.

Levi has a fantasy about you slipping an aphrodisiac into his food and drinks so that he physically can’t resist you. He already wants you all the time, but the idea that you want to force him into it is so hot. He’s secretly a bit disappointed when you offer him food and drinks that aren’t drugged. Maybe he should flip the script and drug you instead? Maybe you’ve secretly been waiting for him to do that?

Belphegor

It wouldn’t take long for Belphie to realize that MC is a yandere. He watches you so often and so intensely. Did you really think he wouldn’t notice you watching him or that he wouldn’t see you scribbling his name and doodling pictures of him in your notebook? Belphie is pleased that his intensity and obsession is reciprocated.

The more time you spend obsessing over Belphie, the happier he is. He wants to be the only one you ever think of, so if you spend every second of class staring at him and fantasizing about him, he’ll be overjoyed. And if you fail your classes because you can’t stop thinking of him, that’s wonderful. He’ll just have to tutor you and spend hours every week helping you study. He loves the idea that you can’t get through school because of him or without him. You need him just as much as he wants you.

Belphie would love it if yandere!MC would curse any witch or demon who calls him cute or touches him. After all, you’re not the only one who wants it so no one else can touch him but you.

He teaches you dream magic so you can invade his dreams like he does yours. He doesn’t want to dream of anyone else, anyway, but he loves that you would take advantage of him while he’s asleep.

Belphie starts to sleep in the attic with the door unlocked more often so it’s easier for you to watch him sleep. If he wakes up and you’ve got him restrained, that’s even better.

Whenever he gets injured, he offers to let you drink his blood. Likewise, whenever you get injured, he asks to drink your blood. That’s totally normal, right? He’s just trying to share.

Speaking of sharing, he will purposefully leave his lip balm in your room in the hope that you will use it just because it’s his. That way, he can steal it back from you and use it after you. You two will just end up stealing lip balm from each other until the tube is used up.

You two can also steal each other’s clothes. If yandere!MC isn’t bold enough to steal Belphie’s clothes from his closet, he’ll start leaving his clothes in their room to make it easier for them.

Belphegor will cook for you and place a few drops of his blood into your food/drinks. He’ll smile wide as he feeds it to you – knowing that you’re consuming part of him. Similarly, he would love for you to do the same thing for him. Please put love potions in his food and drinks – not that he needs a potion to love you. It makes him love you deeper, even after the effects of the potion wear off. Everything you do to try to make him love you more is working.

NSFW

Belphie will carve his name into your skin while fucking you (with his claws or with a knife). Knowing that you’re perfectly happy to be marked by him only makes it more enjoyable. You can carve him too – if you want. He wants to prove that you are his and he is yours.

He “accidentally” falls asleep in your room or in the attic with the door unlocked in the hope that you’ll use his body however you like. He loves the idea that you need him so much that you wouldn’t even wake him up or ask for permission. He’ll definitely repay the favor by sneaking into your room at night and using you.

He adores it when you wake him up with sex. If you’re able to, he wants you to cum inside of him and make him keep your cum in him all day. If you can’t or if you’re just more of a bottom, he’s also happy to cum inside of you and make you carry his cum all day.

Belphie likes to fuck you in his demon form so he can wrap his tail around you. He wants the thorns to get stuck in your skin, and if he gets a bit of your blood on him, that’s okay with you, right?

Small tangent: I think full demon form Belphegor’s dick would also have the occasional thorn on it, too. It would tear the skin slightly to have him pull out of you while he’s hard, and if you let him, he would absolutely destroy you so no one else could ever use you.

Remember that thing I said about the blood in your food and drinks? Yeah, he does that with his cum too. If you want to do that to him too, he’d savor every bite.

A/N: I don't do a lot of yandere stuff, so feedback would be especially nice. I feel like I went a little dark here, and I don't know how I feel about that. Truthfully, but mostly as a joke, I think I'm going to go shower now (this is a normal time for me to shower, I just think it makes for a decent joke about feeling a little dirty after writing nsfw yandere stuff. No judgment if that's your thing, though!)

[loveneversleepss]

Hyunjin as Yandere

Warnings: smut duh, cursing, stalking, obsession, angst, self-sabotage, arguments, unprotected sex, nipple play, teasing, spiked drink, nicknames.

Genre: Idol au, female reader x yandere!hyunjin, strangers to lovers, hyunjin falls first, one bed trope, not really much gore for romance sake.

"Your lips were made for mine. We belong together."

I think you are the most perfect girl i've ever laid my eyes on. The perfect portrait. I want you to be mine. You were made for me.

~~~

The 4 seasons. Everyone knows what that is; Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring. But in your world, it means something different. In a normal world when the season changes, the scenery changes. But in yours, you, the people change. Your appearance changes, your hair normally. Others can be different things. The colors are usually assigned to what kind of person you are.

You're probably thinking, can't we just dye our hair? No. You can't. It's physically impossible. Or so we thought.

The people who can are the elites, the leaders of the generation. They have special abilities, so-called talents. You're immediately known wherever you go due to having a different hair color than everyone. You are one of these people. You have the talent of singing, dancing and modeling. You are known for your unique face and hair. You have a scar on your forehead that changes with the season; a sun, leaf, snowflake, and a flower. So, wherever you go everyone can recognize you immediately which makes you so popular.

Summer represents breaking rules, freedom, lust and partying. You can always find people doing drugs, drinking and having sexual encounters out on the street. Purple is for the party crazed people, yellow for the drug addicts and green for the drunks. At this time, nothing ever gets done. Everyone is having too much fun to do anything meaningful.

Fall represents finding your meaning, disguises and distrust. During this time is when Halloween comes around. Which means a lot of trickery. The colors are very simple. Brown, gray and peach. This is where everyone distrusts each other because the hair hides our emotions and who we are. We can't tell each other apart.

Winter is the hardest, no one is happy in it. It represents depression, sadness, suicide and family. Which is why they desperately need entertainment. That's where you come in, to lighten up their dark, gloomy moods. Christmas helps a bit when everyone comes together with their families. For winter, the colors really help. White is for peace, it means they want to harm themselves. Blue is when they are really sad and need family love. Black is when they've reached the bottom, they no longer care or have emotions.

Spring is the time for new opportunities after the harsh winter. Everyone is happy, childlike due to finally accepting themselves. It represents new love, dreams and growth. During this time the colors are really bright. Pink is simple, when you're looking for love. Magenta for when they are pursuing their dreams. Red is for when you are in love, that you found your soulmate. Aqua-blue is when you are learning to love yourself.

This is how it is and how it'll always be.

~~

Walking through the crowds, everyone's hair is either white, blue or black. Meanwhile yours is red. You get funny looks as you walk by, due to them immediately recognizing you. The scar on your forehead gives you away, the shape of a snowflake. You are starting to become known worldwide. You can hear the clicks and flashes of cameras. Murmurs and whispers as you hear your name being uttered.

But besides all that, you could care less. You are only doing this to survive, because like everyone. The season affects you, winter. Your performances keep you busy and it passes the time. So, you get your mind off on how you feel numb and how much you long for love. Even though your fans scream and shout that they love you. You sit and wonder, do they love you, actually?

~

You were recently invited to this fashion show it'll be a good opportunity to get you out of the studio. So you agree, although having to talk to new people makes you nervous. You're afraid to say the wrong thing, funny right?

"Don't worry about it. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty," your shitty manager tells you. All he ever cares about is his paycheck. He gets paid more when you make appearances at shows. So, of course he would encourage you to go to this show. "Who was the fashion designer again?" He rolls his eyes at you," Versace. Donatella Versace." Right. Guess i'll have to remember that.

You're dressed in a long, skin-tight white elegant dress. It has a large slit that reveals half your thigh. The bottom lining of the dress has a furry material attached to it. A pair of white sparkly heels and your hair half up, perfectly curled. All your hairstyles are meant to reveal your forehead, to be easily recognizable. You place a furry coat around you to cover your exposed chest, you're not the most comfortable in showing your curves. Although, you are forced to.

~

You get off of the white limo, a pair of hands welcome you quickly. You didn't expect such a big crowd awaiting, the lights blinding you. Your eyes adjust as you begin to pose for the cameras. You make a kissy face and blow a kiss and walk off into the entrance. You cringe internally at your pose. You always do the most and regret it later on. 'It's for the fans.' you think. As if that was a good reason.

You walk over to the check-in table and they tell you you're sitting at table 8. You begin to walk around the pool and hear a conversation. "It's so nice to see you again. How are you?" You hear a familiar voice. You turn in that direction to see Dua Lipa standing with who you assume is Donatella Versace. You can see them and not the man standing before them. He seems shy. He speaks so softly that you can't make out what he is saying.

He turns around for the photo and your eyes are blessed. The most perfect man you've ever laid your eyes. His black hair, his eye smile, his dazzling brown eyes, tall and fit with good style. He is all a woman could ever hope for in a man. You stop drooling over him and begin to walk to your table again. Then you hear your name, "Y/n?" You sigh and quickly turn with a fake smile plastered on your face. You walk over to Donatella, who was calling you.

"It's so lovely to meet you, you're gorgeous!" Her hand strokes her hair softly. You slowly push her off, feeling slightly uncomfortable but she doesn't notice. "I want to introduce you to somebody. This is Hyunjin." You turn to the man and he shoots a slight smile. You say hello to him and he talks with an accent. English seems to not be his native language. Just then Donatella tells you, "He's Korean but understands and speaks a bit of English. I hope you two get along!" How convenient. You speak Korean too due to your makeup artist who taught you.

"Why don't you two get to know each other," that's weird. Why is she pushing you two to have a relationship so much. "I don't mean to sound rude but, why must we? I mean we came to watch a fashion show." She looks shocked and surprised that you would be questioning her like this. She clears her throat, 'It'll make sense soon. Go on," she motions her hands for you to leave together. You two look at each other in confusion but turn away together.

~

You begin to wander into the garden, a silence overcomes the two of you. He clears his throat, "So what do you think of everything so far?" It takes you a while to process his question. His accent is a bit strong. Honestly, if you really think about it. You have no chance with him. So who cares about what he thinks about you. You sigh heavily, "It's so annoying. Everyone is so fake. Including you, being so obedient for what? Just to get in that rich lady's good graces? Please." You're not here to make friends, that you make clear.

He stops walking, he scoffs at you and rolls his eyes. "Hypocrite. I saw that little scene you did for the cameras. Your attention and fame craven like everyone you claim is so fake." You begin to get angry and cut him off, "You don't know anything about me!" He steps close to you now, "And you don't know anything about me! So, don't assume you do!" You jerk your head back when you realize his face is inches away from yours. The height difference is frightening.

"You son of a bitch," you mumble in Korean. He looks at you confused, "What?" he responds back in Korean. "You heard me. You son of a bitch!" He's taken back at your words. "How dare yo-" "What are you gonna do about it! Absolutely nothing!" You push his shoulder as you stomp past him. You hear him shout after you but you ignore him as you walk to your table. You sit down angrily and cross your arms. After a couple minutes you see him walk back and sit at the table next to yours. You roll your eyes and wait for the show to start.

~

After what seems like an eternity, the show finally ends. You get up to leave when Donatella calls you over once again. You go and show another fake smile. It quickly fades once you see Hyunjin. “Walk with me,” she tells you two and leads you into the garden. “What’s going on?” Hyunjin asks, which gets you annoyed because you were going to ask that. She smiles and sighs happily, “okay, I’ll finally tell you.” You and Hyunjin are paying very close attention on what she is going to say next. “I want you two to be the newest ambassadors for my brand!”

You and hyunjin look at each other in shock, mouths slightly agape. “Oh, come on, it’ll be fun! Just in time for the spring collection,” she squeals happily and awaits your answers. There’s no way that is going to happen. How could you just give everything to this stranger standing in front of you? “Plus that means you’ll be able to travel the world. Imagine all the possibilities!” You fidget with your necklace and glance at Hyunjin, who was already looking at you.

“I’m sorry but, I’ll have to say no,” Hyunjin strongly declines her and you can see her dreams being crushed. She looks at you, “and you? Are you declining?” You pause for a second then answer softly, “I’m so sorry. My singing comes first.” She nods her head and walks away sadly. Leaving Hyunjin and you alone. “About earlier-”“save it. I don’t want to hear it,” and with that you walk away.

~

It’s been a month since the fashion show. Spring has finally arrived. It’s the first day officially. Since it’s the first day, you’re hair color is aqua-blue. You haven’t had the chance to alter the color yet. The scar on your forehead has formed into a flower. Your manager has sent you to venture out into the abandoned territory due to the season change. It always happens because everyone wants to be where it’s more vibrant with the seasons. It’s a good opportunity for a idea for a song, lyrics always pop up when you’re wandering.

You walk through a forest of tree, the branches snap under your weight. You push aside a cluster of leaves and stumble upon an abandoned castle. You practically swoon at the sight, although vines are overgrown onto it. It can’t hide the beauty of it. Why would anyone abandon this? You swing open the double doors and find it be quite near inside. You find a ballroom filled with three sets of chandeliers. The room is enormous and your every move echoes throughout. You can’t help but giggle right when you begin to sing.

“The day started ordinary,” you begin to twirl around in your long flowy dress. “Boys walking by,” you lean against a statue of a guard. “It was the same old story,” you push the head of the helmet. “Too fresh or too shy,” you push the statue away and roll your eyes. “I’m not the kind,” you walk in the middle of the ballroom. “To fall for a guy,” your voice echoes throughout the room. “Who flashes a smile,” you make a vomit motion.

“Don’t usually swoon but I’m over the moon,” you place one hand dramatically to your head and the other to your chest. “And now I’m falling for ya!” You squeal out as you fall to your knees. “Falling for ya!” You lay on your back and smile brightly. “I know I shouldn’t but I,” you lay on your stomach while kicking your legs. “Can’t stop myself from falling for ya!” You sit up and look at the chandelier hanging above you. “Can’t hold on any longer and now I’m falling for you,” a sudden burst of wind brings petals of flowers Inside. It falls lightly onto you and you smile happily.

Out of nowhere you feel goosebumps on your back, feels like someone is watching you. You shoot your head in the direction and see Hyunjin staring down at you. His hair is the color of red, he's in love? You jump and fall back. “Hyunjin!” You squeal out from being scared. He smiles lightly, his eyes crease. His laughter begins to fill the room, it sounds so genuine. The most genuine laugh you’ve ever heard.

~~

I wake up from my restless night, I couldn’t stop thinking about this sentence. It’s irritating me so much. ‘Do they love me, actually?’ It makes me spiral, I feel so alone. There’s no one here in this big, lonely castle. It’s all mine but I can’t bring myself to fix the outside. I don’t belong here. I sigh heavily as I get up and shower. The hot water hits my head and I can feel the aches in my body slowly fade away.

I dry my hair, apply lotion and get dressed. I hear mumbling coming from the ballroom, no one’s here. Who could it be? I walk out onto the balcony connected to the staircase and see the culprit. “I’m not the kind,” her voice shocks me. It’s so powerful. “To fall for a guy,” I feel as if the world had stopped. A girl with aqua-blue hair dancing with a long, flowy dress. Who is she? To my surprise she turns around, y/n. My mind jumps back to when I first saw her. She looked so beautiful that day. She was perfect and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.

I felt like something was wrong with me, I felt obsessed. I kept watching her. Even after we fought, I couldn’t help but want to get to know her more. I want her to be mine.

“Who flashes a smile,” her expression makes me smile to myself. Ironic. “Don’t usually swoon but I’m over the moon,” I feel hypnotized. I can’t take my eyes off her. “Now I’m falling for ya!” Her voice radiates even louder through the room, like a siren. “Falling for ya! I know I shouldn’t but I,” I lean against the ledge now. Enjoying her little performance. “Can’t help myself from falling for ya!” I notice that I left one of the doors open, I can feel the cool air from the outside. “Can’t hold on any longer, now I’m falling for you.” The petals of my blossom trees fall inside. They land onto her head and dress. She smiles brightly, so genuine. I’ve never seen a smile like it.

This. This is what I’ve been waiting for. The perfect portrait. The most perfect girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on. She is what i needed. She was made for me. Now, I won’t let her go.

“Hyunjin!” She finally notices me. She falls back and looks at me shocked. I can’t help but laugh at her reaction. I hear my laughter echo throughout the room, lighting it up. “Nice little performance,” I tease her as I walk down the staircase. “What are you doing here?” She questions me in Korean, still sitting in the floor. I make a confused expression as I respond back in Korean, “I live here?” She looks at me up and down, “oh,” she whispers under her breath. I reach my hand out to help her up, She reaches up slightly and pauses, she accepts and gets up. “You have a wonderful home,” she slightly steps away from me. “Glad you like it,” I pick out a petal from her hair and notice she blinks fast three times.

She looks down at her hands and fidgets, “I’m sorry about how I treated you at the show,” she pauses and clears her throat as I listen intently. “I should’ve never judged you like that.. or cussed you out,” I smile to myself at the memory. "and i'm sorry for what i said too. I don't know you so I can't make assumptions either." I motion my head for her to follow me and she does. "Maybe we should get to know each other then," we walk into my hallway which leads into my indoor garden. "What do you mean by that?" I ask but she gets distracted by the garden. She runs inside and admires the flowers, waterfall and butterflies.

"I only mean that we should get to know each other. Spend time together," she catches a blue butterfly on her finger, color just like her hair. She pauses and turns to me, "being ambassadors would've been a good opportunity.." I grab a pink rose and set it on her ear, it's color doesn't clash with her hair. "Maybe we should be." She freezes, her eyes as big as a doe. Just then something bizarre happens, her roots begin to change into a pink color. It begins to grow but no, it isn't pink. It's red. She notices and steps away from me. She touches her hair and notices the red of it. "What's happening?" "You've fallen in love, y/n."

She steps closer to me and touches my hair softly, "You have, too." I pause for a second, "do you think we should be ambassadors?" She nods her head and smiles, not a fake one, "I think we should."

~~

Today was a busy day for you and Hyunjin, as soon as you arrived in Paris. You two immediately went to do 2 photo shoots and make an appearance at the Versace Spring collection show. You two had walked down together in matching clothing as part of the show. Your hair colors had been alternated to a light purple, matching once again. It's 9:30 and You've finally checked into your hotel. Donatella has said the room has 2 different living spaces in one, to have our own privacy but still be near.

But to your surprise, as soon as the door flung open, you could tell this was the wrong room. You walk in and see there is only one bed and not 2 different living spaces. Hyunjin finally comes in and notices, he mumbles "No way," and walks straight out to go down to the lobby. Leaving you all alone. You unpack a painting, a painting of you. He had painted it and surprised you with us shortly after you agreed to be ambassadors. It’s a painting if you from when you were dining in the ballroom, petals and butterflies surround you. But your hair isn’t aqua blue there, it’s red.

After about an hour, you hear the chime of the door unlocking. Hyunjin appears with a tired look. "So, we have to stay here tonight. Tomorrow we'll be given a new room." You nod your head in understanding as you take a sip of juice, or what you assumed was juice. You can't read anything due to everything being in French. "Can I have some?" Hyunjin asks and points at your drink. You giggle and hand it to him, he takes big gulps nearly finishing it. You pout as you see the almost empty bottle. "I'll sleep on the floor," he says as he grabs a blanket. "No Hyunjin, just sleep on the bed. I don't mind."

He looks at you for a second then sets the blanket on the bed, "alright but if you snore I will stuff a sock in your mouth." You giggle at his words, "I promise I won't." Your head begins to feel woozy and you rub your forehead, feeling the scar. "You okay?" Hyunjin asks as you lay on your back. "I don't feel so good, like my body is becoming really hot." He places his hand on your forehead, "You don't feel hot." Your breathing becomes harsh and fast. "y/n? What's happening?" He backs away and checks the drink, "Ugh, you idiot. This increases libido, it makes you hot and basically super horny." You get up and look at the drink, "I didn't know, I can't read french!" Your head goes in your hands, "Wait, you drank some too." His eyes widen as he realizes too.

~

"Did the shower help?" You say as you lay in the bed. You ripped off your clothes, leaving you in your underwear covered by the sheets. He shakes his head as he gets inside the sheets, only in his boxers. You lay on your sides facing each other, you feel your heart beat fast. You're fighting the urge to touch him so, to help you turn over. You feel his hand lightly touching your hair, "turn over so I can look at you." Your heart skips a beat and you listen. "Come closer to me," his hand touches your waist. He slides you closer to him and his breathing is harsh too. His hand lays on your cheek as his thumb caresses you. "What are you doing?" It comes out soft, your body is aching which is making it hard to focus.

"Don't talk right now," he whispers as he pulls your body closer. His hand grabs your thigh and pulls it over him. You feel a tingle in your crouch as yours hits his. "My god, you're so beautiful," his lips look so kissable. It's so tempting. Your body begins to move on its own, grinding against him softly, getting a pleasurable friction. "Stop moving like that," his hand stops your hips from moving. "I can't, I crave you. Look, feel." Your hand brings his to your underwear, causing his fingers to graze against the wetness. "Fuck, i'm the same." His hand brings you to feel his hard-on, you feel how long he is. It makes your mouth water.

"I can't bear it," you say as you climb on top of him. The cool air hits your body but it doesn't help with your heat. "Please touch me, jinnie." You've never called him that, but you intend to say it more. Your body rocks against him, causing you to bite your lower lip. His hardness sliding against your covered folds feels so good. He curses under his breath as his hand wanders up to your hips then up to your breasts. It makes moan fall off your lips and you feel him squeeze softly. You reach behind your back and un-clip your bra, you throw it off as his hands replace it. "You're so beautiful," he praises you once again.

"I need you so bad, jinnie," you're practically begging at this point. "oh, yeah?"His finger pushes your panties to the side, he runs his finger across your folds. A whimper falls from your lips as you grind against his fingers, chasing the friction. "You need me so bad?" You nod your head fast, his teasing makes you go insane. He slides his boxers down, he glides against your folds. You can't take it anymore as you take him in your hand and slide down. "Fuck, there we go," he moans out as you take him completely. He fills you up so good and you can't help but start to ride him.

He sits up as you sink down onto him, his lips attach to your breasts. Circling around your nipples sucking and nibbling softly. You can't seem to get enough, his name falls off your lips in moans and whimpers. Just then, his phone begins to ring. You both look at it and he reaches to grab it. "Don't answer it," you beg and he tilts his head to the side and smirks. "Be a good girl and be quiet for me," he answers the call and keeps one hand on your hips. "Hey, Felix," He keeps you moving on him as his voice sounds slightly raspy but it won't be noticable on the call.

Whoever is on the phone with him must be a comedian because he keeps laughing, which makes him push up into you. You bite your lip to stop noises from slipping out your mouth, which is getting incredibly hard. How is he speaking with such ease, the person on the phone having no idea what is happening. His hand travels up to your breasts which pinches your nipples, you almost let a moan slip. You grab his hand to stop him but he swats you away and continues.

You can feel the knot in your stomach and you know your high is coming. "Jinnie," you whisper to him but loud enough for it to be heard through the phone. He looks at you annoyed and mutes his phone, "What?" His voice is harsh and makes you feel timid. “I can’t stay quiet for long,” you hands wrap around his neck, pulling his face close. “Please hang up baby,” you beg him. He smirks and pushes your arms off. “You want to cum right? You can handle it,” he unmutes his side and leans against the headboard.

You whine as he forces your hips to move again, this time he adds his thumb to trace circles on your clit. You squirm and bite your tongue to keep quiet. You begin to get tired and your hips begin to stutter when you feel the knot growing back. He sits up and covers your mouth right before a let a loud moan slip out. You feel your juices ooze out of you and onto him. Your breathing finally slows down and you feel the heat fade away. You know that he needs to finish too so, you start to move again, overstimulating yourself. It feels painful but you’re doing it for him.

Out of the blue, he groans loudly into the phone. “Hyun, are you oka-” Hyunjin hits the end call button and grips on your waist. “Fuck him, you feel so good right now.” You start to bounce up and down on him, a whimper falls from his lips. “Fuck don’t stop,” You feel your face redden when you finally realize how dirty everything is. How much you like hearing his noises. He pulls your chin in and finally, your lips connect. His lips are so soft and his tongue gently slides into your mouth. His kiss feels like heaven. He groans into your mouth as he has to pull away, his eyes look deeply into yours. “Can I cum inside?” His voice is so broken, whimpers fall every 5 seconds. You nod your head and your arms tangle around his neck.

You feel a warm liquid shoot inside you and his chest heaves. His breathing begins to slow and you slowly get off him. You lay next to him, slightly regretting what happened. Did you just get used? Did he not like it? What if he hates you know? Your thinking is interrupted by him, “come here.” His hand turns your face to look at him, he scoots closer to you. His lips press against yours, eliminating all the doubts you had. “I’m gonna make you mine, you can’t run away now.” His words make you smile, “I thought you would hate me after this..” He scoffs and sighs, “You’re actually stupid if you don’t realize how much I love you.” Love? He loves you.

“Love?” You mumble. “Yes, Love. Can’t you see that I’ve been waiting for you to realize ever since we met. I love you and only you.” You begin to develop tears in your eyes, “and I love you.”

~~