#era: my man is cupid

[s2yumissyous2]

"my man is cupid" trailer

[james-potter-yall]

Guess who just got another tattoo <3

[tr4nsf4gs]

that post like i got no money i dress like a faggot and i should be shot

[joelsgoldrush]

“NEVER IS A PROMISE” | 12.4k

old man!logan x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ mentions of drinking, angst, some fluff, old man!logan x caregiver!reader, implied age gap (reader’s in her twenties), miscommunication, slow burn, pining, reader is shorter than logan and has long hair, charles in his cupid era, petnames, minor injuries, wound tending, mentions of blood, virgin!reader, dirty talk, cum shot, fingering, handjobs, oral sex (m receiving), loving sex, sex with a lot of feelings (is that a tag?), unprotected p in v

A/N: i just want to fall in love with him. that’s it. that’s the reason why i wrote this long ass fic 😭 while doing so, i had “never is a promise” by fiona apple and “cool about it” by boygenius on repeat. give them a try if you haven’t listened to them (your lives will be CHANGED) (also, thank you for reading <3)

No matter how often you play chess with Charles, you never manage to beat him. 

“You’ve been staring at that knight for five minutes. It’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chuckling at his sarcasm, you fold your hands in your lap, lifting your eyebrows in mock surrender. “Okay, I get it. You’re the master of chess,” leaning back in the chair, you cross one leg over the other. “Can we play something else?”

“I’m quite entertained, thank you,” Charles says, sliding the board closer to you across the table. “Your turn.”

“How is it that you don’t get tired of this game?” you mutter under your breath, eyes fixed on the board as you weigh your options, hovering your hand indecisively over the chess pieces. 

“Please do something before I’m forced to make a dash for the toilet,” he hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose—a telltale sign of one of his irritable days.

His words spur you into action, encouraging you to finally slide the knight into position. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. “You go now.”

Charles doesn’t hesitate, and he moves a bishop. “Check.”

Fuck. You hadn’t seen that coming. “I’d prefer to walk away with my pride,” you joke, pushing your chair back and pretending to lose interest in the board.

That makes him smirk, a barely there grin dangling on the corners of his wrinkled lips. The truth is, you wouldn’t stop playing for anything in the world—not even if this old man kicks your ass every single time he suggests playing chess. “You’re not out of the game yet.”

Quietness settles over the tank while you allow yourself some time to come up with a new strategy. After a moment, you decide to go for a pawn, using it to block his bishop.

He doesn’t stop grinning, studying your move with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Not bad, but you’ve left your king exposed.”

You gape at the board, your fragile confidence faltering for a split second. "I still have some pieces in play."

Charles nods, his brows drawing together in thoughtful consideration. "True. But sometimes, it’s not about how many pieces you have left—” he reaches out, carefully sliding his queen across the board. "It’s about where you place them,” he relaxes, hunching over, his eyes searching for yours. A smile that’s all teeth welcomes you. “Checkmate."

“Damn,” you blow out your cheeks, your gaze tracing the path of his queen. Somehow, he’s trapped your king with no easy way out.

He leans back with a satisfied grin. "That’s three games in a row. My suggestion is that you start rethinking your strategy."

"Or maybe you’re just a better player,” you admit, a mix of frustration and admiration palpable in your tone. “No more chess for today, though,” you stand up from your seat, gathering the board and chess pieces. As usual, they find their place under Charles’ bed, and you turn back to him, beaming with delight. “I think you owe me one after all this.”

“You’re a terrible loser, my dear,” he ponders, his eyes twinkling as they take you in. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

At that exact moment, you hear the familiar creak of the tank’s door opening, followed by a cough you immediately recognize. Without thinking, you straighten your back as Logan steps into the room. Charles notices, but says nothing in return.

It was an infatuation—or at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself of. Logan is a very good-looking man, probably the most handsome you’ve ever laid eyes on. The fact that you live with him doesn’t help at all. You think that if you only saw him occasionally, this—this anxiety that grips you whenever he’s around or when you hear his voice—wouldn’t happen in the first place.

Whether it’s good or bad luck, you’ve been sleeping under the same roof as him for over a year, and the crush you’ve had since the first time you exchanged words with him only seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

What you figure out over time is that men like Logan aren’t the dating type. He’s never brought anyone home, and for that, you’re secretly grateful. The last thing you need is to see him with another woman—thank you very much. Still, the thought gnaws at you: he could easily be meeting someone elsewhere. In fact, it’s more than likely that he’s hooking up with other people. It doesn’t have to be at—

Alright. You don’t need this either.

Logan’s heavy footsteps resonate even louder, his presence more imposing, and he seems especially pissed off. Then again, he always has that demeanor—angry, grumpy, locked in a constant battle with life. But today… today, you haven’t seen him this troubled in weeks.

“Look who’s joined us,” Charles mumbles, steering his motorized chair to meet him halfway. The chair bumps against Logan’s legs with a thud that sounds almost cartoonish, and Charles scrunches up his nose, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “You smell like shit.”

“Yeah, I missed you too, Pop,” Logan grunts, shoving his hand into the pocket of his suit, searching for something. That’s when you notice the bloodstains on his shirt, smeared across his chest, and the missing buttons at the top. Your breath catches in your throat, and you bite your tongue to keep from asking any foolish questions. “They gave me new ones,” he mutters, looking you in the eye as he tosses the pill bottle at you.

You leap forward to catch it mid-air, your heart skipping a beat. Logan holds your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before giving a slight nod and turning on his heel to storm out of the tank.

When your attention goes back to Charles, you see how his eyes remain locked on the pills you’re holding, his head lowering in defeat. “He’s waiting for me to die.”

“Don’t say that,” you squat to be at his eye level, momentarily hiding the meds from his view. Still, you struggle to make him shift his gaze. “He’s taking care of you, which is something completely different,” you place your hand on top of his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You’ve had this same conversation innumerable times, yet each time feels like the first. He offers you a melancholic but knowing look as you softly say: “You have to take them, Charles. I’m sorry.”

He raises a hand, his trembling fingers curling around your wrist, examining you, trying to find an answer in the lines. “Don’t be. At least you’re here.”

“I’m sure Logan’s tired; that’s why he doesn’t stay any longer. Haven’t you seen him?” you rise to your feet, moving behind him to guide his chair. The tank sort of has a chill in the air, metallic walls that seem to press in around you both. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to play chess with him. Rest assured I’ll always let you win,” you murmur next to his ear, succeeding in eliciting a chuckle from him.

After that, you help him with his daily routine. Charles isn’t heavy, and you manage to get him onto the bed, his frail body yielding to your gentle support. You slip the rest of his body beneath the blankets, tucking him in carefully before handing him two pills and a glass of water. “All the way down, okay? And I wanna see that tongue after you swallow them.”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under, covered in dust and dirt. Charles sticks his tongue out, putting the glass down on his nightstand. “Happy?”

“You’ve got no idea how much,” you say, adjusting the covers. The silence of the tank surrounds you both, and you can sense his gaze lingering on you. You flick your eyes up, furrowing your brows as you sit in the small space beside him on the mattress. “What is it?”

“You fancy him, don’t you?”

Freezing on the spot, your eyes narrow. “I—I don’t—” you trail off, pushing the words out with some effort. “Are you trying to read my mind?”

His whole chest rumbles with laughter under your touch. He finds your hand once again, intertwining your fingers with his. “Don’t be so naïve. I don’t need my abilities to see the way you get all flustered when he passes by. Why do you think they say older people are wiser?” he inquires, his lips forming a straight line. “We’ve lived too much not to notice the most common things, my dear—and let me tell you that you do a horrible job at pretending.”

“Of course I like him. Logan’s a good man, he keeps us safe,” you glance down at your hands—his, weak and delicate, in evident contrast to your own. “I’m not in love with him, Cupid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him years ago,” Charles says, his eyes glazing over as he drifts back into the past. His body remains here, within the confines of the room, but his mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away. You give his hand a gentle tug, trying to bring him back. “When we took him in, he was pursuing a career as a cage fighter. I had never seen anyone like him in all my years of educating mutants. He was so… different from the rest. Reserved, didn’t talk much at first. But I gave him a family, I—” his voice falters, overcome by his own emotions. 

That’s when you realize he’s no longer with you, his gaze unfocused, looking around the tank as if seeing it for the first time. It pains you to see him like this, completely disoriented and disconnected from reality.

“Why are we here? What has happened to the rest? Has he told you anything?”

These are the questions he asks every day without fail—questions that you can’t, nor want, to answer. Since you’re not exactly sure the explanation would soothe his troubled mind, you feel forced to play dumb.

“I don’t know, Charles. We don’t really talk that much, Logan and I,” you stand from the bed, not without pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before. You smile at him, hoping he doesn’t realize the gesture lacks authenticity. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll let you know if I hear anything worth sharing.”

Once you close the door behind you, you settle back into it, releasing a shaky breath. Being Charles’ caregiver was a challenging task, especially in moments like these, which required immense internal strength not to crumble in front of him. You squeeze your eyes shut as you adjust to the harsh sunlight, fighting to regain your composure. When you finally scan the area, the only thing that meets your eye is the deserted smelting plant you now call home.

You open the sliding door, the noise breaking the stillness and forcing Logan to look up from his plate. He’s eating like a starved man, casually drinking from a small bottle of whisky on the table, already half of it gone. After those long drives through the nights and the early hours, he always returns hungry. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, setting it on the stove to heat.

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes: he eats, and you sip your hot coffee in silence, not wishing to disturb the breakable peace that hangs by a thread. Thinking this is how the noon will continue, you begin to walk toward your room until he clears his throat, stopping you in your tracks. That simple gesture makes you whirl around, anticipating something.

“This is delicious,” he acknowledges, pointing to his plate with his fork, the rice with veggies and meat you cooked last night nearly gone. Dipping his chin, he adds in a low voice: “Thank you.”

You’re taken aback by his unexpected willingness to engage in conversation. Moments like these are as rare as seeing Halley’s Comet, so you proceed with caution, as if you’re approaching a skittish animal—one wrong move, and the opportunity is lost.

Setting your mug down on the table, you sit on the chair opposite him. Deep down, the hammering of your heart echoes in your ears, and you hope his sharp senses don’t pick up on it.

“I’m glad you liked it. Charles ate two bowls of it,” you explain, unable to suppress a smile. Logan hums, tilting his head to the side as he keeps devouring his meal. You take another sip of your coffee, blowing on it in a futile attempt to cool it down. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Huh?”

“Charles. He—he asks to see you a lot,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “I know it’s none of my business, but I think it would make him feel better if you spent more time with him.”

The sound of a distant train rumbles through the walls, amplifying the silence between you. Logan doesn’t utter a word; instead, he puts down his fork, the clinking noise making you jump slightly, the intensity of his stare becoming overwhelming.

“You’re right about one thing—what I do or don’t do is none of your goddamn business.”

Just like that, the buildup dissolves in a matter of seconds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, nodding absentmindedly. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. How stupid were you to think he might want to talk to you?  “I just—I want to be of help.”

“Just take care of Charles. That’s all you gotta worry about, all I’ve ever asked you to do,” he barks, clenching his jaw, and you can tell he means each word.

When he talks to you in this tone, it makes you think more rationally—it reminds you that you don’t really know him, and yet you agreed to work for him in exchange for a roof over your head and food on your plate. He’s not your friend, and he’s excellent at making that crystal clear every time you cross the line.

Logan pushes you away like you’re nothing, like you’re just another of the many burdens he has to deal with.

It should be enough to send you running to your room, but despite the knot tightening in your belly, you somehow remain rooted in place, your eyes sharp like daggers. As another train echoes in the silence, you come to terms with the knowledge that one more question will drive him away.

And sometimes, you speak before you think, as you do now: “Whose blood is that on your shirt?” you ask, voice steady and cold. Perhaps it’s you who wants him to leave this time.

He shakes his head with offense, frustration crinkling his eyes. “I don’t need this shit,” he groans, his gruff voice loud enough for you to hear it. He gets up from the table, placing his plate in the sink without much delicacy. At last, he heads to his room, slamming the door with a deafening thud that reverberates through the entire place.

It’s not a crush, that voice deep inside you insists as you’re left alone in the kitchen. And it’s valid: a mere crush wouldn't cause this kind of pain, wouldn’t make your chest feel this heavy and your limbs numb.

Whenever he leaves, he takes a part of you with him, never to be returned. By now, you’re certain he’s stolen all those missing pieces from you, and you’ve got no idea how much longer you can endure before you shatter completely.

You seem to have won this battle, but what you end up losing is far greater than any fleeting gratification.

Loving Logan is maddening, to say the least.

To this day, you still recall every detail of the night that altered the course of your life—the night you met Logan.

The memories are rather vivid in your mind, and you revisit that moment on nights like these, when you can’t sleep and the past appears to be much more appealing than your present. Pressing your cheek against the cold pillow, you let your eyelids drop, reconstructing the full scene behind your sealed eyes.

It was your third week working at that restaurant, and you were still getting used to its daily rhythm. Waitressing was working wonders for you—you had a good memory, and people often gave you generous tips. Everything was going well: you were the only waitress on shift, and your boss had left for a brief errand, promising he would be back soon.

During this lull, a group of men entered the restaurant, already drunk or high—probably both. They sat at one of the empty tables, immediately calling for you.

One of them, a tall blonde, was the loudest. “Come here, baby,” he pointed his finger at you, gesturing for you to approach him. The nickname felt wrong rolling off his tongue, and as you obliged, he shoved a handful of bills into the front pocket of your apron. He clutched your waist, dragging you nearer. “I’m getting married tomorrow. Think you can do something special for me?”

His friends cheered him on, laughing and pounding their fists on the table. You managed to slip from his grasp and asked them what they wanted to order. While they took their time deciding, you noticed a limousine parked in the distance, probably the vehicle that had brought these morons here. The driver rolled down his window, hanging his arm from the armrest. Though you couldn’t see his features, the interaction alone was enough to make you look away.

An hour went by, and the men refused to take off. They’d eaten, drunk, and danced—and driven you crazy in the process. The rest of the customers had decided to leave once they realized the night was far from finishing for the noisy group of friends. You apologized, feeling incapable of doing anything to change the situation. Your sanity felt threatened as you turned off the TV, ending the sixth round of karaoke, their shouts and hoots ringing in your ears.

“We’re closing in ten minutes,” you informed them, starting to collect their dirty plates and glasses. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the blonde man standing right beside you, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through your skin. He attempted to graze your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back, keeping a safe distance between you. “How do you plan to pay? Cash or credit?”

“How about with a kiss, huh?” he inched forward, his face dangerously close to yours. Unaccustomed to being approached in this manner, you ducked your head, unsure of your next move. His breath reeked of beer and vodka, a horrendous combination that had you nearly gagging on the spot. As he backed you against the counter, one of his large hands cradled your face, urging you to make eye contact with him. “I swear I can be very, very nice. You haven’t given me the chance to show it yet.”

“Hey, pal. You said one hour.”

The first time you heard his voice—low and husky, the kind that could send shivers down your spine. Your eyes locked with Logan’s, your pleading gaze seemingly stirring something in him as he got a grip on the situation. His brows bumped together in a scowl, and you didn’t miss how he limped as he made his way into the restaurant.

There was something about him—how he moved, his stance—that felt strangely familiar.

“We’re busy in here, chauffeur,” the blue-eyed man protested, slightly losing his balance while still holding your cheek.

Your rescuer squared off against him, their noses practically brushing. He worked his jaw, his half-lidded, tired eyes taking in the sight of you. “I’m no fortune-teller, but I don’t think she’s into you, bub.”

“Come again?” the blonde guy released you, much more concerned with defending his bruised pride. “What’s the matter, Grandpa? Is it past your bedtime?”

“I want you to pay me for the ride, and for waiting a fucking hour and a half for you and your friends,” the older man spat, jerking his thumb toward the limousine. “I’m not taking you back to the hotel. You might want to start looking’ for another driver.”

The group of men closed in around him, their anger bubbling. “That’s not cool, dude. We had a deal,” another voice snapped, but Logan couldn’t seem to care less.

“Well, the deal’s off. And leave the girl alone, will you?” he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. “So, where’s my money?”

He couldn’t have predicted it. One of the men behind him swung a plate, striking him in the nape and catching him off guard. Logan collapsed to the floor, clutching his head in pain. The others took the opportunity and began to pummel him, kicks and punches landing wherever they could.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, desperately trying to intervene. You grabbed at their clothes, digging your fingernails into every patch of exposed skin you could find, but they shoved you aside with brutal force. Your back slammed against the nearest wall, a jolt of sudden pain making you wince.

The blood in your veins turned to ice as you watched, paralyzed with fear that they might kill him. But then—

Three metallic claws emerged from his knuckles, and he used them to push himself upright. Despite the blood smeared across his nose and mouth, he managed to stand, his quickened breathing coming out in short puffs. The men backed away in shock, leaving him alone amidst the chaos. 

You stared at him, your hands trembling as recognition dawned: it was the Wolverine. The familiarity, the sense of having seen him before, all made sense now. It all flooded back in a rush—the comics, the news, the rumors.

“Get the hell outta my sight,” he growled, pressing his claws against the fabric of the blue-eyed man’s jacket, making him flinch.

You couldn’t make out what you were feeling. It wasn’t fear, but intrigue. Even as the group of men fled the restaurant, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. At first, he avoided your gaze, focusing on his shoes as he retracted his claws.

Once the immediate danger had passed, he slumped forward, groaning. You gently draped one of his arms around your shoulders and helped him into a nearby chair. His weight felt like a thousand bricks, but you accomplished to get him seated.

He rubbed a shaky hand over his graying beard, his face twisting in pain as you pressed a makeshift towel of napkins against his lower lip, where blood continued to flow. Taking the towel from you, he continued tending to himself. You scanned his features, scrutinizing him.

“You are…” you began, the words feeling inadequate at the moment.

Logan nodded hesitantly, his silence confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, that’s me,” he tugged at his shirt collar, exposing some of his chest hair, fresh blood staining his work clothes. Your gaze fell there, and you quickly chided yourself. The poor guy was bleeding, and you were checking him out. Jeez.

Kneeling by his side, you introduced yourself. “Thank you for stepping up for me,” you said afterward, and he shook his head dismissively. “They were a pain in the ass. I don’t know how you even managed to drive them here.”

“Money’s money, darlin’. Doesn’t matter where it comes from, as long as—” he was interrupted by a coughing fit, and your concern deepened as you continued to spot more of his injuries. “I’ll heal,” he reassured you, his expression softening in an attempt to calm your anxiety.

Your eyes pierced his with an intensity that seemed to unsettle him. A flush of crimson crept into your cheeks as a question surfaced in your mind: “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You don’t owe me anything, kid,” he replied, a hint of gruffness in his voice.

“But I could help you,” you persisted, your voice betraying a touch of eagerness. Stifling a cough, you tried to mask your enthusiasm, and sighed. “Are you hungry? I could cook you something, or pour you a drink. We’ve got plenty of liquor—”

Logan interrupted you, placing the towel down on the table. “Have you ever taken care of an old person?” 

Tilting your head, you considered his question. “How old?”

“Ninety-somethin’.”

You nodded, memories of the events from years ago surfacing. “I lived with my grandparents for most of my life. When they fell ill, I spent a lot of time with them. My mom had to work long hours, and I—well, the point is, I did take care of them,” you paused for an instant, his expression unreadable, though you perceived a slight relaxation in his posture, as if your answer had put him at ease. “I like being around old people. They have stories to tell,” you added, a genuine smile breaking through, “and I’m a good listener.”

“Then I suppose there is somethin’ you can help me with.”

And so began a new chapter in your life. The very next day, you were moving in with him and Charles. It took several weeks for the latter to warm up to you and get used to your presence. Initially, he was hopeful that you might also be a mutant, but his disappointment was palpable when he discovered you lacked any supernatural gifts. Leaving that aside, he valued your company.

“The shots mellow the seizures. The pills keep them from happening’,” Logan had once explained, detailing the medications Charles needed. You recalled the psychic attack from a year ago and its consequences, but that wasn’t a topic to be discussed with Logan, and you understood why.

“Where do you get these?” you asked, examining the bottle of pills with a curious glance. “Without a prescription, I mean.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know.”

Soon, you got adapted to the whole package: his unpredictable temperament, his mood swings, and his nightmares. Logan Howlett was a puzzle box of surprises, one you could never quite unlock.

Fast forward to the present day, you realize it must be already late, because Logan’s heading to work. You stand on your tiptoes, peering out of your bedroom window. Your warm breath fogs the glass as his eyes find yours, and then he slips into the vehicle, blending into the shadows of the night. The distant rumble of his limousine signals his departure, your forehead pressed against the glass, as if somehow that could take you with him.

There goes another piece of you.

You find yourself shaving Charles the moment worry takes over your senses.

He’s retelling a familiar story: that one time Logan, Scott, Jean, and Storm saved Rogue from Magneto. On any other day, you wouldn’t mind listening to his stories, despite having heard them countless times. This one in particular is your favorite. But today, it’s hard to focus on it, even more when one of its main characters is missing in action.

Logan hasn’t come back home yet.

It’s been an entire day, and he’s usually back by morning to rest. Now, after having cooked dinner and helping Charles shower, you’ve run out of distractions. There’s nothing left to occupy your thoughts, nothing to ease the building anxiety gnawing at you.

You texted him multiple times—no answer. You even called—also nothing. Every time Charles asks if Logan’s at work or sleeping, the knot in your chest tightens. That’s when your mind starts to spiral, and you’re convinced you’ll burst any moment.

After putting him to bed, you pace the kitchen, picking at your nails and biting the raw skin around them. The sting of pain is there, but it’s faint, not enough to overshadow the real fear clawing at your insides. All these what-ifs that storm through your mind make you feel nauseous: what if he’s dead? What would you do with Charles? How would you provide for both of you without a salary?

Just as you’re about to dial his number again, Logan materializes out of thin air through the sliding door.

He’s got a dark bruise under his right eye, and his once-white shirt is littered with bloodstains. You stare at him—he’s limping harder than usual, each of his movements slower. Walking towards him, your hands cup his face. His skin feels rough beneath your fingers, and he lets out a grunt as you graze his split lip. “What happened?”

“They were following’ me. Had been doing’ so for a few days now,” he says, making no effort to pull away.

“Did you kill them?“ you wonder out loud, still inspecting his injuries. The pad of your thumb hovers inches away from his bruised mouth.

Covering your hands with his, Logan ducks his head, closing his eyes for a brief second and swallowing thickly. “Somebody had to do it, sweetheart.”

You limit yourself to a nod, because you know there’s nothing you can reproach him for. You were no stranger to the idea of him killing. It was an implicit truth between you.

“I thought—I was so scared, and I—“ your voice wavers, and you feel your eyes watering, the tears prickling at the corners. “I thought you—“

He doesn’t let you finish, already knowing how it would end. “Hey, look at me,” he’s the one touching you now, tilting your chin up. Your eyes keep flickering over the cuts and old scars you spot on his cheeks, his neck. Logan forces a pained smile, unable to hide his discomfort. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Just a bit fucked up, but nothin’ you haven’t seen before,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and it works. You bite your lower lip, suppressing your grin. “I always come back, don’t I?”

“But you can barely stand,” you whisper, not sure why you’re speaking so softly. You make him turn his back to you, helping him shrug off his coat. As expected, remnants of dried blood decorate his shirt like highlights. “Let me help you.” 

“I don’t—“

”There are cuts all over your back. And your chest—you’re not healing properly,” you say, turning him to face you again. The look on his face suggests only one thing: he’s about to throw in the towel. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.” You think you’ve never been this close before, his proximity both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. “Please.”

He ends up giving in to your persuasion, allowing you to guide him to the bathroom. Logan sits down on the toilet, watching you gather supplies to clean his wounds. When you come back, he’s still staring at you, his eyelashes fluttering together each time he blinks. Starting with his cheek, you press a damp towel to his skin, and he hisses. It takes everything in you not to flinch in sympathy.

“How’s Charles?” he asks, probably trying to distract himself as you continue to clean his wounds, the towel darkening with his blood over time. 

“He’s doing great. Asked for you a lot, actually,” you take a look at his jaw, where one shallow cut is already starting to fade away thanks to his healing ability, something that never fails to amaze you.

Logan hums, tilting his head. ”I’ll check on him in the morning,” he murmurs, and you flash him a quick smile, finishing with his face. He’s now free of dirt and blood, his brows furrowing as he pauses to collect his thoughts. “The other day, when we talked—“

You cut him off, turning to the sink as you rinse the towel, watching the water get red. “Forget it.”

“No, it wasn’t okay—how I acted,” he stands up from the toilet, and you feel his presence behind you, the alarm inside your head going off as the space between you shrinks. “I know you just want what’s best for him. For us. I’m sorry I was a jerk,” his voice comes out even huskier at this time of the night, sounding afraid of waking someone, even though it’s just the two of you here.

“Apology accepted,” you swirl around to meet his gaze, only to find yourself nose-to-nose with him, and you lean back against the sink, your spine pressed into the cool surface. Logan places his hands on both sides of the vanity, caging you with his body. Like the most beautiful tree, he stands tall in front of you, and you take a deep breath, getting drunk on his distinctive scent. “Are you… okay?”

You watch as he lowers his head, pursing his lips before muttering: “Imma need you to do something more for me,” he says, almost pleading, and you can’t avoid the amount of thoughts that rush into your mind. Gone was your decency when you had to deal with him.

That’s when he looks up to find your eyes, his harsh expression evolving into a more vulnerable one. “Have you ever removed a bullet?”

If you thought listening to Logan’s nightmares was painful, nothing could have prepared you for the sounds he makes while you pull several bullets from his wounds. 

He sits shirtless in front of you, grunting at each of your careful movements. As you remove one bullet lodged near his ribs, Logan practically yells, and you rest your cheek against his, desperate to ease his suffering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m almost done,” you whisper into his ear, hoping your words might bring him some relief. He lets his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder, trusting you enough to tend to his injuries, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

It takes you half an hour to clean both his chest and back, but Logan doesn’t complain. When you’re finished, he goes straight to his room, flopping onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing still labored. You wish you could lie beside him, even just for a few minutes, but your last shred of self-control stops you from doing such a thing.

“Get some sleep,” you say leaning against the doorframe, your advice sounding more like a plea. He looks exhausted, dark circles sunken beneath his eyes. 

Logan lets out a bitter laugh. “Do I look that bad?”

You roll your eyes at that, your fingers curling around the doorknob. Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you catch something in his look—a glimmer of something you can’t quite put into words, but you decide not to look further into it. “Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, darlin’—and thank you,” he murmurs, holding your gaze until the door shuts between you.

Then you sprint to your room, gently closing the door before biting back a smile, replaying the last hour in your mind. How close to you he had been, how comfortable he seemed around you.

You hadn’t just crossed lines—you’d broken them. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Somehow, your racing mind calms down, and you fall asleep, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting against your chest.

You’re a light sleeper. The sound of something shattering wakes you, leaving you startled and disoriented. Dawn is just breaking, the first rays of sunlight slipping through your window. You sit up, pricking up your ears as you scratch the back of your head, listening attentively.

Logan’s voice filters into your room—he lets out a string of profanities, and you stifle a giggle, throwing off your covers and putting on a sweatshirt that matches your pajamas.

Barefoot, you walk down the hall, stopping at the kitchen’s entrance. Logan is kneeling beside the table, gathering the shards of a broken mug. It seems like he’s just gotten out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck.

“That was my favorite one,” you say in a low voice, teasing him. His back muscles flex under the material of his shirt, and he turns to look at you, his expression a silent apology. “I take it you’re not using your glasses?”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” rising to his feet, he grunts, digging his fingers into his lower back with a grimace. “They’re called readers for a reason.”

You decide to let him have that one, grabbing a new mug from the shelf and handing it to him. He accepts it, thanking you, and fills it with freshly brewed coffee.

“Was it a nightmare?“ you ask, watching as he sinks into the couch, spreading his thighs apart with a sigh while you take a seat at the table instead.

Logan gives a nod, sipping some of his coffee. “At least I slept for a few hours.” 

“Are you really going to stay up? It’s pretty early,” you stretch your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you before you can hold it back.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then comes your question: “Can I join you?” you prop your elbows on your knees, any trace of sleepiness now gone with the wind.

He squints his eyes, his unrelenting stare boring into you. “Feel free.”

So here you are, studying him as he drinks his coffee, his fingers wrapped tightly around the ceramic. There are so many things you want to ask him—about how he’s feeling, if his wounds have healed—but it seems you’ve entered a silent staring contest without even knowing it.

Not that you mind him looking at you—you just want to know the reason why.

You snort, and he arches a brow. “Do I have something on my face?” you decide to ask him, straightening your back.

“I guess I can’t help but wonder why you agreed to all of this,” he says, setting the mug down with a soft clink. By this, you understand he’s referring to being Charles’ caregiver and leaving your old job behind. “I mean—you could be doing better things with your life. Why would you choose to do this?”

“I told you before: I wanted to help you,” you shrug, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach tightens with nerves. You watch as Logan folds his arms, the muscles of his biceps becoming more visible. “Plus, I love being around Charles.

“I don’t think people your age would be that interested in spending their days like this,” he says, and you toy with a lock of your hair, wrapping it around your finger.

“Well, good thing I’m not like most people my age then.”

His silence hangs heavy in the air until he speaks again. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know that feeling when life seems like a race? And you just have to keep up with certain things that everybody else is doing, or you’ll be left behind?” you pause, the words falling more naturally than you’d expected. Logan nods, making it seem like he understands what you’re trying to say. Whether he truly does it or not, you don’t know. “When my friends started going to parties, getting boyfriends… I couldn’t. My family wouldn’t let me. And even when I could, it felt like it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

Inhaling sharply, you stop yourself. The conversation suddenly feels far too personal.

“You never had a boyfriend?” he gets more comfortable on the couch, his voice gruff as he rubs his chin, waiting for a reply.

A familiar heat settles between your legs. “I went out with some guys, but it never led to anything serious,” you say, your cheeks getting warmer the more details you share with him. “I guess I wasn’t the kind of girl they were looking for,” you add, not missing the way his lips twitch momentarily.

“How could they not want you?”

“They didn’t think like you do.”

“That’s because they were boys, not men,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to your hands before returning to your face. “Did they treat you right, those boys?”

Swallowing hard, you can hardly register the uncertainty in your own voice. “I mean… yes, I think they did. They were nice to me.”

There it is—the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Nice doesn’t mean good, though.”

You dig your nails onto the table, your pulse quickening, trying to hide how affected you are by his words. “What is it that you want to know?”

“Come sit with me, doll.”

Doll. Doll. Doll. Inside your chest, your heart gallops, your legs trembling as you get off the table, moving closer to him. Feeling lighter with every step you take, you plop down beside him, and Logan sits straighter, his knees almost bumping into yours. You can’t bring yourself to look at him—this is happening, just like in your filthiest dreams.

His hand slides up to yours, not applying any sort of pressure. He scrutinizes your skin, bringing your hand to his lips, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. It tickles, it burns—it ignites a fire inside you, one you know you can’t ignore. A gasp attempts to escape you, but you suppress it.

“Did you let them touch you?” he whispers, attaching his mouth to your neck, brushing the sensitive spot where your jaw and ear meet.

This time, you moan, any possible rational thoughts turning into putty, melting with the way he’s touching you. “Logan,” you purr his name, begging for something, anything he’s willing to give you. Your thighs, once shoved together, spread of their own accord, and you hear him click his tongue.

“I asked you something,” his teeth graze your pulse point, forcing you to close your eyes.

“I didn’t. They wanted to, but I—I wouldn’t let them,” you answer, and as if he’s rewarding you, his fingers begin to tug on the hem of your sweatshirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the floor, admiring you.

“Why?”

Goddamn.

“Because I was waiting for the right guy,” you manage to get out, grasping his hand and positioning it on top of your right breast, encouraging him to go on with what he had started. His pupils widen further, and he squeezes your tit roughly, eliciting a moan from you. “I think I’ve found him.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any sign of repentance in your expression. “I’m going to hell for this,” he murmurs under his breath, his hard-on noticeable through his tented sweatpants. “Lay down,” you obey his command, easing yourself onto the couch, and sinking into the cushions as he presses himself to your side. He peppers your neck with kisses, playing with the waistband of your shorts. “I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.”

You accept his offer, knowing that you’ll probably regret it in a couple of hours. Right now, it doesn’t matter. You need his electrifying touch, his fingers, his—

With a swift motion, your shorts are yanked down your legs, and his calloused hands part your thighs even wider. A damp spot on your underwear sells you out, and his thumb rubs gentle circles over that area, causing you to lift your hips. “So this is what you look like when you touch yourself, huh?” he edges his fingers closer to your clit, his breath tickling your ear, and he dips his tongue into your collarbone. “I hear you all the fuckin’ time. You’re not as quiet as you think.”

It should embarrass you, the fact that he has listened to you pleasuring yourself. But in a moment like this, it only succeeds in fuelling your desire. “Please. You said you’d make me feel good.”

“And I will, but you’re greedy as hell,” he says, his movements more deliberate now. You feel hot all over as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. Logan’s on the verge of drooling over you, reaching for your folds and spreading your wetness. “Men aren’t strong creatures, honey. You’ve got no idea how hard it is to hold back.”

“D-don’t hold back,” you stutter, losing your composure when he returns to your clit, his fingers coated in your arousal while they flick your swollen bud. “Oh, Logan…”

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he rasps, mouthing at your jaw, though as you try to kiss him, he slows his pace. “What’s wrong? Am I not giving you enough?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper, fascinated by how big his fingers look in comparison to your pussy. “I’m just—”

“Needy, I know,” he finishes for you, and he picks up his merciless rhythm again. Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and you can’t help but arch your back every time he teases you, grazing your entrance with his middle finger. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You dig your nails into his arm, relishing the way his body responds to your touch. He grinds his cock against your hip, his teeth nipping at the column of your neck. “I want to come. Please, make me come,” you sob, letting out a shaky breath. A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead, and Logan locks eyes with you after what feels like an eternity. “Please, Lo.”

The nickname snaps something inside of him. His fingers circle your clit with a fervency you hadn’t experienced before, your pleasure seemingly being his primary focus. “The shit I’d do for you.”

You warn him, telling him you’re close—so so so close—until the fire in your belly flares, and blood rushes to your ears. You collapse against him, holding his hand firmly against your core, hips jerking as you ride your orgasm. The world narrows down to this—this moment, your most desired fantasy.

Logan holds you as you go limp in his arms, rubbing your clit ever so slightly, murmuring soft praises. “Y’did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your temple, burying his nose in your hair. You’re still out of breath, the pulsing between your parted legs persisting long after your release. “Told you you weren’t quiet.”

A giggle bubbles up from your chest, his beard tickling you as he slides his hands up under your shirt, finding your nipples. “It was n-nice,” you tell him, your voice faltering the more he toys with your hardened peaks. Your skin heats up again, heart racing at the thought that he isn’t done with you yet.

“Just nice?” one of his hands makes its way back into your pussy, ghosting his fingers over your hole, and he smirks when he feels you squirm. “You surely know how to hurt a man’s pride.”

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” you can’t structure a proper sentence, not when he’s playing with you like this. Logan rubs your arousal between his fingers, as though he wants you to see how slick you still are, even after coming. “Are you going to touch me again?”

He hums, feigning uncertainty. “What do you think, baby? Should I make you come with my fingers now?”

It’s like a switch flips in your mind. He knows exactly how to make you beg and which buttons to push, using that power to his advantage. “Yes, please. I want it,” you plead, intending to buck your hips into his touch, impatient for more.

“Do you fuck yourself with your fingers?” 

“Sometimes, but I can never finish—Oh my God,” he slips one finger inside you, causing you to curse, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench around the intrusion, your head falling back onto the cushions. “Fuck me.”

“In a minute,” he begins to thrust his finger in and out, gathering your juices every time he goes back to hammering that sweet spot in your interior. Soon, one finger becomes two, and he reduces you to a panting mess.

Tears threaten to well in your eyes, and you whine as he involves his other hand in the matter, furiously rubbing your clit. “Your fingers feel much better than m-mine, Lo.”

“I can tell,” he curls them just right, and you push back against his thrusts, tilting your pelvis to meet him halfway. “There you go. Take what you need, pretty girl. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

Everything feels frenzied, fast, the way your inner walls spam and contract around his fingers as you chase your second climax. Once you come down from your high, your blurred vision catches him tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down. His cock springs free, and he fists himself, stroking his length angrily. You watch as some pre-cum dribbles from the head, and you lean forward, watching it closely.

“You look goddamn beautiful when you come, darlin’,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tight. Hovering over you, he rucks your shirt up until he can see your tits from above. He alternates between your breasts, squeezing them while he continues to stroke his girth. “Want to see these all dirty.”

Logan truly loses it when your hand reaches out to him, tracing a bulging vein near the head of his cock. You meet his lustful gaze, batting your lashes, and then you feel his come splashing against your bare chest, a choked moan escaping Logan’s throat, spurts of his hot seed landing on your skin.

“Fuckin’ hell… fuck,” he grunts, still tugging at his cock, enamored with the masterpiece he’s created. When it’s finally over, he lies beside you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles further into your touch with a groan. “I’m too old for this.”

Minutes pass as both of you seem to grasp the gravity of what has just happened. Eventually, Logan rises to his feet, disappearing for a brief moment before coming back with a towel to wipe his come off your stomach and chest. He’s gentle with you, his gaze trained on his task until his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pulling your shorts back up.

“Like what?” 

“Like you want to see right through me,” he adjusts your shirt to cover your body again, but the towel remains in his hand, a reminder of the previous events.

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

You don’t have to talk about it. You definitely don’t. 

Two days later, he’s the one who comes looking for you.

You’re nearly asleep when he knocks on your door. “Come in,” you mumble, a bit of drool having dampened your pillow. You dry your mouth with the back of your hand, your back turned to the door.

He steps into your room cautiously, as if navigating a minefield. The mattress dips under his weight. “Were you sleeping?” he asks, caressing your leg over the covers. 

You shift onto your back, your body responding before your mind. There’s no blood on his clothes—that makes you feel a bit better, and you shake your head.

“Good,” he looms closer, fumbling with his belt. His thumb applies little pressure to your lower lip, and your mouth parts to let him in, salivating.

This is just like Pavlov’s dog experiment—except that Logan isn’t an experimenter, and you aren’t a dog. Yet, when he approaches you like this, you can’t help but respond, settling into a routine where you both take take take from each other.

Logan doesn’t fuck you, even when you beg him to. He gets you off with his fingers, his thigh, his mouth—but his cock remains out of the equation. 

“Just the tip,” you plead, voice laced with pure need, when he’s got his face nestled between your legs. 

As he stops eating you out, his beard shiny with your arousal, he’s still got that angry look on his face. Your cries don’t get to him. “That lie’s older than me,” he slips his fingers back inside you, aiming to make you drop the subject. “Come on, baby. I gotta get ready for work, but you need to come first.”

Nor does he stay the night after telling you you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen in his life. Just when you think he’s fallen asleep, his legs intertwined with yours and one of his large hands under your head, you drift off.

By the time morning comes, he’s gone. You just know that when night falls, he’ll be back for more, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Despite all that, Logan won’t kiss you. He keeps his promise—you hate how determined he is. 

“Not even once?” you ask him one night while going over the scars on his back. You’re in his bed this time, and he has his nose buried in his pillow, moments away from dozing off. 

“No,” he answers, squirming slightly under your touch. “I’m tired. Stop doing that.”

“How did you get this one?” you trace one scar that’s close to his shoulder, resting your chin just inches from it.

He turns his face to see your eyes. “Well, I was doing Pilates, and I—Hey!” he laughs when you pinch the skin near his ribs, tickling him. “I don’t even remember. Must’ve got it a long time ago.”

“Did it hurt?” it’s a dumb question, but he doesn’t mention it.

His index finger grazes your cheek, and he chuckles at the way your eyelids flutter. “In the past, they all did. But not anymore,” he replies, though you wish you could believe him. You know he’s in pain most days. That when he goes down on you, and he’s on his knees for too long, he has trouble standing up without cursing. That no amount of alcohol, or his healing ability, helps him with it.

You kiss each of his scars before curling against his side, brushing your nose against his. “And now?” your eyes fall to his lips, silently hoping he’ll say Yes.

Instead, he sighs. “I think we should go to sleep.”

So despite the lack of kisses, the miscommunication, and the fact that he won’t fuck you even though you know—you feel—he wants to, things are good between you. Charles notices it, openly expressing his recent realization.

“He looks happier, doesn’t he?” the old man says after winning two games of chess in a row, startling you. 

“Logan, you mean?”

“Yes, my dear.”

You glance down at the board, fidgeting with the pieces. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he parrots your previous words, raising an eyebrow in doubt. “Look at me,” he says, and as you do it, he points a shaky finger toward your neck. “I assume mosquitos have taken a liking to you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, your hand flying up to cover the hickey you had completely forgotten about in the first place. “Charles, I’m—“

“Are you happy?” he interrupts you, and you nod, because you are. 

A nagging thought lingers at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’re asking for too much, but it still feels like something’s missing.

One morning, you accidentally overhear a conversation between them. The door of the tank is ajar, and right before you step inside, you recognize Logan’s voice in the distance.

“Charles, I’m fine, alright? I don’t need your advice.”

There’s a pause before Charles responds. “You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.”

Logan doesn’t say anything in response to that. And if he does, you don’t stick around long enough find out, because you’re already turning on your heel.

A poet once said: “Blowjobs are fucking amazing.”

Actually, you might be wrong. Those may not have been a poet’s words, but your best friend Keira’s from high school. You remember the sleepovers at her place—she had a boyfriend at the time, a boy she had met at a party you hadn’t been invited to. 

“Welcome to blowjobs 101,” she had declared one night, holding a hairbrush like a microphone. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll tell you everything you need to know when the moment comes.”

Luckily, many years later, that moment arrived.

Just ten minutes ago, you were cooking dinner, sniffling back tears while chopping onions, so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Logan was already home. He tossed his keys onto the table, hugging you from behind seconds later. You leaned back against his chest, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, his lips planting soft kisses wherever they could.

“How was work?” you dropped the knife, wiping your tears as you turned to face him, throwing your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you in tighter by the waist, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Hell, as usual,” he looked into your eyes, finding them all glossy. “You miss me so much you started crying?”

Of course, you didn’t talk about it—but words aren’t the only ones who can convey meaning.

You’re not sure how, but one thing led to another, and now you’re on your knees, Logan’s cock filling your mouth. Your lips, swollen and red, suck hard at his tip, pulling the foreskin back, and his hips jerk deeper into your throat. “That’s it, fuck. Doin’ so good.”

Your movements are far from graceful. As a matter of fact, it’s all too sloppy and desperate. Saliva drips down your chin, some of it coating his balls, and you fondle them at the same time you bob your head. Keira’s advice plays on repeat in your mind, and you pull out every trick you know to make Logan roll his eyes.

So far, you think you’re doing pretty great, judging by the way he’s gripping the back of your head.

“H-how is this your first time suckin’ cock?” he slurs, more to himself, his voice strangled as you make eye contact with him. He brushes your hair out of your face, bewitched by the sight of him disappearing into your wet mouth. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

Taken aback by his sudden confession. you involuntarily gag around him. He pulls you off his cock, not even sparing you a glance, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Wait, Logan—”

“Not now,” he mutters abruptly, withdrawing into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

But still, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

How bad is it to tell somebody you love them and then avoid them?

Yeah, it’s absolutely terrible, right? Tell that to the idiot himself—Logan Howlett.

It’s been over a week, and no matter how many times you press him for an explanation, he keeps dodging it.

Things go back to how they were before you two started fooling around, and Charles’ questions don’t take long to come: “I thought you two were getting somewhere.”

“Me too,” you admit, your voice quieter as you try to appear indifferent. You have no answer for him. Not that you don’t want to discuss your relationship problems—it’s just that you don’t know what went wrong.

When evading you isn’t enough, he works longer hours, which only adds to how little you see him. At least he lets you know if he’s going to be late, sparing you from waiting up. But apart from that, your interactions have dwindled to nothing, and it’s eating you alive.

You’re madly in love with him. You thought you knew that already, but now that he’s distant, the depth of your feelings has become clearer than ever. He’s everywhere you go, just not physically—he has conquered your mind.

And it should be funny, loving someone who used to be no more than a myth for you. Though Logan is real—maybe too real for your own good—and he hasn’t been the mutant you once read about for quite some time.

This morning, he’s having breakfast at the table when you walk into the kitchen. You hold your breath as your shoulders brush for a microsecond, his gaze following your steps. You’re no longer accustomed to sharing the same space with him, so it makes sense that you stay as far away as possible.

After an awkward silence, he stands up and mutters something about checking on Charles and giving him his meds, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s infuriating, how collected he seems. Why isn’t he miserable like you? Doesn’t he miss you? Didn’t you two have something… special?

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

The shit I’d for you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

Not now.

The memory of his words lingers, seared into your unconscious, though the sound of his phone jolts you out of your thoughts. It’s ringing beside the coffee machine, and you try to ignore it, determined to be the bigger person.

But after five minutes of the relentless ringtone echoing in the empty kitchen, you’ve had enough.

Unknown caller—interesting. What could he possibly be hiding?

Charles, you better keep that asshole busy, you think to yourself, swiping right to answer the call.

Before you can say anything, a woman’s voice fills the line.

“James! Thank God. It’s Gillian. You didn’t reply to any of my texts, and I was starting to get worried,” she lets out a giggle, the sound grating against your nerves.

As your grip on the phone tightens, your knuckles start to go white.

“Look, I know you said you weren’t available, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that ride. I didn’t see any ring on your finger, so what do you say, huh? Will you let me take you out?”

Red. You’re seeing red.

“James? Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

At last, you clear your throat. “Hey,” you greet her, pacing around the kitchen. “I’m deeply sorry, but James can’t talk right now.”

“Excuse me?” she snaps, her high-pitched voice echoing through the speakers, and you pull the device away from your ear. “This is James’ number. Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you who the fuck I am, you intolerant piece of—” before you can finish, the phone is yanked out of your hand, the call hastily ending.

There is no use in playing dumb, not when Logan’s standing right in front of you, observing you like you’re a child who’s made a severe mistake. His deep, brown eyes pierce your soul, shattering any chance you had of coming up with an excuse.

“What where you doing with my phone?” it’s the first thing he asks you, his voice still steady, the calm before the storm. Perhaps you’re not as mature as you thought you were—your forehead furrows, unwilling to back down, and you fall silent. He takes a step forward, as if he can’t believe your attitude. “Think I asked you something. Why did you answer?”

“Gillian sounds like a lovely lady. Tell her I said ‘hi’ the next time you see her,” you croak, attempting to walk past him, but he doesn’t budge, his solid frame blocking your path. You collide with his chest, and it feels like trying to move a brick wall without success.

“We’re talking. You can’t just leave.”

The nerve of this man.

“You can’t be serious,” you retort, staring at him, wishing the emotion in your tone could capture even a fraction of what you’re truly feeling. “Weren’t you the one who walked away first? After telling me you loved me?” you search for any sign of the man who once held you close, but he feels miles away, hidden under all these layers that smell like cheap whiskey and gasoline. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I did. I meant every word,” he growls, his fists clenching at his sides, and you don’t miss the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles that expose the fragile façade of control he’s so desperate to maintain. “Goddamit! You’re doing that thing again!”

“What thing?” you exclaim, your mouth hanging open in frustration. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are! You’re trying to see through me, like you can read my mind.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a fucking mutant. I just have eyes, Logan,” you throw your arms up, exasperated. “People actually look at each other when they have a conversation, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

“And you are testing mine,” you rest your back against the table, raising your chin. “So, who is she?”

Logan drops his shoulders, slamming his eyes shut. “I drove her once, last week. It was a long ride and she… wouldn’t stop talking. Didn’t shut up for a single second. She hit on me, but I told her I’m off the market.”

“Why? ‘Cause she talked too much?”

“No. Because I love you,” he says, pure awe transforming his expression, like he doesn’t believe he has said it out loud. “I don’t know when I started feeling like this, or if I’ve always felt it, but—I do. I love you.”

Oh.

You had heard those words slip through his lips before, but now they sound different. It might be that keeping him at arm's length has felt like death by a thousand cuts, or perhaps it’s the realization that this is the first time someone’s declaring their love for you.

Fuck. He loves you. As in, he’s in love with you?

“Then why do you keep running?” you edge closer to him, your eyes trained on his. “I’m done with the chase, Logan. It’s tiring—I am tired. I’ve been sleeping like shit, trying to figure out what—”

His arms surrounding your body, cutting you off and pulling you close. The hammering of his heart matches yours, and you return the hug, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

You fear that this might be all you’ve ever needed, feeling as if the pieces he took from you in the past are finally falling back into place. Logan holds you as if in a past life he lost you, but now, he’s decided to never let you go.

This profound sense of completeness, of being where you’re meant to be, makes you realize you’ve found home in the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m sorry. This… this scares me, alright?” he murmurs next to your ear, raking his fingers through your hair. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel anymore. That’s what I’m running from—the part of me I thought was gone. But you… you brought it back.”

You feel a deep urge to curl up and cry, wondering why on earth he would ever think he was unworthy of being cared for. “Logan, I…”

“I sound pathetic, I know. It sounded way better in my head.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you retreat a bit, looking him in the eye. He stares down at you with a tenderness you’ve never seen before. “It’s not pathetic to voice how you feel. I want to know it all, want to know everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. But I need you to promise me that you won’t run away anymore. I know it’s difficult, but it’s not fair to any of us.”

His eyes peer directly into yours, and he gives a nod. “I promise to do my best,” he presses your foreheads together, and that’s when his mouth turns into a grin. “You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, gripping your waist. “Come on, I said it first. Twice, for the record.”

Lifting your shoulders in a half-shrug, you find it hard to conceal your smile. “I may need a bit more convincing.”

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

Before you know it, his lips are on yours, almost making you lose your balance. You whimper into his mouth, tightening your arms around his neck as his tongue wastes no time in finding yours, stroking it sensually. The wait had been definitely worth it—you’d do everything all over again if it meant having him kiss you like this at the end of the day.

He tilts your face so that he can deepen the kiss, and a whine gets caught in your throat when his fingers pull gently at the hair at your nape, nibbling at your bottom lip. 

“I love you, too. Very much, to be honest,” you blurt out against his mouth, pleased with the way he laughs at your reaction, squeezing your hips. “But I still have some ideas in mind.”

“I’m all ears.”

Here goes nothing. “Fuck me like I’ve been asking you to,” you cup his cheeks, guiding his lips into yours one more time. “Please,” you mewl, standing on your tiptoes. “Want you to be my first.”

If it were up to you, you would’ve begged him to take you right there on the kitchen floor. But Logan, ever the gentleman, insists on moving things to his room. Each of his movements is slow, igniting your skin with a burning heat, leaving his name imprinted where his teeth sink into your soft flesh.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear by the time he murmurs: “Let me take my time with you,” trailing his lips down your chest, your stomach, until he’s planting several kisses along your ankle. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, baby. Look at you.”

Under his gaze, you feel shy, your eyes snapping to the ceiling instead. “Shut up,” you say, tugging at his shirt to undress him, your fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen before you pull him into a bruising kiss, sucking on his tongue.

He strips out of his black slacks and hovers over you, his clothed cock grinding against your throbbing core, eliciting a moan from both of you. “So goddamn beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine,” his tip grazes your entrance through the fabric, making your toes curl in ectasy. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I swear.”

At first, he’s extremely careful, making sure to stretch you out with his fingers while you stroke him, pumping your fist to match his rhythm. “Keep that up and this’ll be over sooner than expected,” he warns, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

It doesn’t happen like it does in the books or movies. No foreplay could’ve prepared you for the moment he enters you. You move clumsily beneath him, your nose bumping into his forehead as he eases the first inch of his length inside.

For a moment, you’re not certain which hurts most: the dull ache in your nose or the way he’s splitting you open. 

Logan freezes, his eyes wide in concern. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?” His hand cradles your face as he props himself up on one forearm, pushing your hair back while you adjust to his size. You laugh despite the sting, and he wipes away your tears with his thumb. “You’re laughing?”

“I’m just happy,” you manage to get through the lump in your throat, raking your nails down his back, feeling the rough texture of the scars beneath your fingers. “I love you. Since that day at the bar, I—” you pause for a second, gasping at the sudden wave of pleasure when he twitches inside you. “I’ll always l-love you. Forever.”

As you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him you’re ready, something inside him shifts. He feels like a madman, his eyes fixed on your face the whole time, searching for any hint of discomfort, though he occasionally glances down at the place where your bodies meet and become one, entranced by the sight of you taking him in, slick coating his length. 

Your heels dig into his lower back, pulling him back to the present—back to you, with your pretty tits bouncing each time he pistols his hips, the intensity of his thrusts increasing.

“All those times you took care of me, when you—Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw to regain some of his composure, his humid breath dampening your skin. Your scent drives him wild, and he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You made me feel loved when no one else did. My girl, love you so f-fucking much.”

His pace is nothing more than a voiceless testament to everything he feels but can’t find words to express.

With each minute that passes, your dripping cunt grips him tighter and tighter, his thrusts losing finesse. He needs you to come first—why does he feel like a virgin?

When you tell him you’re close, the world around him turns into a musical. You cling to the sheets, the mattress creaking noisily as he clutches the headboard, determined to find that angle that will push you over the edge. “That’s it, sing for me,” Logan mutters from above, hypnotized by the crease forming between your brows. “Come on, let go.”

Time seems to slow down as your muscles tense and you clamp around him, your body sagging against him. His name spills from your lips in breathy whimpers, like an endless prayer, and your mouth engulfs his, tongues and teeth clashing in a fevered kiss.

Soon after that, he surrenders to the coiling tension deep within him, pulling out just in time to stroke himself once, twice, before emptying his hot load across your mound. You gently thumb the head of his cock, coaxing out every last drop of his hot seed. He’s panting as he comes down from his high, his brain foggy and blissfully blank for a while. 

Logan loses track of how many times he tells you he loves you—he does it when he pulls you into his chest, when his lips press against your temple, and when you crack that smile, the one that resembles the very purpose of his existence.

“So this is what it feels like,” his voice sounds low like a murmur near your ear, and you stir, half-asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, baby. I was just thinking aloud.”

You don’t have to talk about it, at least not now. Deep down, he knows that whatever thoughts run through his mind will somehow find their way into yours.

This is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.

And God, is he feeling it.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[lecsainz]

Hi can you please do one about the Travis and Taylor rumours going around. Maybe like your Taylor’s sister dating Travis secretly for awhile now and your pregnant. And like the Taylor concert he went to he was like there with you and the football that Taylor went to she was like there with you. And it all comes out that he’s with you and not Taylor and they find out your pregnant and all and are so shocked and didn’t see it coming. Like if that makes sense 🙂

EVERYONE WAS WRONG

parings: travis kelce + swift!reader

author 🗒️’s: I missed writing smau 😭

summary: where you are taylor swift sister and there’s something with travis but everyone thinks he and taylor are dating.

✩. . . masterlist !

liked by selenagomez, icespice and 1.989.073 others

ynswift can I say I'm cheating on the eagles?

tag: @/taylorswift @/chiefs

see all 65.638 comments

taylorswift still can't believe you made me come to this game

⤷ ynswift didn't force you at all!

user6 love seeing the swift sisters together

killatrav It was nice meeting you, y/n

⤷ ynswift likewise, kelce

⤷ killatrav hope to see you girls at the next game

⤷ ynswift I need to check my schedule

user1 y/n being the cupid of tayvis

user Is it confirmed that taylor and travis are together???

⤷ user4 I think so

user2 she it's me in life: the friend who always couples people up

user5 andrea, please adopt me to be their sister!

⤷ ynswift mom said she'd adopt!

⤷ user5 OH MY GOD

philadelphiaeagles no comments

⤷ ynswift I swear we still loyal to your team

user7 I want a tayvis photo, make it happen y/n!

loading more comments . . .

Y/N and Travis had met during a The Eras concert, what seemed like a normal show turned into something entirely different. Y/N didn't expect it until she literally ran into this 6'5'' tall man. He was so much taller than her that she couldn't help but feel incredibly drawn to the unknown man, so much so that she forgot how to speak when he asked if she was okay.

Travis found the blonde girl utterly charming and just had to ask for her number. However, instead of getting her number, he received a polite but firm "no." That piqued the curiosity of the Kansas City Chiefs' tight end. With determination, he approached one of the security guards to inquire about the mysterious blonde girl. After a bit of investigating, he finally discovered that she was Y/N Swift, the younger sister of the famous Taylor Swift.

Travis couldn't help but be intrigued by this revelation. He felt compelled to get to know Y/N better, despite the initial rejection. It took him over a week to gather the courage to send her a direct message. When he did, he invited her to an Eagles game, which he later learned was the Swift family's favorite team, and having her older brother on the team made it easier to secure a private suite for their date.

As the two of them spent more time together, a genuine connection began to form. Y/N was captivated by Travis's charisma and his down-to-earth personality, something she hadn't experienced with anyone in a long time. Travis, on the other hand, was smitten with Y/N's intelligence, warmth, and her unique ability to make him forget about the pressures of the football field.

One date led to another, and before they knew it, they were deeply involved in a relationship that neither had anticipated. Their connection was electric, and they couldn't get enough of each other's company.

As the days turned into weeks and then into months, Y/N and Travis's bond grew stronger. They had shared dreams, inside jokes, and an unspoken understanding that went beyond the public eye. But their connection was shrouded in secrecy, as Y/N didn't want to overshadow her sister's fame and success.

Despite their efforts to keep things private, the media eventually caught wind of their relationship. Reports began to circulate, with speculations of a romance between Travis and Taylor Swift, not Y/N. The rumors hurt Y/N, as it seemed like her own life would always be overshadowed by her sister's immense fame.

Little did she know that amidst the media frenzy and the complications of their secret relationship, she would find herself facing an unexpected twist of fate – she was pregnant with Travis's child.

As days turned into weeks, Y/N couldn't keep the secret any longer. She knew she needed to tell Travis about the life-changing news, despite the fear and uncertainty that loomed over her. She had never been in a situation like this before.

One evening, she decided it was time to confide in Travis. With her heart pounding, she went to his house, her mind filled with thoughts of how he might react. Would he be overwhelmed? Would he want to be a part of this?

Travis opened the door and smiled warmly at her, inviting her in. Y/N took a deep breath and began, "Travis, there's something I need to talk to you about, something important."

Travis's expression shifted from curiosity to concern. "What's going on, Y/N? You look serious."

Y/N took a deep breath and began, "Travis, there's something I need to tell you. It's not easy, and we didn't plan for this, but..." She paused, her eyes glistening with emotion, "I'm pregnant."

For a few seconds, there was silence. Travis processed the information, and his eyes filled with a mix of emotions, but he didn't look away from Y/N. Then, a gentle smile crossed his face. "Y/N, are you serious? We're going to be parents?"

Y/N nodded with a soft smile. "Yes, Travis. I'm pregnant."

Travis leaned in closer, his face filled with emotion. "That's incredible! I can't believe it. I'm going to be a dad."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she saw his genuine excitement. "I'm so glad you're happy, Travis. I was worried about how you'd react."

Travis took her hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes. "Y/N, I couldn't be happier. This is a beautiful surprise, and I'm looking forward to this journey with you. We'll figure everything out together."

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. She couldn't believe how supportive Travis was being. "Travis, you have no idea how much this means to me. I was so afraid to tell you."

Travis took her hand and said, "Y/N, I care about you more than I can express. In fact, there's something I've been wanting to ask you for a while now." He got down on one knee, pulling a small box from his pocket. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?"

Y/N's eyes welled up with tears of joy as she nodded and replied, "Yes, Travis, a thousand times, yes."

liked by taylorswift, annehathaway and 23.366.133 others ynswift & killatrav you said I do and I did too

comments have been limited

taylorswift so happy for you both 🤍 and travis you better take good care of my little sister!

austinkingsleyswift congrats sis!

jason.kelce finally, you guys announced it! I couldn't stand not being able to talk about it anymore. congratulations lovebirds!

chiefs welcome to chiefs family y/n!

donnakelce I'm so happy to have you in the family now y/n! 💕

[arimanhwa]

SOFT SPOT !

Pairings: Alhaitham x reader

Summary: Alhaitham thought having a soft spot for her was a bad thing.

Warnings: implied pining mentioned (?), grammar errors, more

A/n : my first time writing this man, so I apologize if his ooc and also for kaveh ( omg kaveh cupid era??!!)

Note ; I'm sorry this took long 😭 and dividers by @/cafekitsune

You're here | II. | III.

He knew having a soft spot for her was a bad idea, but he often found himself diverted by her presence. The prideful Haravatat scholar was absolutely smitten by her yet he was too afraid to approach. The scribe's roommate, Kaveh was witnessing the ever prideful alhaitham being deeply lovesick for the girl who stole his heart ever since the day they meet.

Alhaitham, akademiya's grand scribe was too afraid to approach [name]. Kaveh took the matter in his own hands and friended her, which to the scribe's dismay, he would tease him every single day whenever he saw how puppy dog the 'stoic scribe' can be. As always them arguing back and forth, "Oh pls, don't act how smitten you look around her." Kaveh gaze at him with disbelief look but alhaitham seems unfazed by the look given towards him. "It's none of your business, kaveh." Sumeru's renowned architect just tsk'd and look away from him. Other than that, [name] [L/n], under Vahuma, architect's friend Wonders why the Kshahrewar male wanted to be friends with her.

FLASHBACK

A few days ago, [name] doing her presentation for history outside the akademiya too concentrated to notice kaveh approaching. "Boo." Whispered her senior in her ears, causing her to startle while it made the presentation fall on the ground, She lift the project from the dirty ground and gaze at a senior who step away after he did a scare.

A little curiosity could be seen on his junior's face, even minutes pass by, both stared at each other. Not saying a single world until kaveh finally spoke cutting off the awkwardness.

"do you need anything, kaveh-san?"

"Maybe a certain scholar does, but this guy is afraid to approach, what a coward. Hmph." Kaveh Mumbles the last part. "But anyways, do you wanna be friends?"

[Name] blinks, processing what was said. Then regained herself after and respond back, "Oh I see, alright, is that all?" She asked him in questioning manner that he nods. "And I would be glad to be your friend."

That made kaveh grin and wave a goodbye.

FLASHBACK END

She sighs, continuing where she left on, which is studying for history. Meanwhile on the other side of the akademiya sits alhaitham reading a book alongside him is the senior kshahrewar. "So when is this pining of yours gonna work or when will you start" he sighs. "You know, if you don't act now. Someone is gonna steal [name] from you."kaveh look at the man who was reading.

Yet clearly, he was listening to what the blonde male said in silence.

© Arimanhwa , ✩ !! - All rights reserved.

[tyunphoria]

🌪️two shots of espresso, three shots to the heart — h.hyunjin (pt.1)

- - - - -

⚠️NSFW CONTENT⚠️

- - - - -

camboy!hyunjin x barista!reader

SYPNOSIS: your best friend/co-worker worries about your sad, single, life-style. he suggested a — quote-un-quote — ‘dating site’ but it turned out to be an adult streaming website. you accidentally stumbled upon a streamer who went by the user @SnowFerret320 while trying to close the tab. SnowFerret also happened to be living next door.

INCLUDES: reader with she/her pronouns, best friend wooyoung, SMUT , SLOW-BURN, hyunjin being down bad for y/n, y/n being down bad for snow ferret and practically donating her whole bank account towards his streams, y/n having a thing for hyunjin’s hands, y/n being oblivious to the fact hyunjin’s snowferret for the sake of the plot.

eventually turns into FWB on later parts.

WARNINGS: voyeurism (obvi), alcohol intake, use of toys, reader getting off on his streams, hyunjin being somewhat of a perv?, pet names, praise, degradation, hand kink, voice kink, dirty talk, mentions of obsessive tendencies(?).

wc: 7.8k

! ! THIS IS PART 1 OF THE ‘TWO SHOTS OF ESPRESSO, THREE SHOTS TO THE HEART’ SERIES. ! !

✩

  "Woo..." you sigh, squinting down at the nearly illegible writing on the paper.

Twisting it this way and that, frustration creases your brow as the words continue to swim and blur together.  

"Your handwriting... is so ass," you mutter.

Wooyoung snatches the paper back, waving it in front of your face with a mischievous grin. "harmonymatch.com," he explains, "It's a dating site.  It'll help you get laid." 

You roll your eyes at his suggestion as you change into your work uniform and tie on your apron.  Glancing back at Wooyoung, you give him an unimpressed look. “Tinder, yubo, elitesingles… Those are all the sites you recommended. Wanna know what they all have in common?” you list, pretending to tap your cheek in thought. “oh yeah—they never worked out!” 

“Then keep digging till you find yourself a fine hunk.” Woyoung’s matchmaking efforts often caused more trouble than help. You’ve tried out multiple dating sites and in every single one of them they turned out to be a catfish or just some weirdo looking for sex.

“You’re more invested in my love life than I am.” You shook your head.

“Well,” Wooyoung starts, draping an arm across your shoulder, “that’s what cupid Woo is here for. Let your dear best friend take care of it.” His corny charisma brought a small smile to your face. As irritating as he can be, you somehow appreciate his efforts. Underneath the misguided meddling, he just wants you to be happy, and you know that.

He playfully leans all his weight on you followed by a dramatic sigh. “Like, seriously. You’re in your fossil era and yet you’re still a virgin. What’s the point in living then?”

“I’m not a virgin!” You huffed as your knees buckled under his weight, “my first time just wasn’t… ideal. And you know the people I’ve dated in the past never worked out. Whenever I think the relationship’s going great, they block and ghost me forever.”

“Maybe if you stopped being colour blind and see the red flags then maybe your relationships will work out.” He scoffed. “And your first time didn’t even count; that jackass lasted three minutes and passed out right after. Hence, making you still a virgin—“

He’s cut off by someone clearing their throat. You both turned to see a man standing there with a tight smile on his lips.

“Can I order?” His voice sounded so smooth and languid as you flushed and shoved Wooyoung off of you.

“Of course,” you stammer, “what can I get for you?”

The man—with slightly tousled dark hair that fell perfect across his forehead—his handsome gaze found lingering on yours, making your heart skip. As he paid, he flashed you another smile which caused his eyes to disappear into beautiful crescent moons. 

After he leaves, Wooyoung nudges you teasingly. “Looks like you and pretty boy were having a moment.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Wait, there’s a term for it nowadays… eye-fucking, I think?” He cackled.

You shove him one last time before making your way to the back with reddened cheeks. Even though you most likely won’t see that man ever again, had he heard you and Wooyoung’s awkward sex talk? Hell, how long was he standing there for? 

“That was so embarrassing…”

✩

You looked at your phone to check what time it was. 11:46 p.m, it read.

“I don’t have classes tomorrow,” you slumped in your seat, “might as well start on that term paper.”

Although it was pretty late, you just couldn’t find yourself sleeping anytime soon. For some reason, your mind just worked better at night. Moving over to the bed,  you took your laptop resting the device on your lap as you leaned against the headboard. 

The deadline seemed far away yet your motivation came in bursts. An hour into typing, distraction felt closer than focusing. Laying the laptop aside, you shifted to your left to turn out the lamp so you could finally ease into the stillness of the night. On the nightstand, you spotted the paper Wooyoung gave you earlier.

“He gave me a shit ton of these already,” you sighed as you took the paper, “let’s see what this one’s about.”

You typed in the website on your browser and waited for it to load. In all honesty, you just wanted to check it out to see what kind of dating site it was this time. No talking to weirdass strangers, no nothing. Just something to distract your mind at that moment. You glanced over to your right to grab an extra pillow for your sore and aching neck but when you looked back at your laptop, you were met with something unexpected.

The screen was filled with adult streamers. With their privates on full display.

“What the fuck ?!” You instinctively shut your burning eyes, trying to direct the cursor to close the damn tab.

However, much to your luck, you accidentally clicked on a random streamer, seeming as though the live had just only started.

Slowly, you fluttered your eyes open and watched as the guy came in view and sat on his chair in front of the camera. He was wearing a mask, obviously, a white mask that only shows half of his face. What caught your attention was his gaze… he was staring at the camera, almost intensely, looking relaxed as he leaned back on his chair while the nail of his thumb caught between his teeth gnawing at it. 

A calm electricity seemed to pulse from his stare, as if he were actually capturing your gaze and holding it captive. You gulped, fingers twitching and urged for you to close the tab but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

The suit he wore drew your eyes curiously—a tailored midnight blue with the blazer resting lightly on his sculpted shoulders, providing fleeting glimpses of the bare skin beneath. His only half-buttoned black shirt glistened as beads of sweat trickled down his dampened chest. 

A small smile played on his lips as he brought his hand lower. “So…” he started with such a tone of voice, one that almost made you melt, “what were we talking about in the last stream again?” 

He adjusted himself and leaned closer to the computer screen. “Ah, yeah,” a sultry laugh slips past his lips. “We were talking about if you could handle me if I fucked your brains out.” The chat went crazy at that comment he made. He didn’t bother reading them as he leaned on his seat.

He spoke with his chat for a few more minutes or so, palming the tent through his pants throughout.

A couple of them were urging him to just whip it out already and you could tell he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Okay, okay… wow, you guys are pretty desperate tonight.” 

With one tug of his pants, his dick sprung up with pre-cum already dribbling down its red tip. His slender fingers wrapped around the head of his cock, the palm of his hand circling around it boredly.

“What’s my body count?” He read one of the comments while speeding up the pace of his hand.

“I—fuck… ah…” his lip twitched, sweat trickling down his temple. He bit down on his bottom lip, swirling his thumb around his tip. “Doesn’t matter… could be five, sixty, or even none… just think about how good I can fuck you…” his moans and sharp breathing filled the space of your empty apartment. With his voice the only source of sound you could hear bouncing off the walls, you could feel your eyelids growing heavy as you succumbed to the sound of total eargasm from this guy. 

could be your new favourite asmr, who knows.

His hand started to get faster with its motion, almost like he was getting bored and just wanted to get it over with. He threw his head back, Adams apple bobbing along with each flick of his wrist.  

He drew out a long whine as he licks his lips, continuing to fuck his fist.

“I bet it’d feel better if you were here… sucking my cock like my pr—ah..—precious little slut.”

“cumming…” he gulped, “cumming just for you…” With one last stutter of his hips and his abs flexing, he came. Thick ropes of come trickled down his cock and over his fingers, coating his abs in sinful pleasure as he groaned for the camera.

He swallowed a deep sigh and grabbed a couple of tissues to clean his hand. “That’s about it for tonight.” As the chat bombarded with complaints, he only ever smiled, sending a flying kiss towards the camera. “I know, I know… usually I’d stay and chat for a few more but I feel so tired. I’ll see you the next time I go live, I’ll make it up to you. Make sure to dream about me,” he drawled out.

Without even realizing it, the live had shut off and you were left sitting there with the homepage of the website on display. You were left, thinking, ‘what in the ever living fuck did I just watch?’

And the full thing at that.

“Once I get my hands on that son of a bitch Wooyoung I’ll strangle him to death.”

✩

You didn’t get any sleep. At all.

Exhausted, you dragged yourself out of bed after a sleepless night replaying that fateful stream in your head. You had barely closed your eyes when your manager called asking you to cover a shift for a sick co-worker. Great. Just what you needed. 

You sighed and tiredly grabbed your keys, limbs feeling like lead as you trudged your way outside the door. Your thoughts drifted to visions of warm blankets and a nice cup of steaming hot coffee as you shut the door — causing you to walk straight into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You muttered, looking up to see your neighbor that just moved in and settled across the hall. He did look familiar… dark hair and nice plump lips. You know you’ve seen them before.

Then it hit you—he was the guy at the coffee shop yesterday.

He reached out instinctively and placed steadying hands on your arms as you lightly stumbled. His touch was brief yet it made you feel at ease. He placed a warm smile on his lips, releasing your arms and took a subtle step back to maintain a close yet not intrusive distance between the both of you.

“Good morning.” A quiet laugh escaped his lips. The sound resonates deep within you, stirring something in your mind you could not yet place.

God, he was so beautiful. More gorgeous than any model you’ve seen. 

You merely nodded, still caught in the warmth of his eyes and the comfort of his smile. “Good morning.” You greeted back, nearly breathless.

When the elevator doors opened, you both stepped in as you awkwardly stood next to him. You hit the button to the ground floor, trying to subtly glance at the handsome man beside you. His all-black outfit did little to conceal his athletic build. The turtleneck compression shirt hugged his torso beautifully, accentuating his broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. A duffle bag sat casually at his feet.

His eyes met yours briefly and you swore you saw the way his lips tugged up into a cocky smile. Shit, were you caught checking him out?

He took note of your slightly disheveled form. “Rough night?” He couldn’t help but say, attempting to break the uncomfortable silence that engulfed the area. “Sorry. Not in that way. You just seemed to be in a daze is all.”

Your cheeks flushed as you cleared your throat. “You have no idea…” you say, slightly embarrassed.

He laughed, running his fingers along his hair before he wore a black cap on. 

“Yeah, me too.”

- - - -

“Good morning, noona! Did you check out the site I recommended—“

“Wooyoung, you lil’ shit!” With gritted teeth, you smacked the back of his head. “You didn’t tell me it was a fucking porn site!”

“Glad you liked my surprise, noona.” He pouted. “So? How was it?”

You can’t confirm nor deny that you enjoyed it. It was… something new beyond your usual comfort. Do people actually spend their time watching that stuff? In all honesty, you get it. Some people have a weekly favourite drama, youtuber, or whatever, and some have their favourite camperson. You felt more curious than judgment if anything.

Did you stay and watch the whole thing? Yes, you did. Why did you? Mere curiosity though was increasingly uncomfortable. Did you enjoy it? Hell no.

Now, let’s play a game of two lies and a truth.

Whatever. Pretend last night never happened and focus, y/n.

✩

@SnowFerret320.

That was his username on harmonymatch. 

According to your friend, Aya, who is strangely familiar with broadcasting jockeys when it came to porn, he goes live once a week every Friday at exactly 11:40 at night.

“You’re telling me this, why?” You asked her.

“Personally, I like @Quokka940 better, I used to watch him when I was still single, but Ferret’s totally your type! Give his streams another chance.”

It’s been a busy week. you’ve been working part time at the cafe but also juggling to write the term paper.

In truth, you’ve been procrastinating.

Your upperclassman, Chan, always scolded you for having that shitty aspect but you only seemed to find motivation last minute. You just haven’t been doing so great lately and it took a huge toll on your stress levels.

You halted the way your fingers danced along the keyboard to crack your knuckles. “Okay. Thirty minute break time.” You concluded after only working for ten minutes, or even less. You glanced at the clock, 11:50.

‘It’s been ten minutes since his stream started…’

You shook your head, eyes widening.

‘Why the fuck would I care?’

“…”

You stared at your own reflection on the black screen of your laptop. 

Then you suddenly found yourself typing the name of the site. 

“I think I’m going batshit insane.” 

You’re only doing this so you could feed your curiosity, you kept reminding yourself. You finally made an account and went by the user @treasure006987.

“Oh? Is that so?” The man who went by ‘Ferret’ sat on his gaming chair, pristine white shirt unbuttoned with a light sheen of sweat on his chest. You watched him lick his lips as he unzipped his pants. “A lot of you are saying you had a bad week…” he stuck out his bottom lip as your breath hitched. “How about I take care of you?”

He dipped his hand into his pants and pulled out his pretty cock. “Just follow my lead…” he continued to roll his fist around the tip, squeezing some lube on his erect cock. “Why don’t you take that off and spread your legs for me, baby… yeah, just like that,” he gulped, squelching sounds echoing in your room as he fucked his fist. 

“So pretty… such a pretty baby… go on and suck your fingers… get them all nice and wet.” An odd feeling of a heavy weight settles in the pit of your stomach as you catch yourself rubbing your thighs together. “Rub your slick all over your hole for me—yeah, just like that.”

You tucked your lower lip between your teeth before you finally reached into your panties, fully succumbing to the growing sensation. Your fingers flicked on your swollen clit, collecting your slick before stuffing your cunt with your fingers. 

“Oh,” he groaned, his voice getting breathier, lower, sexier. “Fuck yourself on your fingers. Bet it’s still not enough, huh? Bet my fingers would stretch you out so fucking good. Too bad there’s a screen that separates us. I bet you can’t help but wish I could be there with you.” He now used both of his fists and bucked into them. He snapped his hips faster, your fingers urged to move in time with his thrusts.

You let your eyes fall shut, his moans had you spiraling. While you flicked on your sensitive bud, you heard a choked moan and as you cracked your eyes open, he hunched over the camera as he reached his orgasm, followed by the soak of your sheets.

Ferret fell silent for a few minutes, all you can hear is his labored breathing. He cleaned himself with napkins before letting out a chuckle.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

The chat explodes with nothing but positive (and horny) feedback. His eyes skimmed through the comments, but the top donors grabbed most of his attention.

@sincerely_yourstruly donated 70$: “again! again!”

“Again?” He laughed. “I don’t know if I could handle another one… you were so good for me, just thinking about you fucking yourself made me nearly cum in just two seconds.”

@badbitchnala donated 37$: “come onnnnn, pleeeaaassseee?”

@halahalamf donated 53$: “when are you finally gonna use sex toys:(“

@purpsjiminipewbs donated 90$: “would you still love us if we were all worms”

He thanked all his donors, answering their questions or comments, no matter how random they are. ‘I’m gonna regret this.’ You frowned, hesitantly reaching for your touchpad. ‘What am I doing, someone please slap some sense into me right now…’

@treasure006987 donated 150$: “glad i stumbled across your stream… you’re so pretty, can’t wait for the next time you go live.

You cringed at your own comment, exhaustion clouding your mind from such an unholy activity to think of something more original and less corny.

He could be seen squinting his eyes at his monitor. “Aww…” he smiled, “well aren’t you the sweetest thing… you new here, Treasure?”

Your heart skipped, him merely acknowledging your existence brought a giddy smile on your face. “Thanks for the donation! Hope you stick around longer, I promise I’ll be worth your while.” Bringing himself further from the camera once more, he lazily stroked his dick, thumb swirling around the leaking tip as he brought his middle and index before it slipped between his fingers. Your heart swelled in your throat at his next words.

“See this, precious? All for you… all for my Treasure.”

✩

Wooyoung recently introduced an app called Shemu. Another one of those online-shopping megastores that offers everything in such an affordable price by luring people in with the use of pyramid scheming.

“Just another Tein knock-off, they’re probably stealing my personal information as we speak.” You said as you proceeded to add more useless shit to your cart and check-out.

But somehow, your packages always get washed up on address no. 562. You’re 561.

As you ponder this oh-so frustrating predicament, a knock sounds at the door. You opened it to find your neighbor standing there with your latest Shemu package in hand. 

“Hi.” He chuckled.

You groaned, running your hand down your face as you leaned against the door frame. “God, I really am sorry about this, mister…”

“Just call me Hyunjin,” he waved his hand dismissively. “And it really is no trouble. Y/n, right?”

“How’d you know my name?”

Hyunjin fell silent for a few seconds before he cleared his throat. “Well, given that this is the fifth package of yours I’ve received this week, it'd be concerning if I hadn’t known your name by now.” He smiled as you flushed in embarrassment.

“Right! Sorry, and I tried taking care of it, I swear, but every time I rang the courier service they passed me off to different departments…”

Hyunjin hummed in understanding, chewing on his thumbnail while looking down at you as you tried to avoid his piercing gaze. “Don’t worry, I know how terrible that company’s customer service is.” You nodded, gnawing nervously on your left cheek.

As Hyunjin observed you, he can’t help but play a smirk on his lips. ‘She looks so cute like this… makes me wanna pinch her cheeks..’

“How about I help you sort this out, yeah?” He offered. “I can call the courier service for you.”

You blinked, trying to process his words.

“Oh—yeah! Yeah… of course, um, come in,” you opened the door wider, kicking your jacket that was on the floor aside.

“Want anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

You both sat down as he dialed the number for the service. It only took a couple of rings for them to pick up. 

“Hello! You’ve reached customer service at LaserDeliveries Korea. How may I help you?”

“Hi!” Hyunjin started off with a charming greeting as he comfortably leaned back on the chair. “Hope I’m not taking up too much of your precious time. Anyhow, I’ll just get straight to the point,” he smiled, standing up and bringing the phone to his ear. “I am a valued customer who’s sick of your shit tactics for customer service. I’m honestly kinda fed up, you know?

“I hope you don’t mind, you’re free to end the call of course, but I am going to start screaming right in your ear.”

You looked at him, dumbfounded. Is—is he serious? “Um… Hyunjin, I think I can take over—“

“However, if you do wish for me to calm down, I suggest putting me on line with your supervisor right now.” He looked at you, mouthing: ‘I’ll be back’ before stepping out of your apartment.

You blinked. Then blinked again. Your mouth felt dry, genuinely speechless. You clutch the glass between your hands, trying not to let out a fit of chuckles.

After what felt like eternity, Hyunjin finally came back and placed the phone on the table and switched it to speaker. 

“….yes, hello, this is the department manager speaking. I’d first like to formally apologize for the inconvenience….”

- - - -

“I seriously can’t thank you enough, hyunjin.” You smiled gratefully, giving his arm a gentle pat. “I owe you one, let me make it up to you somehow.”

Hyunjin considers for a moment. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned over and lightly brushed his lips against your ear. “How about a date?”

That unexpected question caught you off guard, briefly leaving you speechless as it made your words catch in your throat. “Uh—“

“Kidding!” 

You returned his smile, laughing awkwardly yourself. Some part of you still hoped it wasn’t a joke. “How about a free iced-americano then?” He must’ve already known that you were one of the baristas in that small coffee shop nearby.

“Oh, you really don’t have to—“

“No, really, I insist.” You wanted to at least repay his thoughtfulness somehow considering he went through all that trouble screaming in someone’s ear just to fix your package issue.

Hyunjin took your hand and gave it an appreciative squeeze. “Free iced americano it is.”

You exchanged your goodbyes as he stepped back into his apartment. He plopped himself down on his bed, snatching his mask from the nightstand as he brought it up to fiddle with and observe. “Dumbass, why’d you do that?” Hyunjin groaned and rolled over to his side. “The packages were the only excuse you had to talk to her,” He exclaimed

Why should it matter? He’s getting worked up over nothing. Hyunjin thought back to your surprised and flustered reaction when he jokingly suggested you both go on a date. It was cheesy, stupid, but you were so cute he just couldn’t help it!

After he finishes his gym sessions with Changbin, he’d drop by the cafe you worked at and order the same drink over and over again. Everytime your fingers would brush against his when handing him his cup, he swore one day he may lose his composure.

Receiving your packages has given Hyunjin the first chance to speak with you personally. Of course, he just had to ruin it. 

The first time your package showed up at his doorstep, he didn’t bother reading the label and opened it. Just some milk frother and a few cups, he was pretty confused at first until he read the label. There were also a few make-up products but one item caught his attention specifically:

A lipstick vibrator.

“Ha… I didn’t think she’d turn out to be the naughty type… speaking of, do I still have it?” Yes, he stole it, and yes, it was necessary. Did he have some self-restraint, god no.

It was sitting in his dresser as he placed a battery inside and sat back down on his bed. He held it up and gulped. Hyunjin tried using toys before, it just wasn’t his thing. It didn’t feel as good as the real thing or his hands. 

“Won’t hurt to try something new once in a while…” Hyunjin muttered. He brushed his thumb over the vibrator, the thought of you using it crossed his mind which made his cock twitch inside of his tight jeans. 

He swore quietly, fingers fiddling with the button of his shirt, then his zipper, lifting his hips up to shove his jeans down over his hips. 

One hand slipped inside his boxers to free himself while the other tentatively took hold of the toy again.

“God, am I a pervert now? What am I doing…” 

He grimaced at his actions and sighed. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t — none of that mattered right now when his mind was fogged with thoughts of you.

Hyunjin spat on his palm and slid it up and down on his cock a few times, shuddering at the cold and slick feeling. 

He imagined your sweet voice calling to him as he sucked in a breath, picturing you bent over in front of him, grinding your hips against his. Hyunjin swiped his thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-cum that’s beaded there and dragging it down to mix with his spit.

He can already perfectly picture what you’d look like laid out beneath him with your legs spread out and your pretty pussy on full display, all just for him. 

He switched the toy on, pressing it up against his tip as he moaned from the sudden vibration simulating his dick. 

He scoffed out a laugh followed by a low grunt. “Y/n… I found you… I finally fucking found you.” And he doesn’t intend on losing you again either.

✩ 

Wooyoung squealed, pinching your elbow. “He so wants you.”

You smacked his hand away. “Stop feeding onto my delusions, woo.”

“No no no no—okay, yeah, but listen; why else would he offer to sort out the package thing?”

“‘Cause he’s sick of it showing up at his place?” You said as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, fool. It’s a tactic men like him use as an excuse to get in someone’s pants.”

Unamused by his bullshit, yet again. You told Wooyoung everything that happened yesterday while the both of you squealed like little high school girls.

Your manager, Jihyo, had to actually pop in a few times to tell you both to shut up.

“Stop it, Woo. Don’t make me more delulu than I already am—“

He gasped, subtly trying to slap your arm to get your attention. “Noona, noona, noona—“ he whispered frantically. 

You groaned. “God, what?”

“Pretty boy alert, pretty boy alert—“

“Shit! Where?” You said, just as frantic. You glanced outside to see him approaching the shop with someone as you grabbed onto the collar of Wooyoung’s shirt. “Oh my god, Woo—“

He quickly slapped your hand away. “Don’t touch me, don’t even look at me, and don’t breathe towards my direction. Don’t wanna bring pretty boy’s hopes down, what if he thinks we’re a thing?” 

Hyunjin and the other guy he came with both enter the shop. 

He approached the counter and rolled up the sleeves of his compression shirt. “Hi, y/n.” He leaned his forearms on the counter while looking at you and, fuck, it took all your willpower to not glance down at his toned arms with veins popping attractively against his smooth skin. 

You averted your gaze with difficulty, trying to focus on taking his order. “The usual?”

“You know me so well…” he spoke in an affectionate, almost aegyo-like tone, as he slightly stuck out his bottom lip to seem more cute and charming. He propped his elbow down and rested his chin on his palm. 

“Quit it, you flirt.” His friend shoved Hyunjin away to scan the menu. You recognize him now (mainly due to his bright pink hair) – he’s Choi San from the engineering department. “We need to get back before coach returns from his bathroom break.” San rolled his eyes.

“He sits on the toilet for two hours doing god knows what, we’ll be fine.” Hyunjin replied dismissively with a single flick of his wrist.

“Whatever. Um… I’ll have a mint frappe.” 

Wooyoung suddenly hopped in the conversation and you knew that glint in his eye all too well. The look of: I’m about to drop some shit on someone and no one can stop me.

“That’s so lame. What are you, five? Mint frappe is for virgins.”

You smacked the back of his head, looking at the both of them apologetically. “It’s fine. We go to the same college so I know him.” San scoffed, “He’s all talk but the last time he pulled a bitch was when RiverDale was still good.” Wooyoung was ready to bite back but you sent him a glare which made him hold his tongue.

“Will that be all?”

“And a strawberry shortcake. Please.”

He pulled out his card and you took it gingerly, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brushed against his. You couldn’t help but take one last glance at his hands again, admiring the veins that traced subtle patterns just beneath his smooth skin. You quickly averted your eyes, worried that he may notice you literally checking him out as you ran his card through the machine before handing it back.

After you placed the cake in a bag and Wooyoung handed them their drinks, Hyunjin turned to give you a sly wink just before San ushered him away, shaking his head in mild exasperation. 

You tried to suppress the smile that rose unbidden to your lips as you watched them leave.

“He so wants you.” Wooyoung pinched your elbow.

“Shut up.”

✩

Ferret leaned forward, viewers grabbing a glimpse of the way his loose white tank top exposed his beautifully sculpted pecs before he leaned back. With pursed lips, he hummed. “Sorry to disappoint, but I won’t be doing the usual today.” The chat immediately exploded with concerns, assuming he won’t be doing anymore streams. “I have an announcement to make that I’ve been meaning to share with you all for a while now.”

@slut4u donated 100$: “NOOOO ARE YOU GONNA ANNOUNCE YOURE QUITTING?!?!?!”

That made your eyes widen. There’s no way he was quitting. He had his hand over his mouth as he scanned the chat, drawing out a long sigh to give the viewers false hope. “I’m afraid so, my little doves…” he brought his camera higher, only showing his mask. You squint your eyes. 

@treasure006987 donated 90$: “okay, hun. you can drop the act👀 what do you have up your sleeve?”

You hadn’t missed the way his eyes turned into crescents when he brought the camera higher. Ferret lowered the camera again but this time he showcased a mischievous grin. 

“Oh, sweet intelligent Treasure…” you breathed out, relaxing your tensed shoulders before coming to a realization. ‘Why the fuck was I so relieved just now?’

“Okay, fine. You caught me. I know I’ve mentioned a few times on my streams that I can’t really get off by using toys.” His fingers danced along his chest, thumb running over his nipples. He raked a hand through his hair, propping it behind his head to give you a perfect view of his muscular arm. “I decided to bend the rules a bit.”

You heard a faint buzzing sound. He tilted the camera again, showcasing the vibrator in his hand. 

“Especially since this is the second time my Treasure’s come to watch my stream… why not leave a good second impression.”

Your heart fluttered and thumped against your ribcage as you tried not to squeal like a giddy high school girl. With a knuckle caught between your teeth, you watched him roll the tip of the vibrator around the outline of his thick cock laying snug beneath his tight boxers.

“Ohhhh fuckkk…. Treasure…” he muttered, thick with arousal. “Hope you’re—ha..—hope you’re playing with yourself while I get off on you…” shit, was him focusing on only one of his viewers even allowed?

It almost felt like it was a private show, specifically made for you.

- - - 

“Came faster than I expected…” he plastered on an awkward smile as he wiped down his torso. “Still hope that you guys enjoyed it, I’m trying to step out of my comfort zone more.” You tossed the napkins you used to clean your fingers in the nearby bin. “How about this, I’ll make it up to you by staying to chat longer than I usually do. Actually – let me show you something,”

Ferret rummaged around under his desk. “I’m sharing this to give you all false hope for my upcoming streams,” he snickered, pulling out a box full of sex toys. “A friend sent me these. I’m sure you’ve heard of him; shout-out to bbokariix. Make sure to also follow his twitter; he posts NSFW asmr if you’re into that shit. Anyways, thank you riix for – uh –” he dug his hand through and pulled out something from the box. “-- for sending me a purple 16 inch dildo.”

You spat your water out, laughing.

“Along with a note that says: ‘remember to lubricate good’ — Yeah, no. I’m not shoving this shit up my ass. Sorry to disappoint.”

“What do I usually do in my free time? Well, sometimes I do art, mainly painting…” scanning his set as he rambled, you took note of the way he preferred to keep his background pretty plain and clean. Just a normal room with a white sheeted bed at the back and black painted walls, other than that there wasn’t much to look at. You propped the laptop on your lap, bringing the screen closer to inspect what was sitting on his nightstand. 

It wasn’t that you were a creepy sasaeng trying to pinpoint where his exact location was, it just happened to grab your attention. “Wait… are those the cups from our cafe?” Has he been mother fucking Hwang Hyunjin this whole time? You’re gonna feel hella dumb if he actually was. You shook your head. No way. Slim chance, there’s a million coffee shops out there and there are millions of people who just happen to like iced americanos… 

But it wasn’t just that. From his hair to his complexion, it matched Hyunjin’s; fair and almost porcelain, hair that rippled with silk and framed his features beautifully. “Nah,” you said with obvious denial, “his voice is huskier! Right? Yeah, yeah…”

“….I enjoy doing portraits. I recently painted a huge self-portrait of myself. Buuuut… I’d enjoy painting your face white with my cum more.” He winked as you choked on your spit before he moved onto another comment. He really knew his way with words… you almost forgot that this is being streamed on an adult website and not just a casual talk between a streamer and his fans on Instagram or Twitch.

“What did I eat for dinner? Hm…

“does a strawberry shortcake count as dinner?” 

You quickly shut your laptop closed and shoved it off your lap.

“No… there’s no way, right?” You laughed and planted your feet on the floor while you stood as your legs wobbled. “But he’s like… the most innocent guy you’ll meet. Or is he? Fuck, I’m going insane.”

Your rambling was cut short by the sound of your phone ringing.

“Hello?” You spoke and waited for the other line to respond back.

“Hey, girl!” Aya beamed. “You coming to that small get together at that barbecue place tomorrow night, right?”

“No—I mean, what?” You furrowed your brows. Since when was there a get-together? “No one told me about thi—“

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7, don’t forget to wear something cute cause the hot babes from engineering are gonna be there. See you, darling!”

✩

Both you and Aya arrived at the restaurant and spotted some familiar faces waving over at you. You shuffled your way to their table and claimed a vacant seat.

Chan greeted you with a hug and a small pat on the head. “Hey! Glad you guys can make it.”

“My God, barely!” Aya cried out and plopped down on the space beside you. “Y/n called me over earlier so I can help her pick out an outfit and it took her over an hour to decide on a dress.” She explained. “I got so fed up I just grabbed the closest thing next to me and shoved this bitch in my car.” Chan threw his head back and laughed heartily. His broad shoulders shook with amusement as his dimples can’t help but bring a smile to your face as well.

Your fingers tugged at the hem of your short dress, feeling as though your thighs are too exposed. “I look like a prostitute.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Aya smacked your hand away. “Stop being so conservative like a grandma attending church on a Sunday morning. This is why you’re a virgin.” Her sense of style really clashed with your more modest preferences.

“Yeah, sorry, like, my bad that I don’t wear booty shorts that ride up my crack during winter.” You rolled your eyes.

Chan took a small swig of his drink before hopping back in the conversation. “You should stop playing league of legends with Wooyoung.. You’re starting to sound like him, Aya.” The mention of Wooyoung’s name piqued your interest. His absence was unusual for group gatherings, since usually he’d be the first one there.

“Speaking of, where’s he anyway?” The others shrugged, wondering the same thing regarding the lack of Wooyoung’s loud presence. It was unlike him to miss a get-together.

“San! Over here!”

You craned your neck to greet San but the sight of a specific someone had your heart beating thunderously.

They sat themselves across from you and Chan. Aya was the first to address it,

“Who’s this hottie you brought with you? New kid from your department?”

“Nah. He’s the rookie I met at the gym weeks ago.” San nudged him to go introduce himself. His eyes flickered to yours briefly which set your tummy in a stir.

“Hello, I’m Hyunjin. I just moved here not too long ago.”

Aya suddenly gasped and slapped your thigh which drew their attention to you. “Omg, is that the sexy neighbor you’ve been telling me about—“ she whispered in your ear. You would’ve appreciated it more if she were more subtle. You slapped her thigh back, with gritted teeth you whispered “Shut up!” Your face warmed up and you were tangled with the heat of his gaze.

You took in as much of his face before he buried his nose in the menu.

- - - -

You took another swig from the soju bottle, relishing the familiar burn as the liquid slid down your throat. You felt a slight buzz coming on, a pleasant warmth spreading through your limbs. You giggled at something your classmate said, though you hadn’t really heard them properly. Your thoughts became fuzzier by the minute.

“I think that’s enough drinking for tonight.” SnowFerret — no, Hyunjin said with amusement as you tried to grab another soju but accidentally knocked it over but he instinctively caught the bottle just in time.

Chan’s brows furrowed in concern. “Man… who knew y/n is such a heavy drinker.” He scratched his cheek in thought. “Aya, can you take her home?”

Aya suddenly stood up with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m really sorry but something came up and my girlfriend needed to be picked up from her workplace.” Chan waved a dismissive hand and told her to drive safe as she kissed your drunk state on the forehead and gave Chan a quick side-hug. Before she went to go leave, she flashed you a subtle wink

Hyunjin piped in. “I can take her,” he offered. “We’re neighbors so it’s no trouble at all.” Chan looked relieved, thanking him and turned to you who still sat there in a drunken daze.

“Well, good luck mate, I think you’ll need it.”

- - - -

The elevator doors slid open and he guided you inside, letting you lean against him for support. Your breathing was slow and heavy as the effects of the alcohol continued to weigh on you. As the elevator began its ascent, he glanced down at you who had your eyes closed. The sight tugged at his heartstrings as he wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you.

“So cute…”

When the elevator reached your floor, he gently nudged you. “We’re here.” He whispered with his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. His voice sent shivers down your spine and with hazy eyes and a drunken smile, Hyunjin patted down the pockets of your dress to look for your keys till he received a text notification from San.

Choi San🗻: ‘u left her purse at the restaurant. L stoopid beetch 🍆🍑💦’

“Shit.” He muttered and unlocked the door to his apartment instead. Hyunjin gently helped you onto his bed, propping the pillows behind your back to keep you comfortable. “Wait here, I’ll get you some clothes to change into.”

“Nooo…” you whined and grabbed his collar. “Jush stay heeereee…” pulling him towards you with surprising strength for someone so intoxicated. He lost his balance and stumbled forward, forearm instinctively braced by your head on the pillow while the other found your waist.

His breath hitched as he gazed down at you, taking in your features blurred by drunkenness but still undeniably gorgeous in his eyes. Lush lips slightly parted, eyes heavy-lidded yet full of longing. An aching tenderness welled up within him, yearning to soothe the haze of intoxication with something more lasting and true.

Your arms wound around him, breaths mingled and faces only inches apart. “No? But isn’t this,” he hooked his finger under the strap of your bra, pulled it, and let it slap back against your skin. “Uncomfortable?” You arched your body into his as his words stirred up something in your brain.

You muttered something quietly. Hyunjin leaned forward and brought his face towards your neck to hear you better. “Then take it off for me, why don’t you…” you gave a soft playful giggle then patted his cheek in a patronizing way.

“Fuck, don’t say that.” He said sternly, breathless almost. His fingertips ghosted over the plush of your thigh, trailing it up your dress.

He suddenly stopped. “Sorry, um,” you whined at the lack of his warmth.

“Why’d you stop?”

“You’re drunk.” Though is it directed at you or a reminder to him?

Your thighs clenched, and he took note of that. Hyunjin didn’t wanna take advantage of you while you were still intoxicated. You can’t recall a time you’ve been this horny and it’s over your own neighbor. Your hand landed on his chest and dropped to his abdomen. “Don’t…” you slurred, feeling his firm abs underneath your fingers felt like an electric current snapping all the way to your thighs.

The alcohol then spoke for you. “I know your secret.” He cradled your cheek in his hand and ignored the way the uncomfortable tent in his pants pressed up against your leg.

“Is that so?”

You hummed. “You’re this guy… this guy I follow. He has this, um, wackass Duolingo generated name,” you snapped your fingers, trying to remember.

“Yeah?” Before he could process what was happening, your lips were suddenly on his. He made no effort to resist nor pull away as he even tugged you insistently closer. Your mouths slanted together hungrily, your other hand running up his nape and tangling in his hair. Hyunjin could taste the remnants of the alcohol on your tongue but underneath it was the unmistakable flavour of yourself — it also intoxicated him, in an entirely different way.

Yielding to the kiss, Hyunjin shifted, so that his knee was pressed up against your heat. You made a tiny noise and moaned against his lips. “SnowFerret.” He stopped and pulled back slightly to look at you.

“What?”

“You’re SnowFerret,” You repeated.

He showed no signs of surprise or discomfort despite the cat being out of the bag. He plastered on no outward reaction but his thoughts were racing along with the fast thump of his heart. “Am I now?”

There will be time for confrontation later, for now he simply savoured the intimacy of the moment. Leaning once more, he kissed you tenderly, relishing the feel of your soft lips.

One hand tangled in your hair while the other held your waist firmly against his. You grasped his shirt as your tongues fought against each other. “You’re a fan, huh… you enjoy my content, baby? You enjoy watching me fuck my own fist?” Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him impossibly closer as he softly sucked on your lower lip.

“Wanna know another secret?

“I can never stream without having you in my thoughts like a fucking plague.” Hyunjin whispered between kisses along your jaw and down your neck, leaving a trail of heat wherever his lips touched, nipping softly at your pulse point which drew a gasp from your lips. “You know,” he whispered into your skin as his thumb flicked your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of dress, sending shivers down your spine.

“I hate you for leaving me.” He caught himself before going any further as he groaned in frustration and raked his nails on the bed sheets.

Hyunjin lifted himself up to gaze into your half-lidded eyes still clouded from the alcohol. He wanted to say so much, but he knew that in your current state his words might seem confusing. That was the point. He hoped that you’d forget everything by morning.

"I hate you for making me think you'd come back.”

His thumb stroked over your lips as if tracing the curve of each syllable. "I hate you for making me so insane about everything about you, that all these years I couldn’t think of anything else but to feel these lips again.

“I even hate myself for still wanting you after all this time,” he scoffed out a laugh.

“I hate you. But good luck getting rid of me.”

a.n: ok, this isnt the ceo hyun fic i promised but yk what?

🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨💨

also, one scene inspired by the manhwa called full volume. not proofread.

[littleadaline]

Broken Record [P.G6]

Tous les mêmes by Stromae

Warnings: Angst 🤭?????

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: In my anti-Cupid era. COPE.

Part II

——————————————————————————

First occurrence:

“Pablo Páez Gavira! Your socks are on the stairs again!” You yelled out, picking up Pablo’s sweaty training socks. A few weeks after moving in together, Pablo’s habits started to worsen. Socks left and right. Shirts left and right. Unkept personal space, hair from his beard trimmer sprinkled in the bathroom sink. Every single time, an argument erupted.

“Pablo, your socks are still on the stairs. I asked you to put them away hours ago. I’ve already done laundry, I’m not doing a load just for your socks.” Your words echoed against the four walls of your room, Gavi’s focus being solely on his phone. “Oye, I’m talking to you!” You snapped your fingers at him.

“Mh, yeah. Thanks for the laundry, amor.” He said, barely looking up from his phone.

You sighed, exhausted from picking up after him. “Why do I stay?” You asked yourself.

Calling Aurora, you sobbed as you explained her brother’s behaviour.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. He’s just… a slob. Dirty dishes everywhere, dirty clothes. Tissues and towels randomly discarded. I don’t recognize the state of our home anymore. And I can’t keep cleaning for the both of us anymore, not as he undoes everything the second I’m done.”

But Aurora’s words were only excuses. She made you feel hysterical; unreasonable for feeling the way you did. She idolized Pablo’s actions, refusing to see the emotional and physical strain his behaviour had on you. Sobbing in bed, you turn away from Gavi, refusing to sleep face to face anymore.

Second occurrence:

The house was a mess. With his injury Gavi was always home. You, on the other hand, were juggling between your university classes and your internship, leading to an easier than normal exhaustion rate. Finally pulling up to your street, you prayed that Gavi had remembered to call the plumber. Opening the door, your face fell as you saw the state of the kitchen.

“Pablo…?” You called out for him.

“Gaming room.” His eyes were glued to the screen, barely greeting you as you came into the room.

“What happened in the kitchen?” You asked, a twinge of exhaustion in your voice. You were bracing yourself for one of Pablo’s nonchalant answers.

“Wanted to cook, but the dishwasher was broken. And I was too tired to do the dishes by hand. Why didn’t you tell me the dishwasher was broken?”

“Please tell me this is a joke…Pablo I told you to call the plumber, because the dishwasher is broken. The plumber goes on vacation for the next 3 weeks. That’s 3 more weeks with a broken dishwasher.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Dunno what the big deal is… You can just wash them by hand. Besides, how was I supposed to know to call him?”

“I left you a reminder on your phone, a voicemail and a handwritten note in the kitchen.” You said, slamming the door close.

Instead of catching up on the reports for your internship, you spent that night cleaning up Gavi’s culinary mess. You were finally putting away the final dishes when Hurricane Páez Gavira came and undid everything, leaving you in a state of emotional distress. “Why do I still do this?” You asked yourself.

Third occurrence:

Pablo Gavi. That was the name everyone in the media was talking about.

Gavi, rising midfielder, caught going out with a social media influencer.

Pablo Páez Gavira is simply a man.

Y/N Y/LN unable to keep her man away from other women.

Is infidelity a requirement to being a football player?

Headlines had your head spinning. Yes, Gavi has been caught going out with an influencer notorious for breaking couples. But you weren’t worried, not anymore. Your relationship was barely functioning at this point, with you and Gavi sleeping in separate rooms. In the eyes of the media, you and Gavi were still dating. But in private, you had gone from lovers to strangers in the span of a few months. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, the news stung, but something inside of your soul burst. A feeling of hope overtook you. You started packing your bags, leaving behind anything that reminded you of Gavi. After everything you had put yourself through in order to save the sinking ship that was your relationship; after the nights spent praying for a better partner, you finally had your way out. Gavi would forever be painted as the villain in your relationship, the reason why you had split, the reason why you had changed. And you didn’t mind, not one bit.

“Where are you going?” Pablo’s voice interrupted you.

“Away.” You coldly answered. He shuffled closer, picking up the hoodie he had given you for your 2nd anniversary.

“You forgot to pack this.” He handed it to you. It took a lot of self control to not smack it out of his hands.

“Keep it. I have no use for it anymore.” You lifted your suitcase from the floor, bringing it to the hallway.

“What if you get cold?”

“Why do you care, mh? Why do you suddenly care? Is it because you were caught with that influencer? Was it worth it? Was she worth it? I loved you, Pablo. I really did. But you proved yourself to be a selfish person, and an ever more selfish lover. I’m leaving,” you held back tears. “ I’m leaving this city, you, this house. Whatever happens to you in life, good luck. Maybe we weren’t meant to workout, but I would have loved to be treated with some much deserved respect in this relationship. I hope this failure serves as a lesson for your future relationship.”

“Respect? I respected you-” Pablo started arguing, but was cut off by your voice toppling his.

“You never respected me. I was left to pick up the slack, rain or shine; tired or not; I was the sole caretaker for this house. I cooked for us, I not only cleaned up after myself, but after you! For things I shouldn’t even have to remind you! Like your fucking socks, or the goddam dishes, or to call the fucking plumber. You couldn’t even bother Pablo. And I grew tired. So maybe you cheating off with this influencer isn’t that bad of a thing, because now I have an excuse to say to your face as to why I’m leaving you. Have fun being the villain in this story, Pablo, because I’m done.” You picked up your remaining bags and loaded them off in the trunk of your car.

Pablo was still standing in the doorway, his face closed off. He couldn’t do anything besides watch your car leave the driveway, the portal closing behind you for the last time.

[interloved]

MASTERLIST.

♡ — smut

✮ — suggestive drabble

☾ — fluff

you can read random drabbles about random characters from different fandoms here!

avatar.

✎ CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR: jake sully, tonowari!

works:

♡ BABYDOLL?: you’re not supposed to touch jake sully and/or tonowari—not in that way, anyway. actually, you’re not supposed to touch them in any specific way, yet you somehow still end up pinned down beneath them though, even though you’re much, much younger.

(nsfw hc’s for jake and tonowari as doms and subs + reader with age gap!) (seperated)

genshin impact.

✎ CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR: every character who’s not underage or female!

works:

♡ BABY, LOVE!: the genshin characters above as tutors / professors, who’ll give you study sessions… or should we say, study sessions in love? (feat. diluc, kazuha, childe, zhongli, albedo and xiao)

♡ BABY, LOVE! Part Two: the genshin characters above as tutors / professors, who’ll give you study sessions… or should we say, study sessions in love? (feat. scaramouche, aether, itto, cyno)

☾ Cupid’s Arrow: the love languages of genshin characters (feat. diluc, kazuha, childe, zhongli)

outerbanks.

✎ CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR: rafe cameron, john b, jj maybank, topper, kelce

works:

there is nothing here yet! work is in progress.

spiderverse universe.

✎ CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR: miguel o’hara, peter b parker

works:

there is nothing here yet! work is in progress.

star wars.

✎ CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR: anakin skywalker, kylo ren

works:

♡ ✮ modern!anakin skywalker as your professor and your boyfriend + age gap!: anakin is your professor and your boyfriend. that blurs the lines between his job and you being his student sometimes — but he can’t ever deny his sweet girl a request, and this time you want him to give his honest opinion on the essay you’ve written for an assignment he gave his students, including you.

♡ ✮ nerdy!anakin skywalker who’s secretly a freak: the nerd with the glasses that tutors you turns out to be not so innocent after all. and he looks even more delicious without his glasses.

✮ toxic anakin skywalker hc’s: small collection of nsfw drabbles for anakin x reader; i love my insane pookie (anakin is absolutely deranged and insane in this. but when was he ever not)

✮ professor!anakin skywalker drabble

criminal minds.

✎ CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR: spencer reid, aaron hotchner

works:

there is nothing here yet! work is in progress.

the walking dead.

✎ CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR: rick grimes, daryl dixon

works:

♡ ✮ dilf!rick grimes with age gap drabble: rick knows it’s wrong, but he can’t keep his hands off you.

(prison!era rick grimes x younger!reader)

✮ ☾ modern au: innocent actress!reader x bodyguard!rick grimes: rick grimes is a man who knows what he wants, and he wants you. and he may not be able to tell the world, but he damn sure can show them. (not a one-shot. probably. maybe. idk yet)

[olderthannetfic]

So the ‘straight with one exception’ shit that was so prevalent with straight women in fandom a few years ago. Do they find it a romantic notion? I’m bisexual so growing up in the 90s and 2000s most the queer content I could find was fan made. And don’t get me wrong I am grateful for the fandom moms of old for making queer content as a young guy in the 90s figuring myself out there was a lot of fear and self loathing but I always had fandom to make myself feel more normal. But yeah that straight with an exception thing, always really ruined my fic experiences a bit. But I’ve actually started reading older fic because it avoids a lot of the shit I find annoying about modern fics. Can’t escape this trope though it’s like negative nostalgia lol. I know you’re queer but I want to get why straight women love this trope so much. Is a bisexual man so unattractive?

--

Anon...

I hate to break it to you, but when I started interviewing slash writers from the 70s, I heard more than one story that was like "And then I had all these weird feelings for my best friend I was writing with..."

Decades on, these women may have picked some other word than 'straight', but plenty of them did experience You're My One Exception.

Even the horny and self-aware people often find One Exception stories hot, whether it's a villain only being nice to one person or someone who has only experienced attraction one time or someone who is attracted despite their usual orientation. Like 90% of het romance novels include some barf-worthy "It's never been like this before!!!!" observation when they finally get together as though love is more special when you can put down every past partner. People just really, really, really like this trope in all its forms.

The fact that you would think this is a sign of a straight or female writer shows that you are amazingly clueless.

--

That said, yeah, I too found the ubiquity of this in 90s fic annoying. Not a huge fan of the internalized homophobia that everyone was kinking on back then either.

I don't think it's specifically about bi men being attractive or not within fandom, though there is a massive real world double standard against bi men on, for example, OK Cupid.

I think it's more about One Exception as a general trope plus a lot of people being profoundly clueless about bisexuality in the 90s even if they were allies and activists for gay causes.

That was the era of Anything That Moves precisely because the queer community wasn't very hip about bi stuff yet. (And arguably, in recent years, we've backslid, but that's another story.)

--

~Fandom moms~. Yeesh. A lot of those big authors were probably in their 20s in the 90s.

[peachipeachy]

cool with you ☆彡 gojo satoru

(gojo satoru x fem!cupid!reader) inspired by the “cool with you” m/v by newjeans.

warnings; bow and arrow??? high school era gojo

a/n; this is just a small snippet of a larger fic i was brainstorming lolol. i'm actually not sure if i wanna release the whole thing bc;;;,,, well, i'm kinda embarrassed of my writing and this is literally my first time writing lol. anyways;;;,,,,

next chapter here

masterlist

----------

recently, something new has caught (y/n)’s attention. well, more like someone.

maybe it's because his hair was the colour of freshly fallen snow, or maybe it was the unmistakable sky-blue shade of his eyes. or maybe - the most viable option, in all honesty - it was the way his cerulean gaze ghosted over her. even from behind those ridiculous glasses he wore, it almost felt like he was looking right at her. like he could see her.

she shook her head, sharp eyes refocussing on tokyo's bustling crowds.

that's impossible. no one can see us.

ignoring her budding curiosity, her cold stare caught the movement of two humans. one woman sat at a cafe, sunglasses at the bridge of her nose, scanning through the menu in her hands and a man in a waiter's uniform, standing by the cafe kitchen.

there, she feels it. the familiar feeling of growing bonds; another couple will be born. as the man begins to turn in the woman's direction, (y/n) raises her hand, her cupid bow materialises in her palms. bow and arrow in hand, she draws back the bowstring, feeling the bonds pulse stronger. finally, as the pair make eye contact, her arrow flies.

bullseye.

she watches the two humans begin to talk - an exchange of jittery words passed through flustered smiles and pink cheeks. she notes how the human man's eyes were a similar shade of blue to her intriguing stranger’s.

(y/n)'s hands quickly fall to her side, a scowl evident on her features as her bow disappears into the passing winds.

she had a job to do and she was not going to be made a fool just because she was fascinated by some simple human.

----------

i hope you enjoyed it and thank you for making it this far!

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Vaniteas

I was on a horrible writer's block but here I am, writing fanfic. This is for a special person who yeeted me out of my creative slump LMAO

If you don't know who Vaniteas is, he's a vtuber I follow! A lot of things happened and i'm now writing a fic bout him lol. This is just going to be a short fic... But then you guys know what short is for me :D

An alternative Universe where a Demigod is now living in the modern era as a streamer, turns out has a past he could never take out.

He's an insane man.

Here he is, looking at the screen blink and blur for about ten times before sighing.

He's been streaming for 6 hours at this point. And the fact that he streams 2 hours on the regular, this was a bit of an eye strain at this point.

But he can't. Not yet.

His fingers danced across the keyboards as he tried to defeat Blackgaol Knight in the DLC, trying so hard to defeat the boss but he's about to slam the keyboard from frustration.

Doing an endurance stream while drunk isn't a good idea. But here he is, losing his mind while looking at a screen that almost swam from the lack of other stimulation other than this... Damned game.

Who knew doing a "Every defeat is a drink" stream will be the death of him? Not him, that's for sure.

He taps his finger on the desk, wondering what will happen next after this stream. His eyes flickered to the chat, and saw his regulars beefing on god knows what in the chatbox.

Then, out of nowhere, a raid happened.

He scrambled up, trying to straighten himself and be a bit more sober to greet the people who are now spamming their raid message. The raider, a friend of his, brought new viewers and old to his stream.

"Oh! Thank you for the raid..."

His heart stopped.

Was his eyes still being affected by the liquor, or is he actually seeing things?

An entry. Just the same raid message that he usually sees whenever his friend raids his stream. But the username that accompanied that message was someone he would never, ever forget.

Surely, it was just a coincidence? It was not you. It's impossible. It's been what, over 500 years since he last saw you?

Yeah, just a coincidence, he thought.

Because if it wasn't, he doesn't know what to do.

"Vani! Come on!"

"Wait up!"

A field filled with lush green grass that stretched out of the horizon, a lone cottage in the middle with a stream flowing down from the forest, the wind cold yet comforting, and the sky blue untainted.

It was the picture perfect scene for a picnic.

Vani juggled to balance the picnic basket in his arms, but his lips were stretched to a soft smile as he watched you dance and prance around the field.

This demigod was in love.

At first, it was just a simple curiosity. After all, with you being a witch finding a god to worship was a rare occurrence nowadays. Higher beings like him are trying to find worshippers just to ease their boredom.

So, he decided to bless you a bit. And that was supposed to be all of it.

But why? The fates were playful that day and struck him with a slow burn effect of the cupid's bow. And now, he's hopelessly enamored with your whole existence.

Your delighted face when you looked up at him sent his heart racing a bit. It was truly something he hadn't seen before, even with his previous worshippers.

His relationship with you was promptly a give or take. You do a ritual, he grants you powers to do simple tasks like fire bending to light up torches, cook, or even bless up your luck.

It was not until you laid there, one night on your bed, talking to the air as if talking to him.

"My Lord, why do you think the people hate witchcraft?" You asked, your face pale. "I didn't know I would be kicked out like that two months ago. What about my family? I don't..."

With a sigh, you turned to your side to weep your life that could have been.

His heart ached for you.

Yes, that was one of the reasons why people rarely worship them anymore. The act of witchcraft renders these witches burnt at the stake. Even to those who are not witches, if they were deemed too smart for the people, then they will face the wrath of the fire.

The same fire that Vani nurtures.

"It's unfortunate."

You scrambled up when you heard a voice seep into your mind. It was deep, a bit boyish yet mature.

"H-hello?"

That voice chuckled.

"Hi."

Things escalated quickly at that. You, who was lonely in the small cottage in the middle of the field, now has a friend. Weirdly enough, it's the god you worship and do rituals for.

It didn't take much long for a relationship to nurture when he starts showing up in front of you.

Everyday was filled with laughter, innocence, a budding relationship blossoming from a dire situation. His heart never beats this fast for another being, let alone a human or a worshipper, but here you are. Defying those same principles he held dear.

It was bliss, not until the other gods got hold of his... Escapades.

Things went downhill after that.

They said it was purely coincidence, but Vani swore it wasn't.

A person from a nearby village snooped you out, and has accused you of being a witch.

The worst part is, Vani was away since the gods decided to talk about him and this weird relationship he had with you.

The gods swore they were just scared for Vani.

But Vani never felt fear, until he let out harrowing screams with his fellow gods holding him back from trying to stop the people burning you at the stake.

The fire was angry. Deep harboring rage licked at your skin as you screamed out in pain. Screamed out his name in pain.

You wanted nothing more but to live peacefully.

"NO!"

Your body, which was once whole and filled with love he gave you, is now a pile of ashes and bones.

And as if nothing happened, the people scattered and went on with their lives.

Scrambling to his feet, he ran towards the stake and knelt at your ashes, desperately grabbing as much as he can and hugging it to his body to feel your warmth. But the warmth he felt was the remaining fire that burnt his skin. But he doesn't care. All he wants is you back again, in his arms, as he whispers his confession to you.

He failed to protect you.

Fate was cruel indeed. 300 years after that incident, another god fell in love with a human. And the others accepted it and decided to welcome this change.

But why only then? Where was their compassion when you were burnt in front of him? Where's the welcoming arms that this couple received when you were in Vani's arms, nothing but bones?

He deeply resented them at that time. And still do but in secret.

He shook his head to focus when he realized that the people were asking in chat if he's okay.

"Oh i'm fine! Don't worry. Something just came up." A smooth lie, he smiles to his audiences and decided to welcome everyone.

"... And hello, y/nTheWitch."

His voice was merely a whisper in the wind when he said that. After all, his heart was beating out of his chest when the familiar formation of the tongue and lips moved to blurt out your name.

A chat from you popped up on his screen and he almost wept then and there.

y/nTheWitch: Hi! I saw your name and was curious since you sound so familiar... I don't know where I heard it though, it's my first time seeing a vtuber.

y/nTheWitch: It's like a sense of deja vu, lol

Vani smiled bitterly. It must be you then, it's impossible that it's not you at all.

"Really? I think I heard of you too. You sound really familiar, and I also kind of have that sense of deja vu. Maybe we knew each other in our past life?" Vani joked, and the chat erupted in jeers thinking it was a pick up line.

It kind of was, but not the intention, really.

He can feel it. The connection with you that was once dull is now a weird numb ache in his meridians. You were alive again, and he hopes that it's you in the chat.

He hopes that it was truly, really you.

So that his past guilt of not protecting you will be lifted.

And the guilt of burning down the whole village who burnt you will also be lifted.

Countless of ashes and bones were scattered in your name.

And he's determined to not let that sacrifice in vain.

"I hope I'll see you next time I stream, y/n."

[giglio-nero-e-bianco]

How toxic are the ships welcomed here? Any other than Perirep?

If you ask me "how toxic" I think you haven't read my comic hahaha

And for ships that I like?

Perirep: duh

Coswan: duh

Anti-Coswan: they make me froth at the mouth, something about this overpowered, evil bastard that rules his world being head over heels for this woman that eats with her feet and probably walks around in pijamas has me weak

Devzel: they're súper cute and I love them "sunshine girl and tsundere boy"

Timmy x Remy: oh boy did that have me gripped when I was younger

Timmy x Jimmy: they cute ngl

Juandissimo x Cupid: they spend too much time together to be just friends

*****Please don't burn me at the stake:

PeriDale: *Peri and his awful taste in men* OR "I have to adopt Dev... Even if that means marrying his dad and then get custody"

PLEASE DON'T KILL ME but Juandissimo and Peri??: "gay awakening" x "if I couldn't get your mom the son will do"??? (I'm not THAT big of a fan... But my 13 year old self calls me from a certain Danny Phantom ship era...)

AJ and Chester??: I just think they're neat??

Trixie x Verónica: they give me the toxic "I need you so bad I wanna be you" vibes

Tooth Fairy x Jorgen: IMPREGNATE THAT MAN!!!

[yan-randomfandom]

MASTERLIST I

Part 1: 8/17/2024 — ...

Click on Keep Reading to see the list of everything I've done under their respective media!

—👁️🩷

Extra Deets for Me: Account made during FOPANW/TBOB era. Secret Alliance → GIFfany themes.

Unless stated otherwise, the Reader is Gender Neutral (GN).

DICTIONARY:

Y - Yandere

P - Platonic (friendly/familial obsession)

H - Headcanons

D - Drabble (very short story)

C - Crumbs (aka draft, discussion)

F - Female

NOTE: Feel free to list down your fandoms in the comments! Anything that you would want to see yandere content with! Just so I can browse and maybe write for!!

ANOTHER NOTE: Please tell me if a link isn't working..... tumblr whyyyy

Gravity Falls

Y!Stanley Pines x Reader H. [1st post on everything]

Wendy Corduroy x Reader H.

Y!Stanford Pines x Doctor!Reader H.

1: P!Y!Stanford Pines & Teen!Reader D.

2: P!Y!Pines Family x Teen!Reader D. & C.

Y!Stanford Gleeful x Reader H. AU Reverse Falls

Thief!Stanley Pines x Reader C.

Bill Cipher x F!Reader [Don't click. Not worth it]

Y!Stanford Pines x Reader C. & H./D.

Theraprism!Bill Cipher & GOLB!Reader D.

Sailor!Stanley Pines x Reader D.

Y!Stanford Pines x Godling!Reader D.

Kid!Stanley Pines & Kid!Reader D.

Old Man McGucket x Reader D.

The Fairly Oddparents: (A New Wish)

1: Semi-Y!Peri x Human!Reader H.

2: Peri x Human!Reader H.

3: Y!Peri x Human!Reader H. & D.

Dating Headcanons: Peri x Reader

Y!Dale Dimmadome x Reader H.

Y!Cupid x Human!Reader H. [OG series]

P!Y!Dev Dimmadome & Reader H. & D.

P!Y!Dev Dimmadome & Dale Dimmadome C.

Y!Irep x Human!Reader H. & D.

Tinkerbell

Y!Nyx x Reader H.

Minecraft Story Mode

Y!Jesse!Romeo x Architect!Reader H.

Honoring Stanley for being my first muse 🫡

[lovebvni]

Pick - A -Pile (love themed from 07.30.2022)

again, briefing you by saying this is from 2022. i was a different person two years ago, LMFAO

┈

│ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ...

╰─────────────────

[ 🖊 ] created ⋮ 18.7.22

[  ] published ⋮  30.7.22

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰ ⌨ ✰ Arsyn   ⋆  ⁱˢ ᵗʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ··· ꒱ | ೃ࿔₊•

┊       ⋆     welcome to my blog !

┊     °

For starters, I am so sorry how long its been since i did a pick a pile (2 months?) and I'm praying this isn't my last one of the year. I'm moving and I cant bring my tarot card with me and I'm worried I wont have them for a while.. Anyways lets stop being depressing.

Hello! Welcome to a pick a pile. This is a general reading, everything should be taken with a grain of salt. Hundreds of people may read this, everything I say in your pile(s) will NOT resonate. Today we have (the first one is pretty much 2 different piles)4 piles and the following questions.

1. How far are you on your shifting journey?

2. a general message from ur s/o.

along with these questions i will give things that may draw you to your pile. i will be using tarot and oracle cards.

now please take everything with a grain of salt!

breathe in...

and out...

now please, pick a pile or two

[pile 1,2

pile 3,4]

Welcome pile one!!

let me see what may resonate for this pile before this reading, as confirmation this is the right pile: true, the colour hot pink, passion, cold-hearted and cold-blooded, "remember why you started", "everything is for a reason", "life isnt fair sometimes, and that sucks", deities, ocean, water, "i'd rather do this alone"

For the first question, How far are you in your shifting journey?

the lovers

ok so there are 2 different energies in this pile. the first one being those in the honeymoon era, they're just beginning shifting and think its everything and more! romanticizing the idea of being with their s/o and shifting. you're almost turning a blind eye to the other parts of shifting, the fact its ACTUAL FUCKING LIFE! its not just a perfect place, man, its like your cr. you're going to have altercations, fights, and everything else.the others are in the ones who know about shifting, and have been doing it for a few months, maybe even years. you're in the people who know how it is but you're getting back into shifting. who are starting to love it and understanding that shifting is a great thing that you shouldn't have stopped/taken that long of a break. you're almost in a 'new love/ new beginnings' era. you're getting reading to pull off the side of the highway. GET BACK INTO IT!! YOU GOT THIS!!

What does your s/o want to tell you?

so i was called to get an oracle card for this.

"Nothing is yet set in stone, mutable moon" and "Expect a powerful change, new moon eclipse"

The Chariot

these are for the two different energies. the first honeymoon era people are being told you can change how you are and how you see things. dont change your whole personality ofc, just how you see things. dont hold it back. waves change sometimes, the water isnt a different formula though. sobbing of course loki's card came out. you're going to move forward at a rapid pace, and have fun with it! take this and you'll shift soon!

3 of cups 3 of swords

the new beginnings era is reflected in the new moon. new ways of seeing things, new methods, change. theres a lot of change. going on, new ways of seeing things. new friends, new advice. stop doing this alone, its only hurting you, i feel like your energy was in my last pick a pile too. sharing is the best way to understand things. people can relate and give advice to move forward. I feel like you've been in a heartbreak before/toxic friendships/or you're just shy so you dont want to talk to theres about this. you need to communicate. it will help you a LOT.

thank you pile 1!! i hope this resonates 

welcome pile 2!

confirmation this is the right pile: late nights, deep breathing, burning bridges, endings, cupid, wings, outdoors, flowers, loops, asleep methods. purple, blue, shinsou, iida, speed, fire signs, water signs.

1. How far are you on your shifting journey?

oracle: have faith in ur dreams waxing crescent moon, dont let pride get in your way

tarot: the sun, three of swords reversed, four of cups

i feel like this pile has overcome a lot. you guys may have shifter or are VERY VERY close to shifting. i mean like days or even a few weeks away. this pile may make you really like self centered almost? may have been told this before but as long as you dont get cocky, you will shift. dont roll your eyes and say 'ugh, this again'. YOU GOT THIS! try meditating before you shift. maybe try channeling for advice. a friend what they heard for you. do one of those 'what messages do you hear for me' things! they may be helpful. i also recommend that you use an asleep method, and visualize what you feel. i dont care if you're "not good at it" just fucking try man, you're getting nowhere by pouting.

2. a message from your s/o.

oracle: show the world the real you full moon in aquarius, hold your vison fixed moon

tarot: three of wands reversed, five of wands reversed

with these two cards coming out i heard "i know you feel like youre back tracking, but you're really not. keep pushing yourself, dont let anything change how. do take the advice you have been given and dont ire yourself. if you feel like its not the night, keep pushing because your brain could just be telling you otherwise. listen to your heart.

welcome pile 3! it is 12:23AM as im typing this

heres confirmation this is ur pile!

: 711, stubborn, holding onto the past, letting go, pink, red, past love, new love, royalty dr, red and blue, SERIOUS mood swings, tamaki, ohchs, polyamory

1. How far are you on ur shifting journey?

oracle: work through your fears new moon in scorpio, conlusions are winthin reach full moon eclipse

tarot: ten of torches (wands) reversed, 10 of cups reversed, queen of torches, two of swords,

i feel like this pile is holding onto past fears/anxieties. you need to push through these and you'll see big changes. i heard shadow work and i feel like you've done this before/been told to do this before. but you didnt. i feel like there was a manipulative divine feminine energy here. someone who was passionate and maybe your relationship/friendship fell apart. i feel sad for this pile because you guys were really close to you. you trusted them with your life. you're still sad about this. heartbreak happens.

2. message from ur s/o

oracle: believe in the impossible, blue moon

tarot: page of cups, the sun reversed, 3 of coins

i feel like your s/o is saying although you dont know who they are (your s/o may be undecided) but they're watching you during your highs and lows. they're rooting for you. they're so happy you're shifting. they want to hug you so tight one day and just be able to stay with you. i hear that sometimes your highs and lows are uncontrolable, shadow work may help you. you may have tried shifting in a past life and gave up completely. this is the life you will finally do it.

Pile 4!

Last pile! yall dont know how happy i am to be on the last pile. its almost 1:30 am im tired asf bc i fixed my sleep schedule.

confirmation: addiction, sweets, hearts, queen of hearts, alice in wonderland, playing cards, 333, missing out/feeling left out,

How far are you on your shifting journey?

oracle: i was guided not to grab any

tarot: the hanged man, nine of torches, three of pentacles reversed

you're at a point of being stuck. like you were in a web. you're moving out of it a little bit but you stopped and said "well the rain will get me out." you're relaxing trying to let the universe do the work. take that knife out your pocket and get to work man! you're wanting something but doing nothing. thats lazy. if you dont put anything in theres no chance of getting it back.

A message from your s/o.

oracle: Thake your time and breathe out disseminating moon

tarot: ace of wands, temperance reversed, three of wands, ace of cups reversed

you know you have great creative potential. why dot you use it to make your own method? write what makes you so happy to shift. express how much you love your s/o in a letter. they're telling you to use this creativity you have stored up in you for the good. it will benefit you and everyone around you. you may inspire someone else! they're telling you to take a step back from a hard situation and work on a side quest, almost. it will help you in the long run (like getting a level advantage over one of the bosses) i can tell you're getting impatient. learn that everything happens for a reason. take a break. focus on something else. dont make shifting the only thing you're looking forward to in life. okay? once you do this you'll move forward although it will be hard to realize (for you) that shifting ISNT WHAT LIFE IS ABOUT!

thank you all for reading! i hope it resonated. i worked on this from 11pm to 2 am omg

ONCE AGAIN, THIS WAS ORIGINALLY POSTED IN 2022.

[cialovesklopp]

𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑, 𝐉𝐄 𝐓’𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄

PAIRING: kylian mbappé x amara imani

*•..° ❝𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀❞ ｡.*･ﾟ*✧

↳ when amara imani’s life is crashing down, star football player kylian mbappé is ready to pull her out of her slump

or

↳ in which kylian mbappé meets amara imani before her rep! era and is hell bent on making sure she is ready for a comeback

— 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: WELCOME TO MY FIRST SERIES: MON AMOUR, JE T’AIME. very excited to start this project and i really hope to keep this enthusiasm during the progress of publishing the chapters. I instantly fell in love with her and only hope i can manage to transport that love through the screens. 

also huge thank you to my bestie @lorarri​ for all the help, preparing this series. mon amour is as much my fanfiction as it is yours, because amara was created by both of us and i would have never done it without your help, so thank you so much for supporting me, helping me and just being you &lt;3

CHARACTERS:

amara imani

➛ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒:

article one — QUELLE HONTE

prologue

chapter one — dress

article two — CUPID’S PERFECT MATCH

chapter two — one kind of a man

article three — THE QUEEN OF POP FLOPS AT RELATIONSHIPS!

chapter three — this love

article four — WHERE HAS SHE GONE?

chapter four  — pov

article five — SHE IS BACK!!

chapter five — revenge is a dish best served cold

article six — AMARA’S RENAISSANCE

chapter six — king of my heart

article seven — mon amour -> who is she dating?

chapter seven — lover

article eight — amara imani sues evan henderson for defamation

chapter eight — va dire à ton ex

article nine — is amara imani dating star-football player kylian mbappé?

chapter nine — wild side

chapter ten — while we’re young

bonus one -> daylight

bonus two -> une journée a trois

➛ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 — 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄

➛ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 — 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃’𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄

➛ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐎𝐏 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒

➛ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 — 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄?

➛ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 — 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊!!

➛ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐱 — 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀’𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

➛ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 — 𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 -> 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

➛ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 — 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

➛ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 — 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐑𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄

➛ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧 — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆