#hate to say it but sometimes the plot can just be Not Good

[gangstalkerbarbie]

REAL AS HELL OP it's so much more fun and edifying when you make an effort to understand the people who were writing. they probably weren't writing to you and they may have actively wanted to kill you or enslave you, but that's a bias inherent in a Lot of writing by people who aren't whatever you are, that i for example was still required to read to be able to participate in even my birth society. you know? to me this actually does have a lot to do with the real world, personally (again: to me, i'm not hauling anyone into anything. everyone not interested in Barbie Gets Political: The Movie can ignore the cut)

like, ok, xenophobia is and was real in real life too, and if it's set dressing in a period novel, well, i'm there for the plot, aren't i? these are concerns these characters realistically would have had, aren't they?

the racists and the antisemites and so on aren't going to jump off the page and hurt me. in fact a lot of the time old dead racist people or whoever are hamfistedly trying to be anti whatever it is for their time, given that many of them don't experience the effects of whatever on their society at all, being dominant in it and not having any acquaintances who aren't. sometimes some of them actually do know people marginalized in their society intimately, and their writing is genuine allyship. that's in the archives of history too.

and no one like, shielded me from any of that, because if literature reflects the world then encountering written hatred is safe practice for children at engaging with real hate. you balance it out with your own cultural products where your experience is central and your domestic life is celebrated, but in order to survive in a hostile society your offspring have to understand the soul of that society, and if you want to change something about it, why then you need to know what you're working with so that you can effectively do that.

being able to see people that conceivably could have hated you as humans who are good or at least neutral at heart is hard. especially if their descendants keep killing people like you and saying inflammatory shit online. but intellectually understanding them is still important, because most of the time the fencesitting people in your daily life who find refuge in times when you were less visible are afraid of you, and most of the time the fear is manufactured by some force other than either of you with oodles of money. and much of the time comforting them in the voice of these ancestors of theirs works!

and idk it's no one's like, heaven given task to educate racists but the one person that frames it as a sickness and bothers is going to change those people's lives, and their own life in a small way too. you know? i've done it, it's work i didn't have to do and shouldn't be held responsible for always doing but i have in fact done it.

that's why i spent so much time grinding english - i would have been fine with the school level if i just wanted to make money, but i wanted to understand the anglophone soul, as a matter of keeping myself safe and helping other people.

i half have a conspiracy theory that the american push to sanitise children's experience of the world is a push to keep children from accurately comprehending the situation they're maturing into. left unspoken is that there are going to be responsible parents of every kind educating their children at home, but they'll do that from books that reflect their own politics and their real experiences and fears about the world, which is how you get privileged children who grow up into a kumbaya sparkles and rainbows construction of the world where racism or antisemitism or whatever is Solved, and then every other kind of child raised by parents with every other idea about how the world works, who might meet them only in higher education. who has a pretty fundamental gulf of experience with them, which is none of their faults, but which does mean that in their perception this marginalized person who is just trying to protect themself appears to be picking on them for no reason.

if someone picks on you for no reason and you've been raised to fight injustice with the structural power that you have to do that, riddle me piss, what's the white kid going to do?

bingo, the same thing that i do when lumped in with anglosaxons by people trying to minimize whatever racist thing i'm telling them happened to me, or deny that it was because the people doing it don't think eastern european women are fully people (they don't), or whatever.

except they have relevant and responsible ancestors and mine were, like, illiterate peasant wizards with a classist and antisemitic reputation for stealing everything not nailed down, krymchak rabbis who tbh didn't really do anything honestly they just got axe murdered for nonexistent gold, horse cart nomads with a racist reputation for stealing everything not nailed down, and factory serfs with a classist reputation for stealing everything not nailed down.

and to this hypothetical white person it's just defending themself, but everyone else might experience that same exchange as a manifestation of structural racism - the establishment gaslighting them about their own suffering and, essentially, engaging with them as an abuser with a victim.

why does only that guy get to sit on this high horse? why does he get to believe the world is ponies and care bears while everyone with any tie to literally any "third" or "second" world country, to any ancestral homeland, even one like the construction of mama afrika, can see it for what it is?

if there was a unified, at least trying to be antiracist national literature in any anglospheric country it would help - it did help, it's largely the soviet cultural machine and its unfortunate impacts on everyone that made, for example, russians and tatars in the ussr, who had beef, largely functionally indistinguishable from each other today. these are people with a long intergenerational legacy of mutual strife and oppression, and they're, like, fine now. they joke about it.

but there isn't an attempt at a unified, antiracist national literature in any anglosphere country, that i know of. there's only books by people who aren't you, some of whom have always or frequently seen you as less than human (if you're anything other than WASPy), and some of whom (if you're WASPy) are justifiably really, really, really fucking mad at your parents.

it is a very important skill to have to abstract yourself from people personally starting shit with you and start seeing writing about your demographic as just a neutral reflection of the world, or the biases inherent in the world. that's the only way it's ever going to get any more neutral, is if the people who could actually most benefit the world by reading minority authors actually did that.

the rest of the world has to read your literature, why not read the world's? see what the world has to say? it might not be flattering but it's real, which is something that i knew from childhood, and something that people better off than me are at present actively trying to devalue learning from university.

to be someone who's actually interested in reading english literature and genre fiction or tbh any kind of cultural production. you kind of accept that racism and misogyny and so on usually brackets all the cool worldbuilding and beautiful prose and the clever ideas? it doesn't really dull my enjoyment exactly, i honestly have fun mapping out the exact contours of the type of racism. i enjoy fanwork that thumbs at that. but the denial of its existence actually really really does annoys me. i emotionally have a worse long term response to the denial of racism than actual racism. (this has absolutely nothing to do with the real world.)

[dazaih]

wingman - luke skywalker x reader

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three

chapter four -> cloud city ii

your university roommate han solo finds a rival (and love interest) in student council president leia skywalker, but both of them are too stubborn to admit that they have feelings for each other. luckily, you and her twin brother, luke, devise a plan to get the two of them to spend more time together. challenges arise, however, when you start to develop a crush on him.

chapter warnings: drug and alcohol usage, violence, blood, injuries. if you wish to skip the fight scene, scroll down to the text divider and begin with the line “You were going to be fine.” i personally don’t think there’s anything incredibly graphic (especially considering the nature of star wars lol) but i never want my stories to cause stress or discomfort for anyone. please take care of yourself!

a/n: incorporating a lil bit of canon content into this au and introducing some plot! i’ve been really nervous to post this chapter because of the slight tonal shift but hopefully you don’t hate it lol <3

By the time the band ended their set, you were sweating, feeling parched and slightly sore with a small headache from enthusiastically moving your body to the songs. Han must have felt similarly, because he pointed to his breast pocket and flashed you a grin.

“Cigarette?” he asked, gesturing to the door.

“I’ll go with you since you’re so drunk,” you slurred, only slightly better off.

“Chewie?”

Chewie shook his head, pointing to the bar. He wanted another drink, probably so he could match the level you and Han were at. With that, the two of you made your way outside, Lando eyeing you as you left. Something about the look he gave you made you feel a little on edge, but you chalked it up to the tensions you’d experienced earlier in the night. Han led you to the alley on the side of the building, lighting his cigarette and exhaling the smoke with a sigh of relief.

“Lando pours ‘em strong,” he remarked, closing his eyes, “Always has, but man. I’m a little fucked up.”

“Well, that’s what we came here for,” you said, sitting down on the sidewalk next to where he was standing.

The two of you stayed there for a bit, a comfortable silence playing out as Han smoked. All things considered, you’d had a good time so far. It had been a while since you’d gone to a nice venue like this. You leaned your head against his leg, closing your eyes and sighing as you soaked in the city’s soundscape. Being here still felt surreal sometimes, but you were thankful to have friends who made you feel so grounded.

“Han Solo,” a voice rang out, piercing the tranquility the two of you had created out in the alleyway.

You didn’t know who the voice belonged to, but Han sure did. He immediately tensed, but didn’t put his cigarette out.

“What a surprise,” your roommate replied, though you caught an ounce of distress in his drunken words, “Good to see you, Fett.”

“Wish I could say the same,” the man said, finally close enough to see. The streetlight illuminated his features only slightly, but he was strong, with a stern expression that made you feel uneasy.

“Can we help you?” you asked, standing up from your spot on the sidewalk. When Han gently nudged your hand, however, you shrank back against the wall slightly.

“You probably can’t,” the man—Fett, Han had called him—replied coldly, meeting your eyes. This guy had to be at least thirty, and you tried to sort through your scrambled thoughts to figure out what he could want with Han.

“He’s right,” Han agreed, surprising you, “You should go inside. Find Chewie.”

“No,” Fett said sternly, grabbing your wrist as you turned to leave, “I won’t hurt you, but I can’t let you do that. You just stand there and watch.”

“Watch what?” you asked, stomach starting to churn. You didn’t like this.

“That all depends on him.”

“Listen, Boba. I told the Hutts that I’d pay them back once I graduated. I’ll pay them double, even. I just have to take another semester.”

“Jabba doesn’t think you’ll graduate at all,” the man replied, inching closer to Han, “And he doesn’t give a shit about your education, anyway. He’s been generous enough to offer you your old job back, though. He’d take the money you owe him out of your paycheck, and you’d have to work for him until it was all paid off.”

“We’ve been through this before,” Han said, taking another drag of his cigarette and blowing it in Fett’s face, “I don’t deal anymore, and he knows that. You know that.”

“I’m here to give you another chance to make the reasonable choice,” he warned, his fierce tone contradicting his words. This was a threat, you realized.

“No,” he said, putting his cigarette out against the wall and letting it drop to the ground, “I can’t. They’ll kick me out of here if I get caught smuggling drugs, Boba. Just tell him that I’m graduating soon, and I’ll be able to land a pretty nice job with an engineering degree, so he doesn’t need to—“

Boba didn’t let him finish before he punched him square in the jaw, Han falling back against the wall from the force of it. Immediately, you turned to run inside, but you were quickly grabbed and restrained by another man. You watched in horror as a few more people emerged from the other side of the alleyway, walking towards your group. Reinforcements, you supposed. If you weren’t so frightened, you’d find humor in the fact that Han was apparently enough trouble to warrant such a sizable crowd.

Han braced himself against the cool brick, managing to muster enough energy and coordination in his drunken state to land a hit on his opponent. Boba faltered slightly, but the attack only served to piss him off even more.

“Hold him still,” he ordered, and two of the men he was with each grabbed one of Han’s arms, forcing him to stand upright. Your stomach sank when Boba pulled out something shiny from his pocket, and when he fitted the metal onto his hand, you lurched forward, trying to come to your friend’s rescue. When the men pulled you back, you continued to struggle, resulting in a harsh blow being delivered to your ribs.

“Kid, ‘s alright. Don’t get yourself into any trouble,” Han mumbled, his speech slightly obscured by the blood pouring from his upper lip.

“You’re gonna kill him,” you cried as Boba admired the brass knuckles on his hand.

“Last chance, Solo,” he said, ignoring you, “You can either repay your debt by coming back to work for Jabba, or you can repay it with your life right now.”

“You don’t understand,” Han hissed, almost collapsing but being jerked back upwards by the men restraining him, “I can’t transport that shit anymore. I’ve worked too hard to get here. But I can still pay him. Hell, I’ll even do triple. Don’t be a fool—“

That was the wrong answer, it seemed. You screamed as Boba delivered the first punch with the brass knuckles to Han’s ribs, helplessly thrashing against your captors.

“Lando will come looking for us,” you yelled, still trying to fight back against the men holding you, “He saw us walk out here.”

“I paid Lando a hundred bucks to stay inside and mind his business,” Boba replied coolly, hitting Han again, “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Realizing the direness of your situation, you shoved your heel as hard as you could into the foot of the man to your right, his grip loosening on you just enough to allow you to break free for a moment. Without thinking twice, you pushed your finger into the eye of the man on your left, causing him to reel back in pain.

You ran as far as you could to the end of the alleyway, trying to at least make sure your cry for help was heard before your captors inevitably caught up to you. You almost made it, and when your escape attempt was thwarted by one of the men pulling you backwards, you screamed as loudly as you could. The consequence of this was that a piece of cloth was shoved into your mouth, effectively gagging you. Tears streamed down your face as you struggled again, trying to resist being dragged back to the scene of your closest friend being beaten within an inch of his life. The man whose eye you’d injured welcomed you back into the group by throwing you onto the concrete harshly, and you let out a deep wheeze of pain.

“Not worth it, kid,” Han pleaded, his voice strained, “It’ll be okay. ‘S okay—“

He was cut off by Boba gripping his hair harshly and delivering a knee to his stomach, causing him to gasp and cough up a small amount of blood.

“What a fitting end for you, Han Solo. Getting the shit beat out of you in the back of an alley while those rich brats you’ve tried so hard to fit in with don’t even care enough to come see what all the commotion is about. You were better off as one of us.”

Han said nothing—he couldn’t speak anymore, you realized. Between the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed and the violence he’d endured, it was a miracle that he was even still conscious. You watched helplessly as Boba continued to hit him, only using the brass knuckles on occasion, making you realize that he was intentionally dragging it out. It was audacious to believe that no one would catch him, but Boba had convinced even you that no one was coming to your rescue at this point. The weight of the realization was suffocating, and you weren’t sure if the gag choking you or the deep despair you felt was what caused more tears to escape you.

You couldn’t watch any longer. You looked off into the distance, trying to focus on something else as you were forced to listen to Han’s pained grunts and gasps. Your vision was slightly blurred from crying, but when a familiar silhouette appeared at the end of the alleyway, you felt relief wash over you. It was Chewie. He’d come to look for you.

You briefly fretted over him meeting a fate similar to your own, but you realized quickly that he wasn’t alone. None other than Luke Skywalker was in tow, his teammates still following him.

“Hey!” he shouted, racing towards you all. You tried to warn him about the ferocity of your opponents, tried to tell him that this was no normal bar squabble—but it was too late. As soon as he had breached the group, Boba turned sharply, punching him in the face with his bare hand. Luke hissed in pain, but to your surprise, swung back with enough force to make Boba stumble. The other man grunted and raised his other fist—the one with the brass knuckles—and you tried to scream out a warning, your cries muffled by the rag in your mouth. Surprising you further, however, Luke dodged his attack, throwing him off balance enough to shove him to the side harshly and rush towards you. In his tracks, his teammates picked up his slack, and there, in the alley of Cloud City, a true fight broke out. The men who had been keeping watch over you ran to defend their leader, and Luke made his way to you.

“Call the police!” Luke shouted, kneeling down in front of you. Blood was pouring from his nose and his lip, but he didn’t seem to mind as he pulled the rag from your mouth. You coughed, choking slightly at the sudden change in pressure. His hand cupped your cheek immediately, thumb gently wiping away stray tears from your face. You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline getting to your head, but in that moment, you felt incredibly cared about in a way that was all too genuine for the type of relationship you and Luke had.

“It’s okay,” he told you, seemingly much more sober than he’d been inside, “I’m gonna take care of everything. Gonna get help.”

You looked past him to see Chewie and his teammates fighting off Fett’s group, Han having collapsed onto the ground without the support of his captors holding him up.

“Tell Lando to get out here now!” Luke yelled again, and one of his teammates raced towards the bar.

“They paid Lando a hundred bucks to stay inside,” you recited, your head pounding.

“Okay? I’ll pay him two hundred to get outside,” Luke scoffed, trying to help you sit up.

“Police are on their way!” you heard someone yell. You looked down the alley to see Lando himself, two bouncers standing next to him. You could have hit him at the moment, but because of your current injuries, you stayed put.

You watched as Boba delivered a few more heavy blows to Luke’s teammates, only two of his own men still standing, stumbling to catch up with him.

“You’re gonna regret this, Calrissian. You should’ve kept your ass inside like I told you to,” Fett shouted, backing up to exit the other end of the alley.

“I didn’t realize you were trying to kill Han outside of my bar,” Lando retaliated, watching Boba carefully as he walked backwards to his escape route.

“It didn’t concern you.”

When he stumbled in your direction, he couldn’t resist the urge to pull Luke up by his hair, the other man surprised by the sudden attack.

“And you,” Fett hissed, Lando and Luke’s remaining teammates now sprinting towards you, “I’ll teach you to interrupt a man’s business.”

“Do your worst. We’ll see where it gets you,” Luke replied, voice strained by the tugging on his hair. You watched as Luke took the opportunity to carefully study Boba’s face rather than fight back, and you were once again seized by an emotion that you couldn’t quite place.

Fett glared at him, pulling him higher up and then throwing him to the ground as hard as he could, the sound of Luke’s body smacking against the concrete making you wince. He groaned beside of you, and you weren’t sure if the blood pouring from his face was new or from the first altercation he’d had with him. With that, Fett escaped the alleyway, Lando and his men chasing after him.

“Luke!” Biggs shouted, running to where you all were.

“Leia,” Luke choked out, gasping for air as most of it had been knocked out of him, “Call Leia.”

Biggs nodded, and you heard sirens wailing in the distance, the red flashing lights of what you assumed was an ambulance illuminating the surrounding buildings. One of Luke’s other teammates stumbled over to check on him, and you knew instantly that he’d never seen such violence firsthand. It was Elias.

“Elevate his head,” you told him, struggling to pull yourself to your feet, “Find out where he’s bleeding.”

Elias nodded, shaky hands lifting Luke’s head and placing his coat underneath it. You stumbled towards Han, mustering all of your strength. Chewie was already at his side, having leaned him up against the wall so he was sitting upright.

“Han,” you gasped, falling to your knees next to him, “Can you hear me?”

When he didn’t say anything, you began to panic slightly, lifting his head to try to make him meet your eyes.

“Han,” you said again, and his eyes opened slightly as he tried to take in your appearance.

“Bleeding,” he managed to sputter out, “You’re bleeding. Your face.”

“You’re a whole lot worse, man,” you tried to joke, but you couldn’t stop your eyes from watering.

“I need a cigarette,” he slurred, and you leaned his head to the side slightly.

“Spit,” you told him, and when he did, you couldn’t even see any saliva—only blood. His eyes fluttered closed again, and you brushed his hair from his forehead gently.

“You have to stay awake, Han,” you told him sternly, keeping his head upright. Chewie gave you a concerned look. This was bad.

Luckily, the ambulance arrived then, parking at the end of the alley. A few paramedics rushed out and immediately identified Han as being in the most critical condition, lifting him onto a stretcher and taking him to the ambulance. Two more arrived soon after, and a few police cars were there as well. You watched as Lando reappeared, explaining the situation to the cops.

“You should go with Han,” you told Chewie. He frowned, looking you over and shaking his head.

“They probably won’t let me do it because they need to check me out first, but you’re fine. You should go. I’ll be okay.”

Reluctantly, Chewie nodded, pulling you into a gentle embrace before departing, running towards the ambulance Han was in. You let out a sigh of relief, feeling better knowing that your roommates would be there for each other. You saw Elias, Biggs, and some more paramedics help Luke into the back of an ambulance, and when he murmured something you couldn’t quite make out from this distance, Biggs came over to where you were standing, some paramedics behind him.

“They wanna look you over,” he explained, offering you his arm. You nodded, allowing yourself to be escorted away from the blood stained alleyway.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You were going to be fine. You had broken your wrist from how you’d landed when you were thrown, and you had some serious bruising on your ribs, but overall, you were going to be fine. When you were cleared, you exited the back of the ambulance, only to find Luke sitting on a bench across from you.

“Shouldn’t you be in one of those ambulances?” you asked, taking in his appearance.

He had a black eye and a busted lip that had been stitched up, but he smiled at you regardless.

“Already got cleared. Got a concussion, a black eye, stitches, and my ribs are all bruised up, but nothing that requires going to the emergency room. How about you?”

You sat down next to him, sighing from the ache in your body, “My ribs are bruised too. And I broke my wrist. Wanna sign my cast later?”

“Of course,” he said happily, leaning back and looking at you, “But really, are you okay?”

“No,” you whispered, frowning as you stared at the sidewalk, “I thought I was about to watch him die.”

Luke sat up, taking your good hand into his own.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get out here sooner. Chewie came to see if you were with me, and then we went outside to look for you. Then we heard you scream. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you assured him, squeezing his hand, “Glad I didn’t mess my throat up for no reason, I guess.”

He didn’t laugh, and instead he pulled you into a hug, his hand resting securely on the back of your neck. The safety of his embrace made your eyes water, and you melted into his touch.

“I was scared,” you whispered into his shoulder, allowing a man you hardly knew to hold you on a park bench in the middle of the city.

“Me too,” he told you, gently carding his fingers through your hair, “But it’s over, and we’ll have more answers tomorrow.“

You nodded, the words causing your mind to drift to Han. You pulled back and checked your phone.

4 new notifications

Chewie: he’s stable. in and out of consciousness, but he’ll be okay. doing x-rays soon.

Chewie: r u ok?? did u get ur injuries checked out?

Chewie: ok he has some broken ribs and a broken nose. pretty bad concussion too. they want to keep him overnight at least.

Chewie: i’m gonna stay tn. you should go home and get some sleep. you’ve been thru a lot. pls txt when u can to lmk ur ok

Texting a quick message back, you sighed, relieved that Han was going to be okay but still nervous about his injuries. The stress must have shown on your face, because Luke placed an arm around you, letting you lean your head on his shoulder.

“How is he?” he asked, rubbing your arm.

“At the hospital. Broken bones, but he’ll be okay, according to Chewie,” you said, allowing him to console you, “Thank you, by the way. I owe you one.”

“Don’t thank me,” he told you, “Setting my sister up with Han doesn’t really work if he gets killed in the back of an alleyway.”

You chuckled a little at that, glad for Luke’s ability to lighten the mood.

“But really,” he said seriously, “You don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Just then, a sleek, black car pulled into the parking lot, and none other than Leia crawled out of the passenger seat. Of course they had a personal driver.

“What the fuck,” she muttered, taking in the crime scene tape and Luke’s battered appearance before rushing over to you, “What happened?”

“Some guys tried to kill Han during his cigarette break,” you explained simply, the weight of your exhaustion setting in, making it impossible for you to offer more context.

“Han?” she asked, concern written all over her features, “Where is he?”

“Hospital. They’re keeping him overnight.”

“Shit,” she huffed, taking Luke’s face into her hands and evaluating the damage, “How did you get involved?”

“He and Chewie and his friends stepped in,” you told her, watching as she eyed the stitches on his lip, “Probably would’ve died if he didn’t.”

She sighed, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips, seemingly unsure of what to do. She stared at you for a second, and then back at Luke, clearly distressed by his injuries. Her concern for him was sweet.

“Local news headlines are gonna pick this up,” she said, frowning, “I think Lando’s gonna talk to the press to make it clear that it was an attack and you came to the rescue, but I don’t know.”

“I don’t care,” Luke told her, waving his hand dismissively, “I don’t wanna worry about stuff like that right now.”

“I know,” she replied, sighing again, “Mom and Dad are gonna lose their shit—“

“I don’t care.”

“You should call them,” she urged, looking at his injuries again, “Someone else probably has by now. Have you checked your phone?”

“No,” he said, looking annoyed, “Have you?”

“No. I’ve been afraid of what they’ll say.”

“Will they be angry with you?” you asked, not sure what kind of reaction you should be anticipating from the Skywalker family.

“Probably with me for not filling them in,” Leia admitted, her voice weary.

“Probably with me for getting hurt,” Luke added.

“I bet they’ll want us to come home for the rest of the weekend.”

“Absolutely not,” Luke grimaced, rubbing his temple with his free hand.

“Or they’ll send someone to check on you.”

“That’s such a waste of time,” he scoffed.

“Dad’s press tour is soon. The last thing you need while you’re recovering is for a bunch of delusional kids online to speculate about how you got hurt. They’ll probably find a way to romanticize it. You know how they are.”

“Leia,” Luke said sternly, though his tone was still gentle, “You know I don’t care about that stuff. They’ve been writing weird shit about me since I was sixteen. And if they publish something about me getting in a fight, that’s okay. It’s for me to worry about.”

“You’re right. Sorry,” she replied, sighing, “I don’t know where my head is at right now. I was so worried about you.”

Luke sighed too, standing from the bench to hug his sister.

“I’m fine, Leia,” he told her, and seeing how soft he was with her made your heart beat a little faster. He was a good brother.

“You should stay at our place,” Luke offered suddenly, meeting your eyes, “Since Han and Chewie won’t be home. I don’t want you to be there by yourself after tonight.”

You almost protested, feeling awkward invading their space like that, but then Leia spoke too.

“I think that’s a good idea. Especially with those men still on the loose,” she added.

“I don’t wanna intrude—“

“You won’t be. Please,” Luke interjected, looking at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Only if you’re sure it’s okay,” you reluctantly agreed.

“Of course,” he insisted, helping you stand, “It’s just me and Leia, so there’s nothing to stress about.”

You guys are basically aristocrats. How is that not stressful? you wanted to say, but you held your tongue, following them to the car where their driver was holding the door for you. The high quality leather seats felt alien to you when you sat down in the back with Luke. He must have noticed your discomfort, because he reached for your hand soon after. With little hesitation, you accepted, and he immediately tangled your fingers together, giving you one of his signature soft smiles. Even in the mostly dark vehicle, his eyes still shone brightly, and something about that fact made your cheeks flush.

You briefly wondered if you were getting too personally involved with the Skywalkers, but with Leia in the front seat telling the driver to take you all home and Luke in the back with his hand in yours, you knew that there was little you could do about it now.

[permanentreverie]

genuinely debating on whether I should bother with a reread before the daisy jones and the six show

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@jollyhunter

Okay, I'm finally home and this was such a wonderful thing to read through! It made my day 😊

Girl, let me tell you I was also giggling the entire time I wrote this. This fic was so self indulgent because the reader IS me, one billion percent, the awkward anxious person who has no idea how to catch someone's attention 😆 But I love it resonated with you too (but I'm also sorry it took you back to your past trauma lol 😂)

I love your writing style and especially the way you add humor!! Like this had me already cracking up - Butcher and the boys x LotR, where’s my funfic, hm??

Oh goodness THANK YOU SO MUCH! 🥰 I literally laugh to myself the whole time I write and most of the time I'm scared no one else will get the jokes, but thank you that really means a lot 💗 But YES the subtle Eomer drop... if you haven't read As Tradition Dictates, you need to because it's so good and it's been living rent free in my head since I read it. And oh my word the cross over would be wild- Soldier Boy does act like an Orc sometimes, but we love him for it anyway 🤣

It’s a real struggle 😭

Amen it is 🫶🏻

Sneaky bastard - I feel like he’s only saying that because he’s afraid that he will fall for her. (Probably already has and is taking his chance now since she’d basically friend zoned him 😂)

He could be... 😏 You could be getting dangerously close to the truth there my friend 😉

EDIT: I FORGOT TO COMMENT ON THE FRIGGIN LOCUSTS SUPE - I’d pay to see that scene; Butcher and Soldier Boy running from a swarm of locusts because they can’t punch or shoot their way out as usual and making a deal to never talk about this embarrassing moment again 🤣

You know, I am so happy you pointed this out, because I really didn't think that in depth about what that scene would look like. And I hate locusts so I was like... what supe power would just be too much for me. BUT THAT IS SO FUNNY! I can see Butcher firing off like two shots into the swarm, while Ben kinda holds up his shield half-heartedly debating if it's worth it (it's not), and the reader and Hughie are already in the car with all the windows rolled up just watching it unfold. Even funnier would be her not letting Butcher or Ben into the car because she doesn't want any of the locusts to get in and she's shooing the two of them away. 😂

NOW WHERE‘S MY PART TWO?? I’M READY

Running joke I have is that I really can't write a one-shot to save my life... and this fic is no exception. I would love to make this a series (and I sort of accidentally plotted one out for this lol). The problem is I'm trying to finish up a soulmate AU series I started last year for Soldier Boy called If The Stars Wish It So and I have a prompt celebration running so I want to finish up those two things before I start a series based on this fic... BUT I do want to, because I love fake dating and I think that I could make this exceptionally awkward and funny lol.

But I am so happy that you liked this one sweetie and thank you so much for all the lovely feedback! 💜

Promise Not To Fall In Love With Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader and a little bit of Billy Butcher x f!reader

Prompt: "I find him very attractive." /"I'm standing right here"/ "I know."

Requested by: @angrydragon90

Tropes: Fake Dating, Pining.

Summary:  When you first joined Butcher's team the last thing you expected was to develop a crush on him, but after two years of pining, you get a proposition from the last person you'd expect to care.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just in case (I don't really think it is). Some cursing, Sexual innuendo, References to sex, Over glorification of a man's shirtless body (I'm not complaining) Reader is a little anxious/anxiety/socially awkward? Drug use/Drinking (Soldier Boy), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (He's a warning, we all know it and somehow still love him for it).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: This is the third fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the incredible @angrydragon90 💗 Had to do something with a little bit of Valentine's Day spirit, but I'm going to be honest, this one turned into something that I didn't expect... let me know what y'all think. I also was thinking about @zepskies fic As Tradition Dictates for the more *ahem* gratuitous descriptions of Butcher 😉

Butcher’s muscles rippled over his bare chest and broad shoulders with every swing of the mighty axe down to the earth. Each strike of the axe against wood sent chips of bark flickering in the air around him like sparks. Sweat rolled down his sun kissed skin curving in the dips of his muscular torso, along the tensing muscles of his back, and through the dusting of hair on his torso, before disappearing into the waistband of the dark jeans hung low on his hips. 

Heat kisses your cheeks and darkens the skin the longer you watch him and you bite your lip hard to keep the appreciative sigh of the scene in front of you at bay. But it does little to stop your eyes which rove over the rugged man chopping wood. 

No man his age should look that good. 

Butcher props one of his feet up on the tree stump he’s been using as a table oblivious to your attention, shouldering the axe for a moment to glance at the stack of firewood he’d chopped, looking like a mighty warrior surveying his lands. 

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

You clear your throat, cheeks darkening crimson, and take in a shaky breath to dissipate the daydream that usually starred in several of your fantasies. The same ones that probably came from the romantasy book that you’d brought along on this trip and were too embarrassed to read when anyone else was awake.

He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, shuffling it back through his hair that turns a chestnut brown in the light of the setting sun that flickered through the thick forest surrounding the small cabin you were all staying in.

Oh to be a drop of sweat.

You think mournfully, taking a long sip of your lemonade out of a brightly colored bendy straw, the same lemonade that you’d made in hopes of enticing Butcher over for a break.

It had worked, but only for twenty seconds.

Twenty glorious seconds that you got to bask in Butcher’s presence so close that you could smell the familiar cologne and the scent of sweat clinging to his skin while he drank the lemonade and you tried not to stare at his bare chest for too long. You hoped that Butcher thought the flush on your cheeks had everything to do with the heat and nothing to do with all the things you were imagining him doing to you. 

And then there had been an additional two seconds when Butcher smiled at you and said “Thanks poppet” in the swoon worthy accent of his that made your knees weak before he sauntered back over to the woodpile and you watched him go shamelessly. 

Hughie says something to Butcher you can’t hear, but it makes Butcher laugh. He throws his head back with a wide grin that makes you sigh to yourself again, hands tensing where they sit poised over the tangle of wires in your lap. 

You were supposed to be working on a new gadget to help grapple up buildings, one that you and Frenchie had designed together, but you were distracted by Butcher. 

You were always distracted by him. 

It had been three days since Butcher, Soldier Boy, Hughie, and you arrived at the cabin in the middle of nowhere after a mission went wrong. The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

You had a sneaking suspicion that MM and Frenchie had something to do with the miscommunication, given how eager they had been to stay behind at headquarters and do paperwork, and the secretive smiles they had shared at the briefing before your team left.

But needless to say, none of you had been eager to live through a reenactment of the eighth plague and all decided to lay low to consider your options, while hoping the locust supe didn’t decimate all of the corn in the midwest.

You shudder remembering the crawl of the scratchy legs along your skin, the flapping of millions of wings like the beat of a drum, the crunch of locusts underfoot, and the low pitched hum of the swarm that vibrated so loud it made you feel your body shaking from the inside out. 

At this point I would have taken a swarm of guinea pigs.

The cabin wasn’t the worst place you’d stayed at in all the time you’d worked with Butcher. There was running water and several rooms inside including two bedrooms with lumpy pillows and mattresses with creaking springs, a living room with a sagging floral couch, and a threadbare kitchen with dusty cabinets and doors that fell off whenever someone tried to open one. 

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing. 

Sure the cabin had it’s quirks, but the real problem was that the four of you were trapped here in the middle of summer with a generator that only did so much for electricity, but had no air conditioning whatsoever, which meant it was cooler to sit outside on the porch than inside the sweltering cabin. 

Overall, it had been three days of nothing, but listening to Soldier Boy bitch about the lack of extracurricular activities, three days of nothing but hearing the soft chuckle under Hughie’s breath when he texted Annie, and three days of nothing but you lusting after a man who was twice your age chopping wood.

Why was he chopping wood when it was so hot and none of you needed it… You had no idea, but you figured that the universe was finally throwing you a bone because you got to watch him do it.

The porch was cooler than sitting inside. There were two creaky rocking chairs that faced the overgrown “front yard” that was more of a clearing and the breeze did weave under the overhang of the roof to wick the sweat that gathered at the back of your neck, but the problem was, it was impossible for you to feel anything but warm, especially with what was unfolding in front of you. 

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up.

You think to yourself watching Butcher lean down to pick up another piece of wood, admiring the way his worn dark jeans cup his muscular ass.

Fuck, I’m just as bad as Soldier Boy. 

The truth was, you’d been crushing on Butcher for the better part of two years since the moment the two of you met on your first day when you’d tripped and dropped the giant pile of blueprints you were carrying to your desk and he was the only one who stopped to help you pick them up. 

After Homelander had been stripped of his powers and exposed for the narcissistic psychotic freak he was, you’d started working at Supe Affairs, thinking that it was the perfect way for you to make a difference in a world reeling from the revelation. It had shaken quite a few people to know that the so-called heroes they looked up to were in fact just as crooked as a line drawn by an elephant on a tricycle. 

But you liked your job… sometimes. 

Sure, the pay sucked, the benefits were dismal and the hours were long, but you didn’t care about any of that. You felt like you were making a difference, using the engineering degree that your dad had insisted on for something other than trying to figure out how to build a bridge that withstood the force of a punch from someone as strong as Homelander. 

And you hadn’t meant to develop a crush on William Butcher of all people, you swore that each day to yourself, but it happened without warning. He was nice to you, he always had your back on missions, and sometimes when you were working on something after hours on a mission- like the gadget in your lap- Butcher would sit with you while everyone else slept, nursing a glass of whatever it was he had, and he always made you feel like a valued member of the team.

Yes, he might be a little rough around the edges, but you liked that about him, that he didn’t pull punches, rather he told it like it was. It was refreshing in the world you lived in when everyone else was so afraid of offending someone that they just kept their mouths shut. 

But the problem was that you were younger than him and a little inexperienced. 

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

That might be a little harsh, he knew you existed, obviously, but rather he didn’t see you as anything more than a teammate or at least like a little sister. The nicknames that he called you were all some form of “kiddo” or “poppet.” Nothing like the things you’d read about men calling the women they loved in books or heard in movies. 

The most experience you had in the realm of love and relationships was binge watching Sex and The City (you could quote it by heart), flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine and other articles about love on the internet like they were opioids, and reading through romance novels reverently as if they held the secrets of the universe. 

Not to mention the draft of the romance novel on your computer… but you’d go to the grave before anyone ever saw that, and if they did see it you’d take them with you. 

Reading about relationships was easier than having one, at least that was what you told yourself to feel better. It also didn’t help that you’d seen two out of three sisters married with kids, with the third one getting married in a few weeks and you without even a shadow of a date for the wedding.

That meant you would be stuck at the awkward reject table again with your weird fourth cousin who always came on to you and tried to show you the rooster tattoo he had on his hip bone, your dad’s brother who cleaned his dentures in public after he ate and his wife who always asked you what you were “doing” with your life and curled her lip up in distaste no matter what you said, and the gaggle of their ungrateful children who were always sticky for some reason and chewed with their mouths open while spilling food all over the table like cavemen.

Sitting there with them made facing the locust supe more appealing.

But even with the pressure of trying to find someone, anyone to take, you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell Butcher how you felt about him. 

Butcher glances over as if he can sense you and you immediately drop your eyes to the bundle of gears and wires in your lap pretending to fiddle with something that doesn’t need to be fixed.

Yes, because that’s the way I’m going to win him over, by making absolutely no eye contact. Perfect, masterful. What can go wrong?

What the books, magazines, tv shows, and movies didn’t prepare you for was how to find the courage to talk to someone of the opposite sex without feeling like your tongue was going to drop out of your mouth or like you were going to throw up. 

You wait a few beats until you’re sure that he’s no longer looking at you before you raise your head to watch Butcher again. 

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

“What?” You ask him. 

He exhales a long and obnoxious cloud of foul smelling smoke from the joint he has in his hand. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here eye-fucking that asshole and you yell at me for staring at you.” He chuckles with a wide smirk as he takes another hit from the blunt.

How can he smoke that? It’s like 100 degrees out here!

“I am not!” You reply as loudly as you dare, glancing over to Butcher to make sure that he didn’t hear Ben’s comment, anxiety prickling along the back of your neck, but he’s still talking to Hughie about something. “And you don’t just stare at me! You come up behind me like some gremlin out of hell, with your big hands and-”

“We both know how much you like the attention doll.”

“I do not!” Your cheeks flare bright red. 

The only downside to working on Butcher’s team was sitting directly next to you. When you found out that you’d be working with Soldier Boy, one of your dad’s favorite heroes, you were excited to meet him, and then you had and he turned into another giant disappointment. He was loud, brash, short-tempered, rude, and was always either ogling you, coming on to you, smoking something, or drinking. 

You supposed it could be worse. You didn’t hate him, and you got along with him, but he was always around. The plus side was that Ben was the one of the only people you didn’t have a hard time talking to.

Yes, he was attractive, but his particular lifestyle didn’t appeal to you and for that reason whatever nerves you had about talking to attractive men of the opposite sex evaporated when it came to Ben. 

It was unfortunate that such a skill was wasted on him of all people.

“I just-” You hesitate, eyes dropping back down to the grappling device in your lap, not sure why you’re about to admit this to Soldier Boy when you haven’t been able to admit it to anyone else. 

Probably because I’m sick of singing the line from Frozen “conceal don’t feel” over and over in my head.

“I find him extremely attractive.” You mumble on a shaky breath. 

“I’m sitting right here.” The frown in Ben’s voice is prominent, but it only makes you roll your eyes at him. 

“I know.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why are you looking at him when you could have my full attention.” He leans forward, dark hair falling forward into his eyes, mouth pulling up in a confident smirk. "I mean there's nothing else to fucking do, might as well do me."

Your cheeks flush with his words, but you tilt your head to the side to study him, eyes slipping over his rugged features. Tracing over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks, the brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow, the way his muscular body filled out his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the soft dusting of freckles that contrasted the hardness of the man he was flecked over his skin, and his full lips that are curved up in a sinful smirk that would make even the strongest woman crumble. 

But not you. Ben was… Ben. He was brash, obnoxious, handsy, impatient, and disrespectful. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

Sure you didn’t work with him often, but you believed you had a pretty good grasp on the kind of person he was. You did, right?

“You’re not my type Benny.” Your eyes flick back to the project in your lap, moving your fingers deftly through the wires of the internal mechanism.

Ben recoils at the use of his nickname, but he recovers with a low chuckle. “Don’t call me that and I’m everybody's type.”

“Not mine. I don’t like supes.”

You weren’t sure if that was 100% true. You liked Kimiko. What you meant to say was that you didn’t like supes like him. Supes that used his powers without care for the consequences, Supes like Homelander who didn’t give a shit who got hurt as long as the job was done. 

And you weren’t a supe, which meant that if you were with a supe there was always the possibility of you dying during sex or dying before you had sex in the first place. Your job also presented the possibility of you dying before you’d had sex, but you weren’t going to let that hold you back.

“But Butcher has-” Ben begins to say.

“Temporary powers. Not all the time.” You correct, unable to stop your eyes from drifting back over to where Butcher has begun to start swinging the axe again. “And look at him. Fuck, he’s over there like Paul Bunyan, rugged, chopping wood-” You sigh continuing to watch the man who probably has no idea you exist.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I could do that.”

You don’t pay Ben any attention, because Butcher is bending over again and you bite the inside of your cheek hard. 

Ben sits there for another few beats watching you watch Butcher. The wind chimes that hang above your heads jingle merrily as the breeze picks up once more bringing the smell of the wild flowers and wet earth from the forest surrounding the cabin. 

“You know I could help you.” Ben says slowly.

Your eyes flick back to Ben from Butcher in confusion. “Help me?”

What is he talking about? Does he think he can figure out how to fix the grapple gun? The other day he couldn’t figure out how to open the automatic trunk of a car and he just ripped the trunk door right off.

“Get him.” Ben nods his head in Butcher’s direction, but you’re still confused.

“How?”

And why? Why does Soldier Boy want to help me of all people?

“Well, I could help you make him jealous.” Ben leans towards you, his eyes sweeping once over you as he does, lingering too long on your chest and the edge of the jean shorts you were wearing.

“And how would you do that?”

“Well for starters you could come sit on my lap baby, see how you like it.” Ben winks. “Take me for a little ride.”

“Pass.” You roll your eyes. 

“Oh I see you want to have a more advanced lesson.” He smiles, scooting his chair towards yours, a dull scrape of wood on wood, so now his knee is touching yours. “He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

“No thanks.” You interrupt, face flushing when you imagine what he was about to say.

Ben stiffens in surprise. “What?”

“I’m good.” You shrug. “I’m gonna get him the old fashioned way.”

The same old fashioned way that I’ve been using for the past two years and had absolutely no results.

“And what way is that? Pining after him and hoping that one day he’ll finally notice you?” Ben scoffs. “I can see how well that’s working for you doll-face. How long have you been working with him?”

“Two years-”

“Fuck, two years?” Ben sputters. “You should just tell him that you want him to fuck you.” 

“That won’t work.”

Ben’s face scrunches in confusion, the joint clasped in between his thumb and forefinger forgotten. “Why the hell not?”

“Because-” You glance down at your hands, thumb running along the jagged edge of the grappling hook slightly embarrassed. The last thing you wanted to tell Soldier Boy was that you were a virgin. The guy would mock you endlessly. “Because I’m younger than him and he’s-”

He’s experienced. 

“So? You think that he hasn’t thought about fucking you?” Ben takes a long sip from the whiskey sitting beside his chair. “He’d be lucky to have a little piece like you.”

You blink in surprise. It was the closest to a compliment that Ben had ever given you. He did tend to compliment your figure whenever you were around, but you usually ignored that because he did that to everyone. 

Truthfully, the thought of dating Ben didn’t appeal to you at all, but the thought of using him to make Butcher jealous was not a terrible one. And at this point, you didn’t have anything to lose. 

Well… except THAT, but you wanted it to be special, at least that’s what you’d always told yourself.

You sigh, a little frustrated, watching Butcher out of the corner of your eye swing the axe in a glorious arch to the earth. You weren’t sure how to get Butcher’s attention. You’d tried the usual things…

Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation.

Gone completely mute when he asked you a question.

Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room.

Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

Basically the social anxiety was working wonders on the office romance you wanted so badly. 

“Ben?” You say tentatively, hands tightening on the contraption in your lap. At this rate you were never going to fix it and Butcher was going to have to figure out how to fly. 

“Yes, gorgeous?” Ben raises an eyebrow. The blunt is between his lips now and he’s looking at you curiously.

“If we did pretend to be…” You swallow nervously. 

“Fucking?” He leans forward eagerly, eyes twinkling with interest.

Well… I’ve never understood what it meant when someone wrote “his eyes darkened” until this very moment. 

“Dating” You correct holding up a finger.

Does his mind always go to the gutter?

You remember everything you think you know about Ben.

Yes. Yes it does.

Ben leans back with a frown. “I don’t date.”

“Well it wouldn’t be real! You’d just be helping me make him jealous and it would be nice to have a little practice maybe…”

“Practice?” He looks confused. It wasn’t the first time he had in this conversation or within the last five minutes, but like hell you were about to admit without at least one drink to Soldier Boy the extent of your dating life.

“Yeah. I’m not the best at talking to people or-”

“You’re talking just fine right now.”

“You’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you annoy me and I don’t know you’re easier to talk to for some reason!” 

“Thanks.” Ben says dryly. 

By now all the anxious energy has begun to pop and crackle against your skin at the thought of what the two of you could be doing and at the thought of you two actually pulling this off and you having a shot with Butcher. Not just a shot in hell, a real shot.

“But if you’re serious about helping me get him-“ You continue.

“I was.”

It was odd that he was the one who had suggested this in the first place, and even weirder that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to be doing this. 

Maybe he thinks that we’re going to have sex. Your throat tightened at the thought, eyes widening, your nerve endings electrifying with anxiety. Oh holy fuck what if he thinks that if we do this he’ll get to do whatever he wants to me?

You clear your throat, heart beating just a little bit harder in your chest. The entire situation was making you regret the extra cup of coffee you had this morning. “What exactly would I have to do?” You don’t recognize your voice. It comes out a little more wobbly and just a little more tentative than it was. 

You didn’t know what Ben was expecting you to do and you didn’t want to say yes, only for him to force you into sleeping with him like he’d suggested earlier, the most you'd thought the two of you would do is just make out a little-

Oh holy fuck then we’d have to kiss and I don’t know if I’m a good kisser and he’s definitely kissed more than one person not to mention he’s-

The thought made you flush to the roots of your hair. 

Ben hesitates, eyeing you and you wonder if he can hear the deranged monologue inside your head or if he can hear just how hard your heart was beating. You hoped not. 

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, doll. I’m not going to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” There’s something genuine in his eyes when he answers your question, something that you’d never noticed before. 

Your mouth drops open in surprise. 

It wasn’t that you believed that Ben was that kind of man, but rather that what he just said to you might have been the most caring thing that he’d ever uttered in front of you. He was the last person that you’d expect to care about someone being uncomfortable or care if someone else was okay with everything that was happening in the bedroom.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

In all honesty you only knew the way Ben acted, you didn’t know anything about his life. The man kept his cards closer to his chest than a well-seasoned card player and his poker face, forget it. You couldn’t crack that combination even if you wanted to. 

Everything else you'd heard about him was through the grapevine of gossip at work. None of it was first hand.

Ben sighs and shakes his head at you as if he’s a little annoyed with himself for saying that out loud. “But I still think it would be easier if you just told him that you wanted him to fuck you. Would’ve worked on me.”

“I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

And it was true. You could take down a target, diffuse a bomb in less than ten seconds with a thin mint and a bobby pin, but saying something out loud like that to something else made you feel nauseous.

Ben hesitates again and in his hesitation the anxiety and embarrassment starts to come soaring back into your chest.

You were asking Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, to pretend to date you so Billy Butcher would fall in love with you. 

Well kids, this must be what rock bottom feels like. I might as well just pray that the locusts come back to take me away. 

“Fine.” Ben states. 

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

“We’d have to have rules.” You blurt, and Ben makes a face.

“Rules? Never been too good with those, Sweetheart.”

“And I’d need you to promise that you wouldn’t-” 

You lose your train of thought in the wind chimes that rattle over your head and the sound of Butcher’s laugh.

“Wouldn’t?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Lose control.”

Honestly, sometimes you were a little afraid of Ben. You’d never say that out loud or admit it, but he was stronger than Homelander.

You knew Ben's reputation around the office- heard the hushed whispers of the women in the break room who said he was the best fuck of their lives, heard the horror stories of what he did to his old team, and had seen first hand what his temper was like. You also knew about his powers and worried that Ben might have a little bit of a control problem or at the very least anger management issues.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you if that’s what you think.” Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at your insinuation. “I’m not some fucking monster, doll.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-”

Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Keep it together… 

“I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either.” Ben’s green eyes are focused on yours, and you can see just a sliver of emotion behind them that you can’t identify. “But if we’re going to do this you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

“You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me.” He sends you a saucy wink that makes you want to punch the strongest man on earth, instead you settle for pushing him back from you.

But you’re not prepared for the wave of disappointment you feel when he lets go of your chin. 

“I’m not in any danger of that Benny. You’re not half as smooth as you think you are.” You start to lean back in your chair, but Ben reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle, the contact burning through your body, as he pulls you forward, so close you can smell his cologne. Somehow it's something that smells classic and modern at the same time, a hint of spice that tickles your nose and makes your throat tight. 

His voice lowers into a purr that vibrates through his chest, his next words expelled on a warm breath that weaves through the air between the two of you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.” 

What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Again, not what I was expecting, but I really love this one y'all and I probably laughed way too hard at bits when I was writing it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

Taglist

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @waynes-multiverse

@jollyhunter

[starry-bi-sky]

tales of the passerine - danny fenton being bruce wayne's first kid

okay okay. so this is like a continuation/elaboration of my oneshot/prompt i wrote about the idea that Danny was the first batkid. We have a lot of aus where he joins the family after the rest of the bats do, right? So hey! Lets shake things up a bit. Danny is the first to be adopted by Bruce Wayne.

Danny's parents and unfortunately Jazz die shortly after the events of TUE -- how so? I was gonna say an ecto-filter explosion, that would call back to the TUE explosion and trauma behind that. But lets do something new! Carbon-monoxide poisoning.

It's not too unexpected for something to break in the Fenton house, especially with the Fenton parents' questionable understanding of proper weapon handling and lab safety. The water heater broke from a stray shot by one of the weapons, and was promptly MacGyver'd incorrectly. Danny went to stay with Tucker for a guys' night, and came back to a dead silent house.

(Danny's neighbors got a very unfortunate shock when he ran to the next house over in hysterics.)

There was a lot of shuffling around with CPS, the police. People had to be called in to handle the equipment in the lab, and the GIW was rumoring to show up in aid to clearing the scene. When Danny heard of that, he immediately went and dismantled the ghost portal to the best of his abilities. He burned the physical blueprints of all his parents' inventions, their blueprints on the ghost portal, and their most dangerous weapons were destroyed beyond recognition. Anything to prevent the GIW from getting their hands on his parents' tech.

It opened up another investigation, but he was not under the list of suspects. He was placed in the care of Vlad Masters, where they then went back to the rebuilt castle mansion in Wisconsin. Danny, terrified of the future that has once passed and may do so again, shuts down in his grief. Inadvertently, he ends up somewhat repressing his ghost half. Something Vlad, who is grieving Madeline but relishing in Jack's demise and his custody of Daniel, is not very happy with.

Vlad's... gone into a bit of a mental health spiral. He's becoming increasingly possessive over Daniel, the final remnants of his friends and a liminal being like him. He doesn't like that Danny's repressing his ghost half -- both out of genuine concern as a ghost, but also because of his desire to control Danny and groom him into the perfect son. If you ever had a phase where you read Dark SBI found family fics, first off; me too bro, and second off; those are the vibes I'm thinking of.

Danny's mentally shut down from grief! And fear. He's dropped into a bad depressive state -- paralyzed with grief and the terror of the inevitable. Clockwork saved his parents because he believes in second chances, but what's the point of that when his family ended up dead anyways? Danny doesn't wanna believe that he's destined to become evil, and he's holding out onto that hope, but it's a thin line, and he feels utterly hopeless and trapped. He hasn't used his powers or ghost form since he trashed the lab, and Vlad has alarms set up to prevent him from trying to escape.

He's also unintentionally cut off Sam and Tucker -- both of whom are so scared and concerned for Danny too, and are trying their damndest to reach out to him. He keeps ignoring their texts. Danny basically haunts Vlad's manor. He goes out to eat if he has to, attends parties Vlad drags him to, and stays in his room all day if he can.

At parties, Vlad doesn't allow Danny to leave his side, or really talk to anyone -- not that Danny wants to. A product of Vlad's increasing possessiveness. Well, he almost doesn't let Danny leave his side. Danny has a habit of slipping off to hide somewhere for the parties whenever he can, and Vlad reluctantly allows it so long as he stays alone.

This becomes an advantage when eventually, Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham after missing for years, and holds a bright charity ball to celebrate the return. Vlad has been chomping at the bits to get his hands on Wayne Industries, and with the return of its owner there is no better opportunity to wipe out his rival. He goes, and he as normal, brings Daniel with him.

Vlad thinks Wayne will bleed his little heart out for Daniel's poor orphan sob story -- he's a fellow orphan himself, after all. He's not wrong; Wayne's little heart will bleed, just not in the way that benefits him.

Bruce sees Vlad and Danny approaching before they're even close enough to introduce themselves - and like with many of the children he will soon come to care for, it's like someone set a mirror into the past right in front of him.

Danny Fenton's suit is tailor-made for him, and despite the fact that it's his perfect size, the sag in his shoulders, the ducked down head, and the way he hunches into himself all pictures the image of a child in shoes too big for him. There's a far away, glazed over look in his eyes and grief marble-cut into the lines of his face. There's not enough makeup in the world that will hide the dark circles under his eyes.

("My nephew, Daniel Fenton." Vlad's hands are possessive on Danny's shoulders. Bruce immediately notices the way the boy tenses under his touch. "His parents passed recently, and as his godfather I was designated his guardian.") ("I'm so sorry, the loss must've been terrible.") ("Yes, carbon-monoxide poisoning caused it. Daniel was out with friends, when he came home... they had already passed.") (Bruce immediately dislikes that Vlad shared the details of their death unprompted -- he likes it even less when Danny flinches at the reminder and hunches into himself.)

Danny runs off at some point earlier into the charity. At this point, parties are still being held at Wayne Manor (because iirc google search mentioned that was a thing at first before it was changed), so he disappears and hides in one of the empty rooms nearby. It just so happens to be the same room Bruce Wayne hides in when he needs a break from all of the socialization.

Thus begins a long, long process of trust. Bruce can't reveal his hand as being smarter than he looks, but he can be compassionate. Kindness needs no measure of intelligence. He keeps Danny company for as long as he can before he runs the risk of being found.

Rinse and repeat. Vlad insistently wants Wayne Industries, and he'll go to as many Wayne parties as he can to get his hooks into the man. The problem is that Bruce Wayne is never alone, and getting him alone is impossible. Finding him too. It's like the man never stops moving. Always talking to someone, always circling somewhere. He orbits around the room as if he isn't the sun of the Gotham Elite's solar system.

Danny's had such repetitive behavior that Vlad never thinks to believe that Bruce Wayne is disappearing to go talk to him. That "Vlad's" son is even interacting with him at all. Danny never gives him a reason to think so, and neither does Bruce.

Danny doesn't actually acknowledge Bruce until a handful of parties in, where he hands Bruce a small slip of paper he smuggled in that says; "don't trust Vlad". Danny's face stays carefully blank, but he's so tense that his hands are trembling, and he's purposely looking away from him. Bruce plasters a smile onto his face, slips the paper into his pocket, and tells him "okay".

(he's been busy with his own goals with the mafia, but he sets aside time to investigate Vlad Masters. He was holding off. Until now.)

Danny does eventually start speaking to Bruce, he's starting to really like the guy. He's starting to see a little hope, even as Vlad is starting to get more and more agitated with him the more he refuses to use his powers.

He reaches out to Sam and Tucker again, and starts trying to reconnect with them. Vlad has spyware on his phone, and he limits the amount of times he can talk to them. A weird parental control lock of some sort that leaves a time limit on how long he can talk to them for. 30 minutes. Danny doesn't tell them anything about Mr. Wayne.

Danny, slowly, wants out of here, and he's slowly gathering the motivation to do it. Vlad is genuinely scaring him -- and Danny wonders just how truthful the past-future Vlad was when he told him that Danny wanted his ghost half separate. He starts trying to come up with an escape plan.

Vlad has anti-ghost wards everywhere around the mansion, and while they're always on, they boost to full power at sunset. The doors and windows are always locked, all main exits have alarms set on them. The only reason it's not super extensive is because Danny hasn't tried leaving at all yet, so Vlad hasn't had to tighten anything.

At night, Vlad locks the door to his room and puts up an anti-ghost ward around the room. The mansion is on the outside westward side of Madison, more entrenched in rural Wisconsin. The closest town is a four-way stop sign with one house on three corners, and an open bar on the fourth. Not much to go.

He refuses to go to Sam and Tucker; Vlad would look there first. It's too dangerous. Vlad would sound alarm bells and have a manhunt looking for him, Danny can't risk going just anywhere. Too much risk of being found, sold out, or caught. There's really nowhere for him to hide.

Until there is. Bruce is telling Danny about the history of Wayne Manor, and says, as casually as saying the weather; "The manor has dozens of empty rooms, I'm sure Alfred wouldn't mind filling another one if he could." And quietly, hesitantly, Bruce places a careful hand on Danny's shoulder, unrestrictive and gentle; "He wouldn't mind getting one ready for you if you need one."

And there it is. There's his out.

Danny, just as quietly, replies; "I'll keep that in mind."

The ball starts rolling.

Now I've been trying to summarize this au as much as possible for length convenience, but Vlad has been steadily growing more and more controlling. More emotionally manipulative. More agitated at Danny for not using his powers.

He wants Wayne Industries under his thumb but he's been steadily growing more and more concerned with Danny. He's started grabbing him, yanking him around, shaking him; trying to goad him into using his powers. He gets angry when Danny doesn't react, or tells him he doesn't want to use his powers. He hasn't outright attacked him, but he's getting there. This has been happening over the time it takes for Bruce to indirectly offer Danny sanctuary at his home.

It all comes to a head when Vlad stops going to parties at all -- something Danny has to pretend he isn't upset about -- because Vlad doesn't want him around other people anymore. Vlad rarely goes now without him, and only leaves to go to a Wayne function or to handle something at VladCo.

Danny can't wait for Vlad to leave long enough to escape. So he leaves during the night of a big storm. Vlad's locked him in his room, but Danny doesn't bother trying to go for it; he goes to the alarmed window instead. Danny's been repressing his ghost half so long that he can't access his powers immediately anymore -- he can feel it, he knows its there, but he can't quite reach it.

He breaks the lock by hand.

Immediately the alarm goes off through the entire castle, filling the room with red, and he scrambles for the rope the Wisconsin Ghost left for him a few months back. Danny's already out and climbing down the side of the castle before Vlad even reaches his door -- the only good thing about the entire room being ghost-proof is that Vlad can't get in that way.

The rope ends before it reaches the bottom, and he's still twenty feet in the air. It won't kill him if he lands it right. Danny takes his chances, and drops. He breaks his ankle, but he survives.

And he fucking books it to the back garden. He hears Vlad shrieking over the thunder and rain.

I'll save the full experience for a future oneshot, but Danny makes it out into the nearby woods and forcibly experiences what it's like to be in a horror game, trying to hide from the thing that's hunting you. There's only one thing going through his mind; "i'm going to die"

I have this mental image for this scene. Very stereotypical horror imo. Where Danny is hiding behind a tree, with a hand over his mouth, and Vlad is a few feet away from him, glowing ominously red through the trees, trying to search for him.

Danny doesn't get away from this unscathed, but he does get away alive. That's all he could ask for. He gets away by getting his ghost half awakened long enough to transform into Phantom and fly to Gotham.

But he gets to Wayne Manor, he gets to Bruce. Or, at least, Alfred answers the door from his insistent pounding. Danny's just in tears and Alfred gets him in the living room, wrapped in a towel, with ice on his swollen leg before he has to step out and alert Bruce.

Bruce already breaks multiple traffic laws on a nightly basis. And that's just with the sheer existence of the batmobile itself, not including the speeding and military artillery attached. He breaks double the amount trying to speed back to the cave and get out of the suit.

Right off the bat: Bruce will know, at least before Dick enters the picture, about danny's powers. He'll figure out something considering the fact that Danny traveled from Wisconsin to New York in a single night. That'll be a bit of complicated affair, but I've already got something in mind.

Actually it'll probably be very soon after Danny joins the family, because Bruce tries to offer to fight for custody for Danny - the state Danny was in at arrival is clear enough evidence for a trial. But Danny immediately shuts it down, says it's not going to work and then Vlad will know Danny's with him and he won't be safe. He tells him that Vlad cannot know Danny was with Bruce.

Danny's biggest regret was not telling his parents he was a halfa, and while he doesn't want to tell mister wayne (yet), he does tell him about Vlad being one. He needs to know why Danny can't be seen with Bruce. So he tells him, and Danny's current plan is to just hide out from Vlad until he turns 18. That way, he has no more legal jurisdiction over him. After that? He's not sure.

And to wrap this up, since this has already gotten very long and I can make more posts about this au later; I've thought about it, and I'm going to say that Danny does become a vigilante before Dick enters the scene. He goes by, as you probably guessed; Nightingale. "Gale" for short.

[hemorrhoidbabe69]

Pokemon ive heard of em

[fisherrprince]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock

[filmfactors]

why did u dislike stand by me? other than the art style

While you said aside from art style, I'll say it's worse than I thought it'd be. I hate when the characters open their terrible no tooth mouths, they do it so much it's hard to ignore and it's awful to look at. Aside from the uncanny factor though, the backgrounds and scenery look nice.

As for the movie itself, I feel like it just highlights everything I don't really like about the Doraemon series? From the Nobita and Shizuka """romance""", to the weird perverted jokes at Shizuka's expense. I'm also in general not a fan of the 'Doraemon leaves/April Fools' story they used at the end, so I wasn't happy to see it again and in a movie I could care less about.

It doesn't feel like anything changes or progresses, it doesn't make me believe Nobita ever grows to be his own person that can take care of himself, that they don't set anything up for any of the payoff it gives...

They throw in some dialogue about Nobita being depressed, they use sad lighting, and they use tears but they never are actually saying anything meaningful. It just feels like tools to cheat you into feeling sad but it really had the opposite effect on me, I just felt annoyed because the emotional moments do not feel earned.

When Nobita drinks the juice that makes people hate him and Shizuka fights against it to comfort him, that should be a moment that moves you... a triumph and instead I just sit there and don't feel very moved because it didn't feel like there was any progression in their relationship to earn this? Like the idea I like, it's sweet inherently but it doesn't play out in a way that makes me engaged in the story.

Everyone takes a backseat for Nobita's obsession with Shizuka which I think, is the worst thing you could make the focus. I know it's an important part of the plot but I've never liked it, I've already discussed how Shizuka doesn't feel like her own person but just a prize to be won by Nobita in the end... when movies, episodes, etc focus on it so much- it makes me believe in their relationship less and less.

I'm sorry but putting her in a weird outfit for your benefit, trying to force her to fall in love with you via imprinting, up-skirting her in public.... it doesn't make me root for him. Those things in the series have done the opposite of make me root for them, especially contrasted with how Dekisugi treats her. It makes me wonder why on earth she'd pick Nobita in any universe, but specifically this one?

Also something, something... how marrying Jaiko was not the issue and Nobita's misery is his own fault, but yeah sure let's focus on what wife this ten year old gets in the future.

It's especially horrible hearing her say, during the blizzard in the cave, "You need someone to take care of you." As a reason to marry Nobita, as a reason to say yes to the proposal... SHE'S TOO GOOD FOR HIM IN THIS MOVIE! Sorry to say. That is not a wife, that's a mother- it's not love it just feels like pity.

Nobita needs to learn some actual self love and not betting all his happiness on a marriage years from now. Putting all his points into one person for some distant goal is a bad idea, what about the now? What about building bonds with his friends, his family? What about fixing himself as he is now.

I get the point is that somehow earning Shizuka's love will help him, make him a better person, but it doesn't feel like it. It also just feels.... not good. I would talk about the reliance on gadgets instead of self help in any way, but that's always been a thing.

Anyhow, it's a movie that exists for people who are already a fan of the franchise to trick you into thinking it's emotional because your knowledge and feel for the characters already give you depth for them. It feels like it's trying to get cheap and easy tears out of you and I don't really care for that.

It's also a whirlwind of stories I already know, done a bit worse for some in a bad art style. It was doomed to be a movie I don't like. I just can't think of anything positive I felt from it that I couldn't get better in any other Doraemon movie, chapter or even episode.

[werewolf-apologist]

ppl who complain that muto hates finn or that the show loses focus on finn bc it also includes side character episodes……..are u ok

[selfcarecap]

MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

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

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

word count: 7.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could give it to you. 

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

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

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

Sappy motherfucker. 

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

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

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

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

He wakes up with morning wood. 

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

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

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

It’s soo stupid. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you draw it?” He asks. 

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

“Secret admirer?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You drew this?” you ask.

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

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one else knows.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

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

“I love your drawings so much.”

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

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

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

“I’m already yours.”

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

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

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Miss ma’am, hi hello how are you?

I am presenting myself here, very very humbly to ask if we could please get another part of your Nerd Nanami fic?🥹🥹 please please puhleaseeeeeeeee

That was an actual masterpiece, I had to read it very slowly and savour it, making sure to process every single sentence of that fic. You’re so talented it makes me cry

Please offer us more Nanami, pleaseeeeeee

Giving the nerd a chance… part two

Tags: nerd!Nanami x fem!Reader, college au, smut with plot, nsfw, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, size kink, breeding kink, dom!nanami, sub!reader, marathon sex, exhibitionism if you squint real hard, mdni

Synopsis: Your nerdy boyfriend is so prim and proper in real life, but he has big dick energy over text.

An: 4K Follower Special! I got over 20 requests for a part two of this fic. At this time, it is my best performing fic on tumblr, and I fear… I may have peaked with it. I never EVER intended on writing a second part because I was sure that I couldn’t ever follow that fic up with something as good, but this sweet anon request warmed my heart so much that I decided to give the people what they’re asking for. This one’s going to be a long one… pace yourself because there will NOT be a third part… right?

Nanami’s a stoic lover. He doesn’t keep you hidden, but he doesn’t outwardly drag attention towards your relationship. Too much attention meant drama, and Nanami hates drama.

Nanami asked you to be his girlfriend a few weeks after the first time you two slept together. Of course, everyone in his friend group saw it coming long before you two had even hooked up.

They saw the longing gazes between you two when you pined for each other. They saw the cheeky glances once you two finally started texting. They noticed how their dear friend smiled more — was more laid back and relaxed.

Everyone welcomed you into their small found family with open arms. They simply couldn’t have picked anyone better to balance out Nanami’s far too strict nature.

Things with Nanami were absolutely a dream. You two had great chemistry emotionally and physically. Of course, he just made things so easy for you.

While he is a stoic lover, you never ever feel unloved by him. He’s always there to reassure you with words of affirmation or small touches that just remind you that he’s there.

Like when you two are at one of Satoru’s “exclusive” gatherings, if you’re not in Nanami’s lap, then he’s got his hand on you somewhere. Sometimes he gets so bored during those little get togethers that he spends his time leisurely pressing kisses into your cheek and neck. He never quite understood Satoru’s and Suguru’s affinity with public displays of affection until he met you.

Or there's those times when you need a little extra help with your studies. Kento is right behind you, with you on his lap, his cock is snuggly being squeezed by your warm leaking cunt. He presses small chaste kisses against your temple and ear while you try your hardest to focus on the homework.

"Do you remember this one, sweetheart? We went over it in class yesterday... Aw, don't go all stupid on me now."

When you get an answer right, he'll reward you with small, shallow thrusts, but you have to finish the whole assignment to get him to really fuck you.

Or if you two are walking together in the halls, Nanami holds his arm out for you, letting you latch onto him so he can guide you two through the crowd of people. He knows how you are in crowded areas, so he's keen on not letting anyone get too close to you.

Nanami’s a true gentleman too. His parents made sure they raised nothing less than a perfect man. You’ve never had to touch a door handle, any of your own money, or bags when you two go shopping. Nanami handles all of that for you. He doesn’t let you walk on the outside when you two are on the sidewalk. He’s respectful of you and your time, and he always listens to everything you have to say with his full attention because you deserve nothing less.

Nanami’s parents truly did their best work with him, and speaking of his parents, Nanami’s the type that wants to take you back home to meet them.

It was nearly fall break as you were sitting in your experimental research class — your final class before you’re free from the hell hole of academics for a full week.

You glance down at your phone as it buzzes in your lap. You and Nanami had been planning a trip out to his family’s home in Hakone for a little bit now, and the closer that time gets to you two leaving, the more stressed out Nanami feels.

Nanami: We’ll probably leave out early tomorrow morning and catch the first train. Will you be okay with that?

Yn: Mhm. That sounds fine, Ken.

Nanami: After class, I need to inform you a little bit more about my parents… I just don’t want you to feel shocked or surprised when you meet them.

Yn: I’m not sure why I’d be shocked or surprised, but I’m excited to hear more.

Nanami: Don’t get too excited.

You stare at his message for a bit, pondering what he could’ve meant by that. He hadn’t ever spoke poorly of his parents, but he didn’t necessarily praise them either. Actually… he never spoke of them.

*** *** ***

For the rest of the class, you wondered just what you were getting yourself into by going and meeting them. Maybe you two were moving too fast or..

“Sweetheart.” His steady voice broke your trance. He’s crouched down next to your desk to be eye-level with you, and the palms of his hand is gently caressing your cheek. “There you are. Spaced out on me.”

The entire classroom is empty. Class must’ve ended a minute ago because not even the professor is in the room now. You must’ve been deep in your own head.

You let force out an awkward laugh before nuzzling your cheek further into his palm, seeking out his affections as comfort from the insecure thoughts that somehow always manage to find a way in.

“I was just.. thinkin’ about your parents is all..” You finally give him some sort of explanation, and Nanami softens a bit.

“It’s just a weekend, my love. Then, I’ll make it up to you.” His words are a promise. You know for a fact Nanami doesn’t say things that he doesn’t mean.

“I think that was the part where you were supposed to reassure me that they’ll like me-“

Nanami pulls you forward and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll still love you regardless.”

Gods, his words are so sweet, but they cut deep like daggers.

“They’re… not going to like me..?” You mumble in a tone that makes Nanami’s heart sink. He takes your hands into his as he gets on his knee to better talk to you while you’re seated.

“My parents are… very traditional.” He carefully explains, and his hazel eyes search yours for a reaction before he reluctantly continues. “They want me to marry a girl from a specific family-“

“An arranged marriage!?” You blurt out — unable to control your emotions as it feels like your heart is trying to force its way up your throat.

“Something like that - but not exactly. It’s not arranged, but it’s definitely heavily pushed.” He tries to keep his tone steady, but seeing you so upset like this has him feeling raw with emotion as well.

“So, no, they will not be happy to know that I’m going against their wishes, but they’ll come around eventually.” His eyes focus on yours, and he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“… and if they don’t?” A small sniffle escapes you before you can stop it. The thought of Nanami being with anyone else has your head spinning. There’s another girl out there who might be expecting for him to take her hand in marriage.

“Hey... look at me.” He coaxes softly as his hand guides your face to look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I’m doing this as a courtesy for them — not because I need their approval.”

Chills shoot up your spine from his words. Nanami rarely cusses, but when he does, it’s enough to even make Satoru blush when he hears it.

Your worry instantly flees your body when Nanami’s lips press against yours to seal the deal. This was just a visit to his parents. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“I’m still gonna love you…” He mumbles his words against your lips before seeking out more of your honeyed kisses. “…still gonna marry you one day…” His deep voice groans a little as he gently suckles on your bottom lip. “…still gonna fuck you senseless every night.”

“Ken..” A breathy whine; a whimper; a plea.

“Because you need it every night, don’t you?” His lips are still chasing yours with an insatiable hunger. It just wasn’t enough. If the next class wasn’t coming in the next 10 minutes, he’d take you right here on your desk, but he doesn’t fancy the idea of anyone else’s eyes accidentally falling upon your ethereal body.

“Mhm… need it.” You murmur against his lips quietly in agreement.

Nanami suddenly pulls away, and he reaches out, wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Come on before I fuck you right here.” He threatens and picks your bag up off the floor for you.

*** *** ***

A gasp flees you as Nanami pushes your back against his bed. His lips are immediately assaulting your neck: suckling soft red marks into your skin and nipping at you gently.

He loves to see the aftermath of his love on you, but he has to be careful this time. Can’t have you going to meet his parents with hickeys all over your neck, can you?

“Mmm~ What about Haibara?” You ask now before you find yourself too hypnotized by his affections.

“He has a class right now.” Nanami answers before his hand trails up your thighs towards your already damp panties. He has had this on his mind all day since he saw you in that cute little skirt you’re wearing.

“Already so wet.” He groans into your neck before biting at your shoulder. The pads of his fingers tease your sensitive clit through the cloth of your cotton panties. “Fuck. You’re so good to me.”

Nanami drops to his knees on the edge of the bed, and his strong arms pull you by your legs to where you’re situated at the edge for him to eat you out to his heart’s desire.

He doesn’t even remove your panties before he leans in and presses a sloppy kiss to your cunt. He can already taste you through the fabric, and he needs more.

His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, carefully placing them on his bedside table. If he can swing it, he’ll definitely hide them from you and claim that you lose them — just so he can keep them for when you’re not around.

He’s not a pervert!! Well… he loves jerking off into his girlfriend’s panties when he’s too needy at night… Feeling the wet fabric that was pressed so unceremoniously against your heavenly cunt is more than enough to get him off quickly. It would be ungentlemanly to wake you up at your dorm for such a scandalous adventure. At least he washes and returns them to you promptly after using them a couple of times.

As soon as your panties are safely discarded, Nanami has his face right back between your legs. He uses his hands to prop your legs up on his shoulder, and he just.. absolutely begins to devour you.

“Ngh.. oh fuck— wait Ken.. I wan..” You can barely get your words out right while his tongue is lapping at your slippery folds.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to interrupt someone during a meal?” His hazel eyes look up at you with such a serious look — you feel like you’re being scolded.

Your face flushes a bright red before you relax back into his bed — accepting your fate. Kento smiles to himself, knowing that it doesn’t take much to pacify you. You’re too much of a good girl for him.

“Mmm~ that’s right. Just lay back and take what I give you, pretty girl.” He hums in satisfaction as his tongue connects with your cunt once more.

He licks up all the sticky wetness that you so graciously leak for him. He’s so messy with it, practically french kissing with your cunt. Your juices are smeared across his chin from him hopelessly lapping at you. His tongue writes love letters to you against your clit, making your body shiver with pleasure and excitement.

One of your hands is clasping at the sheets, and the other hand is entangled in Kento’s blonde hair, giving him small tugs as he gives you the best head of your life.

Your thighs unconsciously press together, trying to run from the weird sensations that his mouth gives to you. Your boyfriend grunts in dissatisfaction — not enjoying the sudden disobedience from you.

His hand press against each of your knees, and he forces your legs back open — spreading you wiiiide open for him.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He asks while looking up at you through his lashes.

“Please — please~” You whine. Your hips involuntarily buck up, trying to get any sort of friction.

“Then be good, and sit still.” Nanami orders, and his hand ever so carefully swats at your sensitive cunt — sending shockwaves of electrifying pleasure through your nerve endings.

“‘m sorry.. ‘m sorry.. please.” You’re so whiny and desperate to be stretching by him. It’s honestly so pathetic that he pities you.

“My poor sweet girl.” He chuckles lowly before pressing a more gentle kiss against your clit. His tongue carefully dips into your wet heat. “Tastes too sweet for your own good. How am I supposed to stop enjoying you, huh?”

A glob of spit rolls down your cunt from Nanami’s mouth, and he uses his own two fingers to spread it around, softly toying with your glistening pussy. A smirk curls on his lips as he watches the way your entrance flutters — so enticed by the potential of being filled by him.

You quietly stifle a squeal as he stuffs you with two of his thick fingers. “So reactive, baby.” He murmurs as his tongue darts back out to gently lap and flick at your clit.

“Ken.. fuck, fuck-! Mmmph..” Your hips start to roll against his fingers, trying to force them inside you. Your boyfriend obliges your silent request, and he pushes his fingers in deeper, curling upwards to that spot he knows will make you cry out his name…

“Nanami-!” There it is. His fingers begin to roughly pump in and out, abusing your sensitive g-spot over and over again.

“Better be a good girl and tell me you love me.” He mutters lowly into your cunt. He knows he doesn’t have to tell you anymore — you’re already conditioned to tell him you love him when you cum. Even if he’s not the one making you finish, you’ll text him a quick “I love you” as you clench around your own fingers to the thought of him.

Your hips roll harder, and your moans are way more throaty — interrupted by small gasps for air. He can tell that you’re getting close. His mouth gently begins to suckle on the small bundle of nerves, and he focuses his tongue on swirling circles around your clit.

It’s all so much. It feels like Nanami is literally playing you like an instrument. He knows exactly what to do to make you a whiny trembling mess.

His fat fingers are pummeling into you, slamming into your sweet spot — making overstimulated tears well up in your eyes. “Sh-shit.. gonna cum.. Nanami… ah~ more..” You’re babbling utter nonsense while trying to find your orgasm.

Your stomach starts to clench, and it almost feels uncomfortable. Your breath stutters as Nanami murmurs into your pussy. “Let go for me, darling. Let it alllll out.” He encourages you as if his fingers and tongue aren’t absolutely tag teaming you.

“Ah~ Mmph… I.. fuck- I love you-!” You moan as you finally feel your orgasm suddenly break. Your tight walls clench around Nanami’s fingers, and fluids from your arousal gush out, making a big mess on his face and clothes.

Nanami quietly chuckles as he comes to realization that you just squirted on him. “Oh? That’s how you feel, huh?” He mocks playfully before pressing one last french kiss against your cunt. “I love you more darling.”

For a moment, you don’t know if it’s more directed towards you or your pussy.

*** *** ***

The early morning train ride was spent with your head cozied into Nanami’s shoulder as he had a protective arm around you. The scenery outside was beautiful. Hakone is known for their breathtaking sights of Mount Fiji. Too bad your eyelids were so heavy from getting up so early.

Nanami takes the silence as a time to reflect. He truly can’t remember a time when he was nervous like this. It was as if that emotion left him when he was a teenage boy. His family’s harsh regime for raising him left no room for shy or nervous behavior. Men were strong, confident, sophisticated. They exuded chivalry in everything they do.

Honestly, he’s glad that he was raised the way he was. Every time he bears witness to Gojo’s crude behavior, he can only think of how happy he is to have had a strict childhood.

But right now, he wishes he wasn’t so nervous. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he’s silently praying that you can’t hear it. Even though he didn’t care what his parents thought of you, he didn’t fancy the idea of seeing you torn down by his parents. Hopefully, they’ll have enough class to take up the issues with him — not you.

*** *** ***

Nanami’s parent’s house had a very traditional vibe to it, and it was easily twice as big as the house you grew up in. It was beautifully decorated, and the lawn was obviously meticulously cared for. It makes sense that Nanami grew up here.

“Just one weekend. Then, we’ll be back to normal.” Nanami murmurs softly into your ear. Though, he doesn’t know if he’s reassuring you or himself at this point. He takes a deep breath before knocking on the door with a heavy fist.

“Oh, Kennn.” His mother immediately ran up to Nanami and gave him a big hug after answering the door, which he returned back to her.

“It’s good to see you, mom.” He responds heartily before he holds out his hand to his dad.

“Look at you. Our son has grown up on us.” His dad gives a sweet smile while gently nudging his mom with his elbow.

“Don’t remind me!” His mom practically wails with her arms still wrapped around Nanami, and you’re awkwardly on standby.

Nanami finally puts his hands on his mom’s shoulders, and he forces her to take a step back. “It hasn’t even been that long since you two saw me, and besides, I brought someone for you two to meet.”

His arm carefully wraps back around your waist, and he looks at his parents before collecting himself briefly. “This is my girlfriend, Yn. Yn, these are my parents.”

His mom’s smile falters almost unnoticeably, but you immediately pick up on her dissatisfaction. His dad seems to just he surprised.

“Ah, yes, welcome to our home, yn.” His dad finally says with an earnest smile, and he subtly nudges his wife. It’s definitely a silent reminder for her to stop looking at you like you’re an intruder.

“Your home is lovely, Mr. and Mrs. Nanami. It’s nice to meet you two.” You try your best to not sound nervous at all, but his mom’s face just makes your stomach turn.

His parents guide you through their home, but they mostly focus their attention on Nanami: asking him about his studies, asking how Gojo’s doing, and asking if he’s contacted some girl named… Allegra. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was the girl who they wanted him to marry instead.

They didn’t ask you very many questions. His dad was friendly, but it seemed like he was tip toeing around all the awkward tension. His mom was just flat out ignoring your presence — clearly in denial about her son having a girlfriend who wasn’t this mysterious Allegra girl.

When it came time for dinner, his dad finally broke the awkward tension and asked about you.

“So yn, you go to the same college as Kento?” His dad seems to be genuinely sweet — just more on the passive shy side.

“Yeah, Ken and I actually share quite a few classes together.” You smile as your utensil grazes along the food they prepared. It smells delicious, but your nerves will barely allow you to nibble on it.

“What are you studying?”

“Oh, I’m in general studies for now. I’m still deciding on what to major in.” You reply as you finally feel yourself beginning to relax in your chair.

“Did you tell your friend that Allegra is studying to become a doctor? Wouldn’t that be nice to have in the family?” His mom finally speaks up, only addressing Nanami and not you.

Your stomach sinks as you realize why Nanami was so apologetic and reassuring this entire time. He knew his mom was just going to take subtle digs at you the entire time.

“One, she’s my girlfriend — not friend. Two, no, I have no reason to speak about Allegra with my girlfriend.” Nanami responds, and he gives his mom a subtle look. It appears they have a brief challenging moment before his mom looks away and relents.

Nanami’s foot gently nudges yours underneath the table, and you try to give him a small smile in response. It’s just hard when clearly you’re not wanted in this household.

The dinner goes silent for a moment, and the dining area fills with the sounds of chopsticks gently touching against plates. You subtly check your phone for an escape.

Nanami: Don’t pay her any mind, okay?

Nanami: I promise I’ll make up for this tonight. I’ll kiss you for every rude thing she says.

Yn: and for every time she says Allegra?

Nanami: I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember her name… make you so dumb until you can only remember my name. That’s all you need to know anyways.

Yeah, that’ll do it. The negative emotions are gone — replaced by a feral need for his cock. You take a subtle breath before putting your phone away, not wanting anyone to accidentally see him dirty talking you right in front of his parents.

“Ah, do you think you can help me out with the car tomorrow, Kento? Your old man is getting too old and worn out to crawl underneath there.” His dad finally breaks the silence once more.

“Of course, dad. What are you needing done on it? I’ll probably wake up early and get it done before day breaks.” Your boyfriend is such a good son. It’s no wonder that his mom is stupid protective over him.

“I just need to breaks changed on it. It’s probably due for an oil change too.” His dad explains, and Nanami assures him that he’ll get it done.

“I didn’t know you knew much about cars.” You take the chance of speaking up, and Nanami’s hazel eyes meet yours. His face instantly softens, and his mouth opens to speak. Too bad his mom beats him too it.

“Of course, he does. He needs to know all sorts of things like that in case his future wife needs her car repaired.” His mom says with a hint of hostility in her tone. “Speaking of which, Allegra just bought a new car a few months ago.”

You sit in silence for a moment, and you feel your stomach twisting in discomfort. You don’t know why you care so much for this woman’s opinion of you. Nanami already warned you that they likely wouldn’t approve of you, but you didn’t know you signed up to practically be bullied all weekend.

“I know a few basic things about cars. Nothing major.” Nanami responds to you — ignoring his mother’s comments. “I can show you too if you’re interested.”

A small smile curls on your lips, and you swallow back your emotions— trying to stay strong for him. “That’d be nice.”

“You definitely have a….”

“Mom.” Nanami immediately warns, staring down his mother before she can even finish her sentence.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything mean.” She’s immediately on the defensive, casually laughing as if she’s been nothing but friendly this entire time. “I was just going to say that your friend certainly has a bold personality… wearing red to meet someone’s parents is definitely… a choice.”

Your eyes look down at the nice blouse you’re wearing, and you swallow harshly. Nanami was actually the one to pick it out for you. He reassured you this morning that you looked gorgeous — unknowingly signing you up to be bullied.

Your face is burning hot with embarrassment, and you wish you could just fold in on yourself and die right on the spot.

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” Nanami frowns, and he puts his chopsticks down on his plate. “I’m serious. Being a bully at your age is unbecoming to you as a mother.”

“Kento.” His dad warns, but Nanami doesn’t relent for a second.

“No. I’m not going to sit here and allow her to continue disrespecting my girlfriend like that.” Your boyfriend retorts, and he switches back to glaring at his mother. “I’m not dating Allegra — nor do I want to. I’m doing you a favor by introducing you to yn. I figured you’d like to know your future daughter in law.” He gestures to you,

The color leaves his mom’s face as she stares back at her son — as if him implying that he is going to marry you is the worst news she’s ever heard. Her eyes cut over towards you in a vicious glare. “How long have you even known my son?”

Your heart is beating straight through your chest. Confrontation isn’t your strong suit, and to be honest, his mother was terrifying even though she’s literally shorter than you are.

“W-well, we met in college so…” You inwardly curse for stumbling over your words, and Nanami frowns as he looks at you. He hates that his parents are making you so unsure of yourself and your role in his life. He wants to take all your insecurities away and make you forget this ever even happened.

“It’s not even been that long! You don’t even have history with this girl. Allegra was your first kiss.. your first everything!” His mother raises her voice at Nanami, making exasperating hand motions.

His first everything? He told you that you were his first.

Tears prick into your eyes before you can even think to stop him. Overwhelmed by shame and just utter defeat, you don’t even know what to do other than to hide and cry.

Nanami’s eyes widen as he sees you clearly trying to cover up the tears streaming down your cheeks. His jaw tightens as he returns his gaze to his mother.

“That’s funny. I don’t recall you ever being present for any of those things.” His mom starts to speak up, but he is quick to shut her back down. “I kissed Allegra because you were breathing down my neck to. I was barely 15 at that time, and it happened once. That was the first and only time I ever even touched her.”

His mom starts to try to speak up again to probably bring up some other point about why he should be with Allegra. Nanami interrupts her again.

“Allegra and I do not like each other. We hardly tolerated each other for yours and her parents’ sake. You have to get over it. I’m with yn, and I’m happy — happier than I’ve ever been. She was my first everything. My first real kiss, my first girlfriend, and since you seem to want to stick your nose so far in my business, she was my first in bed too.”

“Kento, you’re being incredibly disrespectful.” Her voice is much more strict now as she scolds her grown son.

“I wonder where I get it from. It seems as though we both have a propensity for being rude.” He retorts, and while he’s arguing, his hand slides over to your inner thigh under the table, and he gropes it harshly.

He’s so pissed. He doesn’t even know how to get rid of this anger. His hand squeezes your thigh tightly, making your face go bright red as you look away from everyone.

“I’m not accepting her into this family. You can forget that. She’s changed you.” His mother’s words are growing harsher, and his dad is trying to quietly calm her. She doesn’t pay him any mind though.

“Fine. We’ll just go make our own family.” Nanami scoots his chair back, and he stands up. His hand roughly pulls you up as well — not giving you a chance to even think about what he just said. He bends down and effortlessly throw you over his shoulder, making you gape in surprise. His arm securing you by wrapping around the back of your thighs. “And by the way, I chose the red blouse. It matches the cute bra she’s wearing that I also chose for her.”

His parents stare at him — both completely dumbfounded by what just happened. They didn’t raise him to be like that, but what were they going to do?? Stop him? That’s a laughable thought. You’re not even sure God himself could pull Ken off of you when he’s feral like this.

His footsteps are heavy as he stomps up the stairs towards his teenage bedroom. Nothing has changed since he was last in here. It’s still completely sterile from how he was made to clean it each day. The walls are littered with posters of various science related things, and he has some posters of older video games he use to enjoy.

Your body is practically flung onto the bed, and Nanami doesn’t waste a single second. His heart is pounding in his chest. His mind is fogged with pure anger. He hasn’t felt like this in so long. It reminds him of why he took up going to the gym.

With no punching bag in sight, you’re his only outlet.

His body is unwavering on top of yours — a force to be reckoned with, and his mouth immediately connects with yours in a suffocating kiss. Quiet hums and moans fill the air between you two, and he quite literally steals the breath from your lungs. His fingers wrap around your wrists easily, pinning them above your head on the bed.

No longer satiated from robbing you of your breath, Nanami trails his kisses down to your neck. To hell with not marking you — he needs to see his brand on your neck. You’re his, aren’t you? Who cares if his parents see?

“Ah~” You let out a breathy whimper as he angrily sucks and bites on your neck. Your skin is sensitive - already turning bright shades of blue and purple from his mouth. His dental imprint litters your neck and shoulders.

“K-Ken.. what about..?” You start to ask about his parents. They’re going to hear you two. Wouldn’t that just make things worse?

“Don’t care.” He responds so brashly. If he thinks about his parent’s behavior any longer, he’s going to need to fuck you into next week to get all his anger out.

Riiiip!

Your eyes widen as you look up at your boyfriend’s hulking figure. The blouse that you were just criticized for was now more like a coat, split down the middle, revealing your perfect breasts, so prettily on display in your red lacy bra.

His mouth waters as he looks you up and down. You have almost this panicked look in your eye, provoked by his unpredictability, and for whatever reason, it’s driving him insane.

His mouth is back on you like it never left: kissing and biting on your mounds, painting them so beautifully with his mark. “You’re mine.” He grunts lowly. His jealousy almost makes it sound like his parents were insinuating that you should marry someone else.

“Say it.” He demands before his teeth graze over your collarbone. His warm breath fans over your skin, making you shiver.

“Yours.” You comply with such a small whimper, and your body jolts when you feel his raging bulge rub against you.

“See what you do to me?” He rumbles lowly as he looks down to where he’s now shamelessly dry humping you through clothes like he’s a horny teenager.

“Fuck… Ken..” You whisper as you’re also mesmerized by the sight. His slacks are completely taught, outlining the shape of his cock so well. You can almost see the veins that protrude on him.

His hips rolls slowly against yours, savoring the way the fabric rubs against him and you. His dick is painfully throbbing — begging for the reprieve of being squeezed by your gummy walls.

“Are you as much of a mess as I am, baby?” He asks as his hand dips into your pants. His eyebrows furrow, and he lets out a low groan as his fingers are instantly coated in your slick. He slips his hand back out of your pants just to slide his fingers into his mouth. He holds eye contact with you as he hums in satisfaction. He'll never get enough of your taste.

“You want this, don’t you? Want me to fuck you where my parents can hear you?” He slides his hand back down into your pants, and his fingers rub tight, firm circles against your clit, making your body squirm from pleasure.

“Nngh~ ah!” You’re already so noisy, and he hasn’t even began fucking you yet.

“Give ‘em a show, baby. Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

“Mmm~ Ken…” You moan as your back arches up off the bed. His fingers press down harder on your swollen clit.

“You can do better than that, darling.” He can be so condescending in bed, using that insatiable need for praise against you.

“Ken!” You shout, all logical thought has abandoned you. He tells you to do better? You do better.

“Good girl.” He purrs before sliding his hand out of your pants. He can’t get your clothes off of you quick enough. His cock is beckoning for attention, still neglected from yesterday of just eating you out.

Your hands shakily try to unbutton his shirt, and he chuckles lowly at your pitiful efforts. “Aw, my poor girl. Already so shaken up. Go on. You can do it.”

You huff at his taunting. Usually, he’d just see you struggling and take off his clothes for you, but today he was thriving off watching you so desperately trying to get his clothes off him.

It takes you a minute to get his clothes off him, and you don’t even properly take off his pants. You merely shoved them down along with his boxers just low enough for his monstrous cock to spring out. Nanami merely watches you with a cocky smirk.

“Yeah? This is what you wanted?” He purrs lowly, and he carefully drags his tip up and down your core, smearing his precum along your lips as if his tip was giving you a sloppy kiss.

“Gonna take all of it, aren’t you?” His other hand releases your wrists, and he lovingly cups your cheek. His hand is so big compared to your face. He loves watching you nuzzle up into his palm.

You nod your head quickly in response, lifting your hips up to meet his with each slow movement. Wet slippery noises from your cunt weeping for him fill the room.

“Use your words.” He demands before he speaks up louder — just to spite his parents who are right below you two. “I said. You’re going to take this dick like a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You whine before your body is completely shell shocked from a quick slap to your cunt. His cock is so heavy — you can feel the weight of it as his rudely smacks it against you again.

“Louder.”

“Yes sir-!” You immediately oblige, following his commands without a second thought in your brain.

His lips curl into a lopsided grin, and he carefully guides his sweltering tip towards your entrance, plugging your hole with just his head.

“Keep being a good girl like that, and I might have to give you baby. Do you want that?” He asks while carefully stretching you by fucking his tip in and out of your tight hole. “You wanna have my baby, don’t you?”

“Ffffuck- Ken! T-too much..” You squirm your body against his bedsheets, and he chuckles at your poor attempt at getting away.

“You clearly want this, so why are you running?” He hands latch onto your thighs, and he pulls you back down towards him, inadvertently impaling you even further on his cock.

A smug chuckles bubbles up in his throat as he sees how much of a mindless mess you are. He loves how he can make you all dumb so quickly with his dick. It brings him great joy to know that you trust him and can just let go, letting the more primal urges take over.

“Mmm~ so tight and wet for me, aren’t you darling? Need to just let Ken take care of you, yeah?” His voice is like velvet as he slowly thrusts himself in and out, sinking deeper into you with each movement, splitting you wide open.

“Ah~! nnnnn… so good.” You manage to whine out.

“What a crybaby. I know you can take me better than that, darling.” Nanami gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before his large hand wraps around your neck, applying pressure in just the right spots to make you all lightheaded.

"Come on. Show me how good you can take it~" His hips snap forward suddenly, sinking his full length deep inside you. Your eyes roll back into your head as he takes full control over you.

His hips are pounding forward, bumping his tip right against your cervix with every mean thrust. His balls are heavy and slapping against the flesh of your ass — a reminder for how pent up he's been recently.

Maybe it's the lack of an orgasm for the last couple of days or maybe it's his parents being utter assholes to you, but Kento finds himself feeling frustrated all over again. Low grunts and growls escape him, and he uses his grip on your neck to push himself in even further -- harder.

The sound of skin clapping against skin fills the room, and his childhood beds starts to squeak out with each forceful blow. He knows for a fact that his parents can hear every single noise. The thin walls of this house absolutely hide nothing. He may as well have fucked you right there against the kitchen table to really prove a point.

"Fuck-! Kenkenkenken! Ah~" You can't even form sentences much less words other than his name. Before you can even warn him, your walls begin to pulse around him - practically milking him while your orgasm takes you over. "Nnngh~ I-I love you.."

"Mmnn~ I didn't tell you that you could do that, sweetheart." He hazel eyes bore into your very soul as his grin shifts to a more wild one. His hips move with even more vigor as if he's trying to push himself straight into your womb,

His hand lets go of your throat, finally allowing you to get a deep breath of air while trying to cope with his massive size pumping in and out of you as if you're nothing but a senseless fuck toy, but you clearly fucking love it. You're practically dripping all over him, soaking his bedsheets in your arousal.

At this point, his parents aren't sure if he's killing you or fucking you. Either way, they're too afraid to intervene. They didn't raise a gentleman at all. They raised a monster.

"Mmph... Need to give you a baby. Can I? You'd make such a pretty mama. School be damned. I need you." Normally, Nanami is pretty controlled over his pillow talk. He's really good at it, but right now, he's completely lost in you -- just babbling promises of giving you a baby and marrying you.

"Y-yes, Ken! Fuck... give me a baby, please." Your legs are trembling around his waist, and your fingernails are giving him such pretty decorations along his back. Small trophies for fucking you just right.

"Fuuuck- Take it. T... take it all..." His voice is a gravely groan as his cock twitches inside you, spilling all of his seed directly into your tummy. It's so fucking much from holding back for a couple of days - completely filling you up. "I love you so much. Gonna marry you one day."

The house is eerily silent for a moment as both you and Nanami catch your breaths. He stays planted on top of you, keeping your legs hooked around his waist. Small creaks of footsteps against a floorboard fill the air, and you tense up, thinking his parents were going to come in there and raise all sorts of problems.

Nanami gently strokes your face with the back of his hand. "Shhh, they're not coming in here. Promise." He whispers lowly, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. You slowly relax in his arms, trusting his words that his parents weren't going to come in there.

You can hear a door open and shut, and it sounds like bickering back and forth between his parents.

"See? They're just going to bed." He presses another reassuring kiss to your cheek.

His hips continue to lazily pump in and out of you, basically fucking his cum back into you as it seeps out. His cock is hyper sensitive, but he can't get enough. You're completely drenched for him. You deserve more of his loving.

"Keennn~" You whine quietly, shifting in the bed slightly as your legs are all achy and sore from him taking out all of his anger on you.

"What is it, baby?" He asks in a hushed whisper against your ear. His breath tickles your skin, making you slightly squirm in response. "I'm just making sure it takes, yeah?" His cock sinks further into you, already growing hard all over again even though he just finished.

"Mmmph~" You hum as your eyes slipped closed. Nanami smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, knowing that you're already needy all over again for him.

"Answer me, darling. Want me to stop?" He asks while peppering kisses all over your face. If the last round was about degradation and taking his anger out, then this one was about how much he loves you and can't get enough of you.

"Nonono... don't stop, please." You murmur out quickly, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.

"That's my good girl... Always needin' more, aren't you?" He hums lowly, and his cock pumps in and out so slowly, delicately smushing against your cervix with each loving thrust.

"Mmn.. I love you." You slur out, completely cock drunk at this point. Kento just smiles and continues to dote on your with messy kisses against your cheeks and neck. His hand is gently massaging your breast, just barely teasing your nipple while he makes love to you.

"And I love you, darling." He responds before he feels you squeezing around him already. "Oh pretty, again?" He asks as his eyes look down to your fluids gushing around his length. "Such a mess. How are we meant to sleep on these sheets now?"

"'m sorry... I c-couldn't help it. 'm so sorry." You whimper as your face dips into his shoulder, hiding you obvious embarrassment.

Kento's arms wrap around your waist, and he uses his hold on you to drag you up and down along his length — still moving at such a torturously slow pace, making you feel every inch as it enters you.

"Aw, that's alright, darling. I'll clean us up. Just take a little bit more for me, yeah?" He whispers into your ear while your pelvis is slotting against his. He's damn near holding you up into his arms. Lucky you for having such a strong boyfriend.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss. His tongue slips past your lips, claiming your mouth as his completely. A few seconds later, his cock is pumping you full again with his cum — still so much on the second round.

Without even missing a beat, Nanami's mumbling breathily in your ear. "Mmm, I know I said I'd clean us up, but you wouldn't hate a third round, would you?"

*** *** ***

Nanami didn't wake you up the next morning to watch him work on the car. He knew your poor little body was put through the ringer yesterday, so he gave you a tender kiss on the temple before making his way into the garage in just his sleeping pants and socks.

His father's car was already propped up on the jack, and his father groaned as he leaned up off the ground. "Well good morning." He says in a knowing tone.

"Good morning. Why are you down there? I told you I'd fix it today." Nanami asks as he shoos his dad out of his way, and he slides himself underneath the car.

"Well, I didn't know if you'd be up for it after your fun ventures last night." His dad hands Nanami a tool to help get the brake pads off the car.

Nanami stays silent. In his new found clarity, he does know that fucking you so loudly to where his parents can hear was a weird retaliation method, but he doesn't regret doing it.

"Your mother cried all night last night."

"Maybe she needs a reality check if she's that damn upset about who I choose to romantically involve myself with." Nanami rolls his eyes, and he grunts as he forces the brake pad away from the car.

"I don't think she was crying because of that. I think she realizes just how far she drove you away from her with her constant pressure over your love life." His dad explains, and he hands Nanami the new brake pad to replace on the car. "I'm not saying you or yn have to forgive her for how she acted today, but I am asking that you try to give her another chance today. I think she understands now."

Nanami takes a deep breath, but he nods quietly. "She's got one more time to say anything rude to my girlfriend, and we're taking the first train back to the university."

*** *** ***

Your eyes darted over to Nanami's nervously when his mother asked you to have a girl's day with her, but your boyfriend gently rubbed your back, silently assuring you that it'd be okay. At least, he hoped it'd be okay.

Nanami: Text me if she says anything rude. I'll pack our stuff up and we'll leave, okay?

Luckily, you didn't have to text him at all that day. His mom took you sight seeing around the town, out to eat at one of Hakone's favorite restaurants, and you two got your nails done.

"You know, I was being a bad person yesterday." She starts off as you two are sat next to each other. Her feet are being massaged by one of the workers, and you're getting your toes painted. "I guess I just had this idea of how I wanted Kento's life to go, and when things started not going to plan, I started trying to grasp onto anything that'd give me control."

You glance over at his mother, and she has a small nostalgic smile upon her face. "I can't believe I allowed myself to act that way towards you... especially after my parents did the same thing to Kento's dad."

"Your parents didn't accept Kento either?" You curiously ask, wondering how similar your stories were.

"No, but they didn't try to arrange me into a marriage either. They just didn't think Kento's dad was manly enough for me. They didn't like seeing me wear the pants in the relationship, but that's just what works for us... I use to beg for them to just let us be happy, but they never stopped criticizing him. I finally just.. stopping talking to them when I fell pregnant with Kento." She explains in a voice raw with emotion. You can clearly see how this still impacts her to this day.

"I don't want Ken to do the same to me... I want to be in his and your life and my future grandchild's life if that's what you two choose to do. I raised him well, and I know he has a good judgement of character. So, I know you must be a good person. If he's happy, then that's all that matters to me." She goes on, giving you a small apologetic smile. "I'm really sorry for how I acted towards you last night. It will never happen again."

*** *** ***

Nanami had spent the whole day checking his phone religiously while his dad kept him employed with random home renovation tasks. He was waiting for the moment to start packing up your stuff and telling his mom that he wasn't going to speak to them again.

When he heard sounds of wailing coming from the front door, he immediately hopped off the ladder that his dad was holding for him.

"Kento-!" His dad shouts as he wobbles around, but Nanami was already speed walking towards the front door to see what was happening.

To his surprise, there was no wailing. It was only hysterical laughter coming from you and his mom. He stood in the door way with a confused look on his face as he observed you two.

"Yes, he was such a cutie pie.." His mom laughs as she shows you another picture of Kento in high school.

"Aww, Ken... you didn't tell me you were emo." You greeted your boyfriend with a fit of giggles from seeing his high school photos. His fringe proudly in view.

Nanami rakes his hands through his shorter hair now, and he lets out a relieved laugh. Seeing you interact so happily with his mom was enough to make him feel full with love. His heart feels at ease now... until he remembers that he has to meet your parents at some point.

tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby

[reignpage]

Dog-Eat-Dog World

Synopsis: what life is like with Siberian husky hybrid!Gojo Warnings: 18+ mdni, porn with a little plot, fluffy, cursing, dubcon, established relationship, cunnilingus, blowjob, 69, boobjob, rimming, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, switch!Gojo, backshots, spitting, mention of somnophilia, possessiveness, creampie, knotting, not proofread Word Count: 4.9k

Dating Husky!Gojo means there are rarely ever any quiet moments. He talks a lot. In fact, he never seems to stop. He could talk your ear off about anything. And he certainly does try. 

“Y’know, squirrels can be categorised into three types. There are ground squirrels, tree squirrels and flying squirrels. Have you ever seen a flying squirrel? I saw one once and it was so ugly. It had these weird flaps and they look like little rats with wings. Tree squirrels are pretty common. You see them all the time, right? Yeah, there’s no way you’ve never seen a tree squirrel; they’re everywhere.”

Sighing, you ruffle his hair as he lies on your lap, staring up at you with those big blue eyes. Eyes fluttering close, he makes a low growl of appreciation, tilting his head so you can get to that spot by his erect ear that makes his leg twitch. 

“Hmm, I love when you scratch me there. You do it really well, y’know? Like, really really well. No one scratches better than you. I’ve tried myself but it’s never the same.” He barks a sudden laugh. “It kinda sounds like I’m talking about something else, doesn’t it?”

Something on the TV catches his attention and he tenses up, head tilting and ears flickering to focus all his energy on the curiosity on screen. But then your nails scrape his scalp, and his eyes are rolling back. He falls down onto your lap and gives you a lopsided grin. 

“Sorry. What was I saying? Oh, right. You scratch so good. You could scratch me all day and I wouldn’t ever ask you to stop. If you scratched me for the rest of my life, I would never get bored. Do you want to test that out?”

With a soft smile, you reply, “I don’t think that’s possible, Toru. I have to work, and I can’t take you with me, can I?”

He grumbles, “No, I guess you can’t. But I’m rich. Or rather, my family is, so you don’t have to work anymore, you can just stay with me all day, every day, forever! I get it though, so you don’t need to give me the lecture about independence and the important of keeping busy. I just want to be with you all the time! I hate being alone and waiting for you to come home. You take forever. It’s like a whole eternity passes.”

Husky!Gojo loves being on your lap for reasons other than being able to rest as you give him head scratches. No, he likes how close he is to the source of the best smell he’s ever smelt in his entire life. He loves it so much, sometimes he focuses more on the apex of your thighs than whatever’s playing on the TV. 

He shifts his head so he can press his nose right there, burying deeper until he can take long inhales and let your scent engulf his very being. His ears are perked up and his tail is wagging excitedly. 

“Satoru, what are you doing?”

He whines at the strict tone of your voice, and with guilty eyes he peers up at you, wincing once he sees your raised brow. His ears lie flat, tail slowing to a halt, and he stretches his neck ever so slightly to bare more of that long length. 

“It’s not my fault,” he mutters. “You just smell so nice. Can’t I just sniff you for a little longer? I won’t go further, I swear!”

You roll your eyes. You know if you don’t give in now then he’ll badger you relentlessly until you eventually do. Plus, it’s not as if you were impervious to the pressure of his nose against your clit, through your shorts. 

And when you shift under his head, he knows he’s won. 

In a clumsy flurry, he’s flying off the sofa, kneeling between your legs and gripping onto the plush of your thighs to spread them. When he sees that wet spot he’s been manifesting, his ears perk up once more and you can hear the way his tail is swishing on the cold floor. 

“You always play hard to get and yet we always end up just like this,” he growls, amusement sparkling in his sky-blue eyes. Then, he dives in, using his paws to tear apart your shorts and panties in one swift move. His long, slobbery tongue lolls out and he’s licking from quivering hole to twitching clit. Your hips jolt. “Oh, you taste so good. I love you so much. God, I missed your pussy. It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve gotten to say hello.”

It’s embarrassing how wet you got and how quickly, but the way he’s lapping up your juices so eagerly makes you forget all about shame. There are very few things better than the way he lays his tongue flat against your clit, allowing you to hump it for a couple seconds before he gets impatient and rolls the little bud around, loving the way sweat is beading down your thighs, making it difficult to get gripping on your warm flesh. 

“Ngh! Toru!” You exclaim. There’s a delicious tingling emanating from your pussy as he laps your essence repeatedly, desperately, like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “Slow down!”

Husky!Gojo ignores you. Instead, he slides his wet, fat tongue all over your tasty pussy with restless abandon — there’s no rhyme or rhythm, it doesn’t even seem like he cares about your pleasure, he’s only seeking to taste every drop of what you’re willing to give him. 

“I love your pussy so much,” he moans against your slit, the vibrations making your back tense. “I want to stay between your legs forever. Can I? Can I? Please?”

When you don’t reply, too lost in the pleasure, he snorts and spreads your cunt with his fingers instead, needing to feel more of your sloppy pussy. It’s dripping, practically oozing with your juice and he thinks he’s in heaven. He licks and slurps and probes your tight opening with his long tongue, snaking it inside. 

“Wait! Satoru!” You thread your fingers through his fluffy hair, nails scraping against a sensitive spot, and he growls. 

“Hey! No fair! You’re trying to distract me!” His voice is muffled, and his canine accidentally nudges the underside of your clit. You clench down on his tongue, and he gets even more irritated. It’s so unfair how, even without trying, you’re making his cock throb so terribly in his pants. 

Seeking revenge, he rubs your clit, matching the tempo of your moans, rubbing it in furious circles with his thumb. You cum hard. “Oh, Toru! Fuck! Fuck! Soooo goooood!”

You’re creaming down on his tongue and the sweet taste is making him lose his mind. He slurps at your entrance even faster, licking wide and wet strokes all over, even at the creases of your thighs, spreading your juices and his saliva where he can reach, perhaps unknowingly or perhaps because he wants to make you remember how good he made you feel when your thighs stick together.

“That’s enough, Toru! I can’t take anymore!”

Husky!Gojo ignores you again. He’s still licking, alternating between flickering the tip of his tongue on your adorable clit and thrusting it inside your pussy, curling the appendage up at your walls. Your legs are shaking and he’s trying to keep you still, lest you ruin his favourite meal. 

“Oh! Oh! Satoru, fuuuuck!” 

You push away from him, nails digging into the armrest, but he’s still licking at your clamped thighs, skimming along your ass and you practically have to shove at his head. 

Minutes later, when your consciousness returns to you, you dare look at him, still kneeling, tail wagging and with a shameful layer of shiny juice dripping down his chin. He tilts his head tauntingly. A cocky grin on his face, he asks:

“Did I do good?”

Husky!Gojo is very energetic. He loves to go to the park and run wild. Of course, it’s not uncommon to see hybrids like him enjoy nature, but up North, where you’re stuck in a perpetual season of winter, it seems like he’s the only one who prefers to be outside than inside, where it’s warm and cozy. 

For the nth time in a row, you throw the neon yellow tennis ball as far as you can, watching your boyfriend chase after it with excited giggles. He’s a little clumsy, what with his long limbs and tall body, but he’s pretty quick. Following the ball, he snatches it in his hand before he runs back to you, pride glinting in his eyes. 

“Did you see how fast I got that? Wasn’t that faster than last time? Do you think I can go faster? I think I can go faster. No, I definitely can go faster. Watch. Make sure you’re watching, okay?”

You laugh at his serious pout before you throw the ball and watch him leap for it. Despite how cold it is, he never seems to bother with anything more than a hoodie and shorts. Whereas you’re wrapped up in a thick coat, scarf, beanie and gloves, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. You’re slightly jealous of his immunity to the weather but you aren’t of his energy. 

Simply observing his limitless enthusiasm makes you feel sleepy. But your boyfriend needs daily exercise otherwise he moans and groans until it becomes your problem. He needs to run around or else he’s clawing at the walls, pulling at your shirt and whining in your ears. Once, you told him to just go without you, and well let’s just say, you had to make him buy you five new pairs of shoes after his tantrum.

“That’s your boyfriend? He’s an energetic thing, isn’t he?” A man pipes up beside you. 

You hadn’t noticed his approach, but he looks harmless enough. You give him a polite smile. “Yeah, he’s fun.”

“You live around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” 

“Oh, well you know, I’m not very social.”

“My wife’s just like you. She doesn’t like the cold very much and we’ve been having discussions about going down South, for the kids. That’s them over there.” Just as he points out, there are children playing tag with your boyfriend, giggling with him as he playfully pretends, they’re too fast for him. “My only concern is, the South isn’t as accepting of hybrids as here. And I don’t want my kids to face any kind of trouble.”

Giving him a sympathetic smile, you can’t say much more. Whilst there are laws protecting hybrids and most people are generally very accepting, there are still close-minded individuals who make life difficult for anyone who’s different. You wonder when that will change. 

“Who are you?”

Satoru has returned, tennis ball being squeezed in his hand as he eyes the stranger. He sniffs the air, assessing whether he’s a threat or not. His ears are pricked forward and tense, as is the rest of his body. He’s ready to attack. 

“He’s just a neighbour.” You give the nice stranger an apology, appreciating the understanding nod he gives you, before you pull your boyfriend away. 

Husky!Gojo is quiet the walk back home. He doesn’t say a word even as you attempt conversation, doesn’t react when you pat him on the back, not even when you tell him you’ll let him do karaoke as loud as he wants; he can be very petulant when he wants to be. 

But once inside, the door clicking into place, he pounces on you. He buries his face into your neck and makes a disgusted sound at the back of his throat.

“You smell like him. I hate it.”

He doesn’t waste any time in tearing off your clothes, even as you’re lying on the cold, hard floor naked. You know better than to argue when he gets in these moods — he needs to feel safe again, and you’ll let him do whatever it takes to do so. 

Fishing his already hard cock out, you’re amazed to find him red and leaking; he must have been imagining all the ways he could re-mark his territory on the way back. 

“I hate sharing you with anyone else,” he mumbles, giving himself one, two, jerks before he’s inching forward to lay the hot and heavy thing between your tits. He likes the sight of his almost transparent cum already wetting your skin, the way your nipples are pebbled and you’re completely at his mercy. “You’ll take care of me, won’t you? You’re the best owner, right? You’re not going to abandon me like this?”

“Of course not, Toru. Take what you want, sweetheart. Make me yours.”

Satoru growls, baring his sparkling white teeth before he paws at your tits, pushing them together so his cock is squeezed perfectly between them. He moans at the softness, thumb flicking your nipple like he can’t help himself. 

He makes quick, shallow thrusts, and you kind of hate how he’s fully clothed — you can’t see the way his abs tense, whereas he can see every part of your body. Somehow, that makes you feel tingly down there. 

His salty scent fills the hot air between you, and when you look down your chest, the sight of his red, hot cock disappearing and appearing between your tits elicits a moan from you. The slit is constantly leaking searing cum which he uses to slide better. In a teasing mood, you stretch your tongue out and poke at it when he emerges.

“Ngh! More! Lick me more!” He orders.

Head thrown back, he’s squeezing your breasts harder together, pinching your nipples sporadically. You obey him just this once, puckering your lips so you can suckle at the head when it nears your face. The salty liquid is strong, and you don’t have to touch your pussy to know you’re leaking just as much as he is. 

“You’re mine. Say it! Baby, I need you to say it. Please? Oh, fuck! I don’t want to cum until you say it.”

Amused, you throw him a bone, suckling particularly hard, right before you say, “I’m yours always, forever, Satoru.”

He cums pretty quickly after that. Hot spurts of that almost clear cum paints your face in streaks, dripping down your cheeks onto the floor. It’s going to be a pain to clean but neither of you care. Satoru heaves above you, flicking your nipples as his way of saying ‘thank you’.

The sight of your face and chest covered in his cum quickly hardens his softening cock once more and he grins at you. “I can smell how wet you are, sweet cheeks. You’re making a puddle on the floor. Now, who’s the messy one? Guess, I’ll have to take one for the team and get started on cleaning, yeah?”

Husky!Gojo likes to sixth-nine. There’s something about giving and receiving pleasure simultaneously that has his tail wagging.

Spinning around, he dives his face into your pussy, bending your legs back so he can have full access to everything. He’s slurping again -- he really does love to make that noise. Annoyingly, he begins motorboating your pussy, flicking his head side to side in a rapid pace just because he can. 

You can’t let him have all the fun. 

So, when he dangles his cock over your lips, smearing his salty cum all over it, you don’t hesitate to suck him in, relaxing your throat so he can push in further whilst you fondle his balls. Already, there’s a hard knot forming at the base of his cock. You’ve grown very familiar with it. Circling your tongue around Satoru’s flared, tapered tip, you also run a teasing finger along the knot. 

He thrusts down your throat and sucks at your clit harder. You both moan together. His tail is tickling your forehead as he waggles it in the air with frantic shakes like he doesn’t even realise he has such a big tell, revealing how he’s feeling at every given moment.

Cupping his heavy balls, you massage the warm sacks, imagining all the cum he’s got stored for you. Satoru makes small, humping motions, abandoning your cunt as he chases his pleasure. It’s all too much for him. Your mouth is so steamy, so tightyou’re your scent is attacking his senses. And just as your finger wanders upwards, beyond his knot and his balls, and to that puckered hole, just skimming the edge, he cums in your mouth, spraying down your throat with his salty essence.

“No! T-that’s so unfair! Y-you can’t just do that without -ngh- giving me a heads up,” he complains through his orgasm.

Soon after, he makes you cum on his tongue. He lapped up your dripping pussy, digging deep to taste all of your cream, and thumbing at your clit the way that you like as he stretched out your pussy with his tongue. And when, he too ventured beyond, tongue sliding down your slit and to your puckered hole, your legs wrapped around his head. 

“Satoru!”

“Not so fun now, is it?” He tried to taunt, but he was distracted by the taste of you. “Why haven’t I done this sooner? Ugh, you’re always so mean, keeping things away from me. Hope you learn your lesson, you mean baby.”

He inched his way in ever so slightly, rubbing incessant circles around your clit, and growling at the splash of cum he felt all over his face as you fell victim to his need to even the scales. 

Lying in a heap of sweaty bodies, heavy limbs, and mixed juices, he holds you in his arms, face buried in your neck as he rumbles, satisfied that you smell like him and only him. 

“I hate that park now. Let’s never go there again.”

“Whatever you say, Toru.”

Husky!Gojo is a pain in the ass. He follows you around everywhere and he doesn’t understand boundaries. 

When you get up from the sofa to go to the kitchen, he’s right behind you. He doesn’t even need anything, not a cup of water or a snack. He’s pressed so closely to your back, he becomes your shadow.

Even when you leave the bed in the middle of the night to pee, you don’t need to look up to know he’s standing in the threshold, sleepy eyes squinting at the bright lights, and fuzzy tail swishing lazily behind him. 

“Hurry back,” he demands. “I’m sleepy.”

“Then go to sleep, Satoru. There’s no need to follow me.”

He pouts at that, ears lying flat. And then he’s whimpering. It’s high-pitched and annoying and he knows it. He does it on purpose, knowing that you can’t stand the noise, and it’ll make you rush to get back into bed after washing your hands. 

“Alright, alright. Don’t be a dick.”

Satoru always gets what he wants.

Then, once you’re settled, he’s throwing himself over you, pinning you to the bed and acting as if he can’t hear your muffled complaints. He does it mostly because he wants to keep you close, because he loves the feel of your softness lulling him to sleep. But he also does it to make sure you can’t escape again. 

“Night night!”

Husky!Gojo is a hungry little thing. He’s never satisfied with his own food. No, he scarfs his plate down and then eyes yours. On his face is an expression of complete innocence but you know better. 

“No, Satoru. This is my food.”

Tilting his head, he blinks at you, confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” you counter. 

He laughs. “You’re always so suspicious. I’m just watching you eat because I love everything about you. Can’t I do that? Is it not a free country anymore?”

Sighing, you stop arguing with him, but when a noise behind catches your attention, you make the mistake of looking back. You don’t hear him move but you know he has. So, when you hesitantly turn back around, you’re not surprised to find your plate empty and he’s sporting a lopsided grin, full of pride and amusement.

“I’m going to kill you,” you threaten. 

Satoru laughs again.

Husky!Gojo has very keen senses. He can hear when you’re coming back home before you even show up at the door. He can sniff out where your keys are, where you’ve left your phone, and somehow know when it’s going to rain. He can hear higher pitches than you, and he makes fun of you for it. 

“You can’t hear that? Seriously, it’s so loud. Are you messing with me? Baby, are you? Because there’s no way you can’t hear that. Should we go to the doctors? I’m worried for you.”

More often than not, he’s deathly serious, and he’s so concerned over your weak senses, as if one day they’ll be the death of you. But once in a while, when you catch him biting back a smirk at your furrowed brows and straining ears, you know he got you. 

“Ow! Ow! You’re so aggressive when you’re being teased. Yeah, okay, I admit, that was a lie. There’s no sound. But there could have been, and you wouldn’t have heard it with your tiny little human ears. Oh, you’re so cute!”

Husky!Gojo has a sixth sense for when you’re extra needy. He can tell when you’re ovulating and it’s embarrassing. He knows before you do. Every time. 

Just lounging casually on the sofa, a peaceful calm blankets over you, watching the snow fall from the sky outside. You’re scrolling on your phone, failing to notice, until it’s too late, his approach. His ears and nose are twitching and he’s eyeing your crotch like it’s a curious thing. He creeps up your legs, firm hands kneading your thighs in what seems like a simple massage before his face is burrowing itself in your pussy. 

“Satoru! What on Earth are you doing?”

He peers up at you like it’s obvious. Taking a deep whiff, he nods like there’s no doubt about it. “You’re ovulating.”

“So?”

Rolling his eyes, he explains, “So, you’re going to need my services to satisfy this hungry cunt.”

Spluttering about his silly logic, you’re powerless against his determined hands, pulling down your pyjama bottoms until you’re bare for him. And then he’s eating you out once more. 

He really loves to do that. He does it whenever he wants — when you’ve just gotten back from work, fresh from the shower, whilst you’re cooking, and even when you’re sleeping. Sometimes he does it not to make you cum but just to taste you, like it’s his favourite pastime.

Suffice to say, it’s no challenge for him to make you cum within minutes, leaving you a sticky mess beneath him. And when your pussy have been stretched enough on his fingers and his tongue, he finds no issue sliding inside whilst you’re barely conscious and having no energy to remind him to wear a condom. 

Husky!Gojo hates those things. 

Once Satoru feels your warm walls, his instincts take over. He drives his cock inside, spearing you. It’s stealing your breath, the stretch making your jaw drop and he licks your lips in an apology for the sudden pain. 

“Aw, baby. I’m sorry. Take deep breaths, okay. Then it’ll feel good again. It’s alright. Toru’s got you.”

The pain’s receding and pure pleasure is washing over you instead. Satoru is giving you the fucking of your life, and maybe this ovulation period really is making your cunt hungrier than usual, because you quickly wrap around your legs around him, pulling him deeper. 

He makes a low noise of approval. “That’s right, sweet thing. You’re gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you?”

You can feel his cock head rubbing against that spongy spot, you’re left reeling, making desperate gasps for air, and he’s grinning at you. He thinks it’s hilarious how reluctant you were before but now all you can think about is cock. His cock and how he’s making you feel so good. 

Satoru can’t decide between staring at your bouncing breasts or the way your pussy is sucking him in, leaving his cock shiny with your juices. Your clit is exposed, and, without much thought, he spits a fat glob onto it, watching the way it twitches so adorably. 

Then, as if he’s tired of foreplay, he tears off your clinging limbs and spins you around, wrangling you into his favourite position. Now, you’re on your knees, a hand on your back forcing you down into an almost painful arch. This way he can see everything and when he slides back in, he swears he goes even deeper, his tip kissing your cervix when he bottoms out. 

“Oh, Toru! Too deep! I c-can’t.”

He shushes you. “You can and you will. You have before, remember, baby? You love it when I fuck you from behind, don’t you?”

Soon, his relentless pummelling begins again, his heavy balls smacking against your clit, setting your nerves alight. He reaches below, one hand pressing down on that bulge in your lower stomach and the other twisting a nipple between his fingers. Satoru sees the light sheen of sweat on your back and he licks a stripe up your spine. 

“Every part of you tastes so good. How is that even -ha- possible?” He growls. 

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Instead, you beg, “Harder, Toru! Fuck me harder!”

And so, he does, he drills his pulsing cock inside, rubbing your clit as he pounds you over and over again, forcing your body to dive forward on the sofa, head hanging over the armrest. He’s stretching you out so much you almost can’t believe that he’s really in there, so when you examine your poor, sloppy pussy with your fingers, you can only whimper when you feel his cock undeniably hammering inside. 

“Told you this pussy’s gonna -ha- want me to fill her up. Now, who looks silly?”

You also feel the knot making its way in deeper with every thrust and you’re scared. How you manage to take it in every time is beyond you.

You forcibly cum — there’s no way you can’t, not when he’s meeting every sensitive spot inside and outside of your pussy, not when his delirious moans and groans is filling your head like a drug. Through your orgasm, he fucks you like you’re nothing but a wet hole, degrading and humiliating you for his own pleasure. 

“Satoru! No more! I can’t take anymore!”

“Nah, just a little -ha- more, baby, please? Take it all for me, okay? I need -ngh- you to take it all. Can’t be that -oh- hard if you’ve done it so many times before, can it?” He laughs, breathy and strained.

Your orgasm sparked in your womb, flaring out to your clit and your tits until your legs begin to tremble and you’re a shaking mess beneath him. And just as you’re about to give out, he holds your hips steady and slams his entire length inside of you, shoving that fat knot in and you’ve never felt so full.

“Fuck! You’re so tight. Oh God, I love you so much. I love you I love you I love you!”

His cum sprays inside of you, cock throbbing along with the pulsing clenches of your walls. His knot swells up, ballooning and stretching you out even more. Your pussy spams as he fills your womb with his cum. There’s so much of it and as he plugs you in, you can’t imagine there’s any space left inside of you. 

“Tell me I’m a good boy, baby please. Tell me I’m fucking you good. Please, I need it!”

Groggily, you managed to say a muffled, “You’re such a good boy, Toru. Always so good for me. My best boy.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” He whimpers. He’s not even talking to you, you’re pretty sure. He has a tendency to get so lost in the pleasure he genuinely believes you and your pussy are separate entities. “I love you so much. God, I want to stay inside forever.”

Husky!Gojo slumps against you, pinning you down again. You’re still skewered on his long, fat cock, the knot there keeping you joined for what feels like forever. Both of your bodies are sticky with sweat and mixed juices. But he doesn’t care, in fact, he loves it. He’s making lazy swipes of your neck and your face with his tongue. 

“Was I good? Did I do good?”

You wind an arm back, seeking out his fluffy hair, and once you feel its softness, you scratch him behind his ear, hearing his tail whack the sofa in rapid pats. “Yes, Toru, you were good.”

He huffs proudly at that. 

You’re still trying to catch your breath, trying to reorient yourself, and in the distance, you can feel the soreness that will creep in, but you don’t mind it. It’s hard to care when Satoru feels so warm and strong over you, encasing you in his love to shelter you from the cold as you both watch the snow continue to fall through the steam fogging up the glass. 

“We’ve got probably around twenty minutes before this thing goes down,” he mutters. “Wanna play I spy?”

[willbyersabyss]

So what are Will's flaws?

Is Will totally perfect in every way? Is he a jealous saboteur? Or a secret third option... neither. Let's discuss Will's flaws and nuances!

1. Emotional suppression

Will avoids his problems. He hates talking about both his emotional and physical danger because he doesn't want to be treated differently. From a young age, he was taught by Lonnie that he shouldn't express his emotions because that makes him "sensitive" and "weak." So now he likes to hide.

This emotional suppression causes his feelings to worsen over time. Once he finally lets it out, he explodes. Instead of healthy conversations, he says and does things that he'll probably regret later. He blows up at Mike, he yells at Jonathan, he destroys Castle Byers, he shows his hand (what about us?)

Will's avoidance doesn't only have consequences on him, but others. If he had told someone he was feeling the Mind Flayer earlier, they might've been able to save some of the Flayed. But he couldn't tell someone because that puts him in a place of emotional vulnerability. That's exactly why he waited until after he fought with the boys to mention the supernatural. He traded one vulnerable situation for another, allowing him to avoid opening up about his true feelings. It was a distraction.

This also doesn't let others to heal from their altercations. Both Lucas and Mike try to apologize to Will, but he brushes them off. Will thinks he doesn't deserve consideration. The walls he puts up forces others to hold onto their own guilt, leaving a sore spot in their relationship. We can see this soreness in Will and Mike's relationship in s4. They never healed from the rain fight. Well... not that Mike tried to apologize after the Mind Flayer debacle. Again, distraction on Will's part.

Will’s inability to handle change is also due to him bottling up his feelings. His trauma and suppression makes him stuck in the past. He doesn’t let himself move through each day where these emotions would be felt.

It's interesting how Will is deemed the emotional one when his sensitivity is actually a result of him keeping his emotions in. Once that dam is opened, it's hard for him to stop. He breaks, just as he fears.

2. Self-hatred

And all that emotional suppression leads to Will internalizing other people's view of him. Will's self-hatred stems from bullying and his father's abuse. He thinks he's to blame, that he's a mistake. As more people distance themselves from Will, he believes there's something wrong with him.

When he thinks he deserves mistreatment, his relationships crumble more. They're unable to reconcile. True forgiveness can't be achieved if he doesn't think he should be apologized to in the first place.

Will's hatred is the reason why he tried to sacrifice himself in s2 to save his friends. He doesn't think he deserves to be saved. This makes him an easy target for Vecna. It's very likely that Will's self-hatred will factor into his upcoming supernatural plot.

The more Will hates himself, the more he hides, the more he suppresses his emotions.

3. People pleaser

If Will is anything, he's a people pleaser. He's selfless. So much so that this is the first thing we find out about him. While admirable, it actually leads to more bad than good. His people pleasing tendency goes hand in hand with his emotional suppression. Will doesn't like to take up space and inconvenience other people.

Will's never ending effort to please others leads to him making assumptions. Wrong assumptions. Whether it be letting Max join them on Halloween or pushing Mike to give a love confession, Will tries his best to use his mediator role to give people what they want.

But he doesn't know what they want, does he? Will wanted to make Dustin and Lucas happy, but this created a rift with Mike. He thought Mike was itching to profess his love for El, but that wasn’t what either of them needed. In an attempt to help, he's making it worse.

He must be successful sometimes, though, because there's an expectation from his friends that he'll fulfill their needs at the flick of a wand. This vacancy from Will makes him a pushover. They think they can make fun of him and he'll just take it because that's what he does. When Will finally stands up for himself, they're shocked. That's out of character for him. It's like they want to say: “Why isn't he letting us be mean to him? :(”

Mike even expected Will to tell him that his own girlfriend was being bullied. Will's people pleasing explodes in his face. So now when he's unable to read their needs and fix it for them, he's to blame. Will takes on the weight of their problems too much. While it's good that they rely on him, there shouldn't be pressure for him to judge their every whim. But it's not exactly their fault because Will set the stage for this behavior.

Weirdly, Will's need to please others is the reason why he didn't call Mike. He thought Mike wanted nothing to do with him, so he didn't reach out. There he goes assuming things again! But Will was there, waiting for the rare occasion where Mike did want him. He went so far right that he ended up left.

Will's behavior towards El is also an instance of wrong assumptions. Will didn't like being treated differently in s2, so he assumed El would feel the same way. He used his own experiences to inform how he should treat others. Babying El would make her feel more ostracized. Instead, he offered emotional comfort, similar to the comfort he received, after the bullying. This doesn't really help her because she doesn't have the same emotional mechanics as Will.

So Will assumes things, pushes his own wants down, and lets people walk all over him all in the name of being pleasant.

4. Freeze, fly, fight. In that order!

When Will is scared, he freezes. This flaw is so significant that they talked about it textually multiple times. I'm not sure I would consider it a flaw since it has saved him more than it's harmed him, though.

The few times Will has decided to fight instead of freeze, he was kidnapped and possessed. Confrontation isn't an option for him. His body believes he'll be put directly in danger if he does anything but freeze/fly. Fight is only used as a last resort.

It only really enters flaw territory when it's an inconvenience. He froze during the sauna test, when El was being bullied, and when he should've shot the creature in the shed. Will is unable to help himself and others when he's scared.

When he snaps out of it, he cries and feels guilty for being so hesitant. He wishes he could do more but he can't. This wraps back around to his self-hatred.

5. Jealousy

When his best friend of 10 years that he's in love with starts to ditch him for some random girl, it's not shocking that there would be some jealousy! Will is the silent jealous type. His jealousy doesn't really manifest into resentment or outward action against the other person. Unlike a certain someone...

Will only shows it through rolling eyes, a snarky comment here or there, or an outburst at his most emotionally vulnerable. I mean, if Will really wanted to see El crash and burn, he could've kept his mouth shut the entire Rink-O-Mania day. Or he could've ignored her in the courtyard as she picks up the pieces of her project. But he didn't.

The worst we've seen Will's jealousy was during the rain fight. He called El stupid. There's no beating around the bush, he was in the wrong for that. But this came out of Will because his emotions were at an all time high. Why? Emotional suppression!

A lot of Will's snarky comments towards El are out of genuine confusion. He doesn't understand how El can have exactly what he wants, but she's willing to ruin it by lying. Unfortunately, he later learns that exact lesson. He's envious that she can do what Mike hates without major repercussions, while he's somehow blamed for her lies. And why does he get blamed? People pleaser expectations!

Will waited until a quiet moment to inform El of her mistakes. Will's goal isn't to humiliate El. He doesn't let his jealousy lead to resentment. Instead, he tried to (snarkily) lead her to make better decisions because it's not fair! It's not fair that she can have it all without working for it!

And now we're back at self-hatred. Some of his jealous moments make it bubble back up. He bends his painting, something he put his blood, sweat, and tears into, because he isn't enough for them. Their ideal day is without him. Will's art is an extension of himself. He's aiming his anger back at himself by hurting his art.

All of his flaws connect back to his low self-esteem in some way. This is why it's important for Will to receive and accept love in his life. A big part of his arc is self acceptance.

So there it is in all its glory! All of Will's main flaws in one post. What did we learn? Will suppresses his emotions, hates himself, pleases others to a fault, freezes, and is green with envy. And he wouldn't be Will without 'em!

[neil-gaiman]

hey Neil, I hope you are having a good day. There's this question that's been bothering me for years. I never knew who to ask, or how, and I was always sure it's only me who experiences these things. And then I looked back at my favorite book of yours -good omens- and I thought, of course! Neil! He's the perfect guy to ask! So here it is.

You wrote good omens with Terry Pratchett. You know that already, sorry. Here's the thing.

Whenever I work on things with people, no matter who they are, friends or colleagues or strangers, I always have a hard time collaborating. It's hard for me not to be in control of the project. I actually love the idea of making things with other people, and sometimes I have the best time doing it, but the minute they bring up an idea they have that I don't agree with or like- I have a hard time. I can never bring myself to say "sorry, i don't really like that idea", i hate hate hate saying no to people, or hurting their feelings, so I end up nodding politely and we end up with a finished project I dont like.

When you were writing good omens with Terry, how did you do it? How did you collaborate and make something so successful? Did you just never disagree with anything he came up with?

If you end up seeing this, thank you very much. This is a life- long problem of mine.

I suppose that both Terry and I knew that seeing that we were making art and telling a story, there wasn't any right or wrong about what we were making. It was art and it was fun. My only goal was to make Terry laugh, his goal was to make me laugh. With a subgoal of Get to the next Good Bit In The Plot Before The Other One did.

I don't remember any disagreements or arguments, any more than you see disagreements and arguments in people doing Improv comedy. We both knew the book we were writing, and each day we'd talk on the phone, the aim being to make the other one laugh. When we did that successfully we knew we were heading in the right direction.

One reason i suspect we never actually wrote the sequel after plotting it is that it would have been a job and not just fun.

It sounds like your collaborations aren't any fun. Better you should do solo stuff.

[cherienymphe]

Worth It

Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: After finally finding the strength to end your toxic relationship, Rafe thinks he can win you back, no idea that you've been sleeping with his best friend.

warnings: Non-Con, mentions of cheating, toxic relationship, semi-public sex, jealousy, secret relationship, mentions of side of Rafe x reader, kook!reader, non canon ages, p*rn with a plot

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies 

➥ Can this be read as a one shot? Yes! Can this be read as a follow up to Escapism? Also yes!

⭑

You hated the way tears spilled over as Topper forced you to stare into his eyes. You blamed it on the alcohol in your system—your inability to fully control your emotions, right now. The living room was only lit from the glow of the TV, a movie playing that all three of you had long stopped watching, but you could see the blond—and the determination on his face—perfectly.

“Topper,” you quietly gasped, pushing your arm against his neck. “Stop. Rafe-.”

Your words were cut off in your throat with one particularly hard thrust from him, his hips smacking against yours as he fucked you on the floor of Rafe’s living room. The other blond was in the shower, slightly tipsy himself and none the wiser to what was happening downstairs. Topper snapping and taking matters into his own hands wasn’t surprising. Knowing how he could sometimes get about you, you’d expected it at some point…

Just not here and now.

After a tumultuous eight months with Rafe Cameron, you finally found the strength and resolve to break up with him and keep it that way. He was an okay friend, but he’d turned out to be an even worse boyfriend. The constant lies and disrespect and betrayal had finally gotten to you and pushed you to do something about it that didn’t just involve fucking his best friend.

No one was happier than Topper when a month went by and you still hadn’t given in to Rafe’s half assed apologies and pleas. 

It was when it finally started to sink in for everyone that you were serious this time. Rafe wasn’t going to win you back this time, and especially not with the sorry excuses of apologies he always gave. You could see it in his eyes every time you were around each other—the barely contained anger and disbelief and most of all the aggravation that he couldn’t do anything about it.

To the public, you were a single woman.

It was a different story behind closed doors.

Topper never had a problem crawling into your bed every time Rafe hurt you, so he especially had no qualms about it now that you and the toxic blond had broken up for good. He could touch you and kiss you and fuck you without abandon. You no longer had to worry about the sound of Rafe’s knocks interrupting you or being quiet when he was asleep just down the hall or refusing sex with him because you were still sensitive from the feel of Topper’s cock only an hour before.

You and Topper were in heaven…

Until Rafe decided that he wanted to actually put in the work with earning your forgiveness.

“I treated you like shit,” he’d said to you one day, shocking you. “I always have and I know that and…you were right to leave me. You should’ve left me after the first time I cheated.”

There’d been a time when you would’ve killed to hear those words coming from Rafe’s mouth. Now though, now you didn’t care. Even though he didn’t know it, you’d gotten back at him in the best way possible, and it was only made better because that’d never been your intent. You hadn’t wanted to ‘get back’ at Rafe that night Topper told you about the other blond and some girl. You’d just been heartbroken…and craving the touch of another.

“Well…thank you for saying that,” you’d responded.

It was sincere. Even though you were at a place where you didn’t need to hear those words anymore, they were still nice to hear all the same. Rafe had nodded as he gazed at you, both of you in your own world away from the rest of the party.

“We’re over, and I get that now, but…we were friends once.”

You’d looked down at that, gathering where he was going with this and wondering how you and he could ever be friends again after all he’d done to you…and even you to him. He’d been your friend once but that hadn’t stopped him from cheating on you and embarrassing you and just overall treating you like shit. You were friends once but that hadn’t stopped you from sneaking around with his best friend once you found yourself at your breaking point with Rafe’s behavior.

“Look, I miss us being around each other and actually talking, you know. And I know I don’t have anyone to blame but myself, but I miss it…” your gaze met his. “I do, and I’m serious about showing you how sorry I am this time.”

You thought it was…nice.

Topper disagreed.

“We both know Rafe,” he spat at you that same night. “You know better than this. The normal routine isn’t working, so now he’s trying something different, and if you think Rafe has any interest in being your friend, I swear to God, Y/N, I will lose any respect-.”

“I am not some stupid bimbo! You don’t think I’ve considered that?” you threw your hands up. “...but I don’t see you cutting him off as a friend anytime soon, so unfortunately I still have to be around and interact with the man who broke my heart. That’ll be a lot easier now that he’s not trying to kill me with his mind every time we’re in the same room.”

Topper hadn’t had a response for that because it was true. Despite how awfully Rafe had treated you, he was still part of your normal circle—the two of you having way too many people in common—and it was something that bothered you but the alternative was isolating yourself from the people you cared about, and that just wasn’t fair to you.

It was obvious then that Topper wasn’t happy with the turn of events, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He was forced to sit back and watch as Rafe played nice with you and talked to you like nothing had happened and even flirt with you in that way he used to back before you dated. He hated it, and it was obvious long before tonight, but with alcohol flowing and trips down memory lane, Rafe got too comfortable.

…and right there in front of Topper, the other blond had thrown his arm around you before pressing his lips to your cheek.

It was only with your quick thinking that the kiss landed on your cheek instead of your lips, and picking up on the change in atmosphere, Rafe had pulled away.

“Shit,” he’d mumbled with a chuckle, running his hand through his hair. “I think I need to sober up a little bit.”

Neither you or Topper paid him much attention as he talked about needing a shower, completely oblivious to what he’d just done. You and the remaining blond merely stared at one another as Rafe made his way upstairs—his family out for the night—and it was only when you heard the bathroom door shut that Topper pounced. A hushed argument turned into something more, Topper’s anger only getting worse by the second, and you couldn’t hold in your pained gasp when his hand twisted into your hair.

Topper’s lips were on you, and his other hand was pushing at the skirt you’d put on this morning. He was a man with tunnel vision, completely uncaring about your ex—his best friend—just upstairs in the shower. No amount of times mentioning that seemed to matter, and despite the fact that you were not in the mood to have sex with Rafe so close by, Topper had reached his breaking point.

His fingers had started to curl inside of you before you knew it, one hand hanging onto him to keep from falling and the other pulling on his wrist as a means to get him to stop. Despite your slight inebriation, your feet had firmly planted on the floor to prevent Topper from pushing you down because you knew that it was over the moment he managed to get you onto your back.

With every push of his fingers into your walls, you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter, his movements becoming smoother as his fingers and hand became slick with your juices. His teeth scraped at your neck, causing a shudder to travel up your spine, and you felt his thumb join his other fingers, circling around and over your clit. The way he massaged that bundle of nerves had you faltering, and Topper saw the opportunity and took it.

It was how you found yourself on your back, literally pushing at him and pleading with him to stop.

“I don’t care,” was his only response when you mentioned Rafe the first time.

You did though, and for the first time, you found yourself genuinely resisting him and trying to get him off of you. Your skirt was hiked up around your waist—the shirt you were wearing ripped open—and Topper had long pulled at your underwear and twisted them and stretched them to give him access to push his hard cock into you. You’d almost been unable to swallow down the choked gasp that threatened to escape your throat.

He was slow in fucking you at first, distracted by the way the length of him repeatedly disappeared inside of you. He always loved that, watching your cunt greedily taking him, watching the way you dripped around him and made a mess on the pink shaft. Every protest mumbled from your lips went ignored, and it was only because you could still hear the sound of Rafe in the shower that you didn’t panic.

However, mentioning Rafe again had the man on top of you changing his pace. His thrusts grew in temp, pushing himself into you and pulling out quicker and quicker. Topper had long discarded his shirt, his shorts pulled down to his ankle as he curved his hips against yours.

“Fuck,” he cursed, grinding himself against you. “Stop talking about Rafe, just stop.”

Your forearm was pressed to his neck, tears in your eyes as you attempted to get through to him.

“He’s right upstairs,” you angrily whispered, voice panicked. “Are you crazy? Get off of me!”

It came out louder than you intended, but you’d have a much easier time explaining to Rafe what a possible noise was than what he’d see if he came down the stairs at any moment. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that the thought turned Topper on, his blue eyes glinting in a way you’d never seen as he continued to plunge his cock into you. Every time he pulled his hips back until only the tip of him remained just inside of your folds, you could hear the wet sound it made. When he thrust back into you, the squelch reached your ears, and you were too terrified to linger on how that normally turned you on.

You could only think about Rafe hearing the same thing and going on a rampage.

When Topper pulled back, you foolishly thought he decided to listen to you, but instead he only rested on his knees, his hands grabbing your thighs and yanking you closer. The moan you let out was loud and breathy, the action having caused you to feel the tip of him deep into your gut, Your legs rested over his own thighs, and Topper’s fingers dug into your hips as he jerked himself into you over and over.

Your chest was heaving, and you didn’t miss the way his hooded eyes traced over you, taking it in. Your toes curled with every push of his hips, and faintly, you could hear the distant sound of water running. A blue glow was casted over Topper’s tan skin, evidence of how much time he’d been spending in the sun. under any other circumstance, you’d reach out to run your hands over him.

Not tonight.

“Topper, please,” you breathlessly sighed.

It almost sounded like you were begging him for more, but as it were, you were begging him to stop being an asshole and get off of you. Your gaze trailed over his face and the intensity you saw there. His lips were parted, and his tongue rested just on his teeth as he looked down at you and enjoying the sight of you taking his cock. Your eyes traveled down his chest, taking note of the sweaty sheen it held.

Your gaze eventually stopped.

You watched the way his cock slid in and out of you, almost transfixed by the sight. He stretched you out so good, always had, and it was hard to ignore the way your body buzzed and your heart fluttered and your stomach tightened. You were torn between wanting to give in and adopt his ‘fuck Rafe’ mindset and trying your hardest to push him off of you.

You and Rafe weren’t together anymore, but him catching the two of you would open a whole can of worms that would ruin the dynamic between you three far worse than anything Rafe had done. Rafe had done you dirty so many times, and it didn’t matter that you’d only cheated on him with one guy. It was the right guy—the only guy that would turn his world upside down in the capacity that he’d turned yours. You didn’t want to experience the fallout of that.

More tears spilled over.

“You look so pretty like this, you know that?” Topper wondered, shifting and leaning over you as his hand circled your neck. “Panicked and teary-eyed and absolutely squirming on my cock.”

“Topper, I am begging you,” you tearfully pleaded, grabbing his hand and using your other to push at his chest. “Rafe…”

“You know what? I want him to see, and I’m tired of pretending like I don’t.”

Your eyes widened at that.

“It’d be more than what he deserves.”

The animosity and venom in his tone shocked you, and you didn't react to him brushing your tears away with his thumb. His nose brushed against yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he started fucking you harder, putting way more vigor into each thrust.

“He’s done nothing but treat you like shit…and he thinks he still can,” the blond quietly said, and you heard the sound of the shower turning off upstairs. “I want him to see me fucking the shit out of you.”

He reached down, gently pinching your clit and taking pleasure in the way you moaned.

“I want him to see me stretching you out and burying my cock into this pussy that only gets wet for me…”

Your eyes rolled at his words, and you almost forgot why you wanted him off of you so much.

“I want him to see me come inside of you,” Topper moaned, burning his face into the crook of your neck. “I want him to know that I’m spilling into you and you’re greedily milking me for every drop. I’ll happily tell him all the times I’ve done it.”

You shuddered at that, your nails digging into his arm.

“All the times I sent you right back to him with my cum between your thighs.”

“Fuck, Topper.”

You didn’t know if you were saying that in a good way or bad way. You didn’t know why, but you had never realized just how much animosity Topper held for Rafe. You supposed that he’d have to have a healthy dose to repeatedly fuck his girlfriend, but you’d always thought that had more to do with Topper’s feelings about you and recognizing that Rafe simply wasn’t good enough for you.

However, considering that the three of you were once the best of friends, it made sense that Topper would grow to hate Rafe more and more every time he witnessed him putting you through hell.

“I’m going to fill you up and I don’t care who sees.”

His words were doing a good job of convincing you, and you felt yourself caring less and less too the longer Topper fucked you towards your high. You felt your own hips lifting in time with his to meet his thrusts, getting to a point where he held himself still while you fucked yourself onto his cock.

Rafe had hurt you so much, and yes while his actions of tonight were probably driven by alcohol, he clearly thought he’d get the opportunity to hurt you again. He clearly thought you’d give in, and you two would be right back where you were three months ago. Not only did that make you angry, but it hurt. Choosing to try and be friends again was way more than he deserved, and once again, he was attempting to take advantage of your kindness.

For the first time ever, you wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt you.

Really hurt him.

…and when you found yourself on top of Topper, you didn’t care. He was lifting his hips up into you, one hand on your breast and the other on your hip to help guide you up and down his length. The tip of his cock was hitting something inside of you that had you gasping for breath. You couldn’t stop the breathless gasps and softs mewls that left your lips, eyes half closed as you fucked Topper in Rafe’s own house. You were making a mess on his skin, but you didn’t care.

You didn’t care that you were dripping around him, the inside of your thighs sticky from your juices. You didn’t care that your bra was askew as Topper pinched a hardened bud between his fingers. You only cared about pressing the palms of your hands against his chest to ground yourself and make it easier to bounce on top of him. You only cared about chasing your climax, feeling it come closer with every stroke inside of you, and when you tightened around him—Topper spilling into your eager cunt with a groan—you didn’t care when you looked up and fixed your gaze towards the stairs, locking eyes with his best friend.

[mcrdvcks]

dress ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

chapter summary: You and Logan take a tropical vacation for the new year.

'there is an indentation in the shape of you only bought this dress so you could take it off you made your mark on me, golden tattoo'

word count: 2.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is inspired by this post from @yxtkiwiyxt. i saw it and couldn't get it out of my head (also because i'm ovulating, and also because hugh in australia makes me weak!!!)

anyways, happy new year, and i hope y'all like this!

warnings/tags: you and logan are married, fluff, pet names, smut, porn with little to no plot, slight exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), fingering, handjob, unprotected piv, creampie

If someone would’ve asked you if Logan knew how to swim, you would’ve floundered. Because the truth was you weren’t sure if your husband could actually swim or not.

But since you and Logan have been on the beach for the past few days for the new year you learned the he, in fact, can swim.

And looked quite good while doing it.

So, while Logan swam in the waves, after you put sunscreen on him even after he protested saying “I heal, ‘member?”, you sunbathed with a large sunhat and sunglasses and your tiny bikini.

As you lounged on your towel, soaking up the warmth of the sun, you occasionally glanced up from behind your sunglasses to watch Logan in the water. He was all broad shoulders and toned muscles, cutting through the waves like he was born to it.

When he caught you staring, he smirked and shouted, “Enjoyin’ the view?”

You tilted your sunglasses down just enough to meet his gaze. “Absolutely. Keep showing off.”

Logan chuckled, shaking water out of his hair like a dog, and waded back toward you. “Don’t get too comfortable. You’re comin’ in.”

“No, I’m not,” you said, leaning back and adjusting your sunhat. “This is prime relaxation time.”

He crouched beside you, droplets of water rolling off him and landing on your skin, making you squeal. “C’mon, darlin’. You can’t come to the beach and not get in the water.”

You reached for a towel and swatted at him. “I can and I will. Some of us don’t heal instantly if we scrape against a rock.”

Logan’s grin widened. “You’re no fun.”

“And you’re dripping all over me,” you shot back, laughing as he deliberately shook his head again to spray you. “Logan!”

He plopped down on the sand beside you, his smirk unrepentant. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“You’re such a child,” you teased, throwing the towel at his chest.

He caught it easily, using it to wipe his face before tossing it aside. “You love it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why,” you teased, knowing full well why.

Logan leaned back on his elbows, his eyes roaming over you with open appreciation. “Can’t say I hate this view either,” he said, his tone dipping into something softer.

Your face warmed, but you kept your cool. “Careful. You’re starting to sound sweet.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, but his expression stayed warm.

After a beat, he reached over and tugged on the brim of your sunhat. “Seriously though, you comin’ in or not?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, smirking. “Maybe after I finish my nap.”

Logan rolled his eyes and stood, brushing sand off his legs. “Fine. But when I come back, you’re not gettin’ out of it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he jogged back toward the water, calling over his shoulder, “Better be ready!”

---

You walked out of the cabana the two of you rented while Logan stood at the patio, smoking his cigar waiting for you. He turned around and looked at your outfit before stubbing the cigar in the palm of his hand.

“Your wearin’ that out?”

“Yeah, why?” It was a simple outfit, nothing more than a bikini set with a matching mesh swim maxi skirt.

"Nothin’. Just gettin’ prepared to punch someone when he tries to get handsy," Logan said, his tone casual, but the look he gave you was anything but.

You raised an eyebrow, adjusting the strap of your bag. "Oh, so you’re on bodyguard duty now?"

"Always," he said, stepping closer to wrap an arm around your waist. "Can’t let anyone get ideas, princess."

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway. "You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love with you," Logan smirked, brushing a kiss to your temple. "Now, c’mon. You said somethin’ about pancakes?"

"Yeah, there’s a diner down the street," you said, trying to hide your smile. "I heard they have good coffee too."

"Better be, or we’re never comin’ back," Logan muttered, grabbing his wallet from the patio table.

As the two of you walked toward the diner, Logan kept his hand resting on the small of your back. The streets were quiet, the morning sun warming everything up nicely.

"So," you teased as you glanced at him, "are you gonna threaten the waiter too if he smiles at me?"

Logan’s lips twitched. "Depends. He got a death wish?"

You nudged him playfully with your shoulder. "Behave, Logan."

"I’ll try," he said, smirking. "But no promises, sweetheart."

When you reached the diner, the smell of coffee and bacon wafted through the air. A cheerful hostess greeted you with a bright smile. Logan’s eyes narrowed just a touch, but he didn’t say anything as you both followed her to a booth near the window.

The moment you slid into the seat, Logan leaned back in his chair and studied the menu. "What’re you gettin’?"

"Probably the blueberry pancakes," you said, scanning your own menu. "You?"

"Steak and eggs," he said without hesitation. "Always steak and eggs."

"Of course," you teased. "You ever get tired of being so predictable?"

"Nope," Logan said, setting the menu down. "You love it."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

The waitress came by to take your orders, and Logan couldn’t resist throwing in a gruff "make the coffee strong" with his request. You bit back a grin as the waitress nodded and walked away.

"You’re impossible," you said once she was out of earshot.

"And yet, here you are," Logan said, reaching across the table to take your hand. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and for a moment, his expression softened. "Not that I’m complainin’, princess."

"Good," you said, lacing your fingers with his. "Because you’re stuck with me."

Logan smirked, his grip tightening just a little. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

---

You finished tying off your bikini as you stepped outside onto the patio of your cabana. Logan had just reached the steps when he stopped at the bottom and looked up at you.

“Ya sure you want to go swimmin’? ‘Cause I can think of somethin’ better to do.”

You planted a hand on your hip, tilting your head at him. “A few days ago, you were practically begging me to get in the water.”

Logan’s grin widened as he took the stairs two at a time to meet you on the patio. His hands found your hips immediately, thumbs brushing the bare skin above your bikini bottoms. “Yeah, but now I got you here, lookin’ like that.”

You rolled your eyes, but your breath hitched when his fingers pressed just a little harder into your sides. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re irresistible, sweetheart.” His voice dipped low as he tugged you closer. “Don’t blame me for havin’ my priorities straight.”

“The water’s gonna be great,” you tried, but even you didn’t sound convinced.

Logan smirked. “So’s this.” His lips were on yours before you could argue, the kiss deep and insistent, his hands sliding to your lower back to press you against him. The heat of his body, combined with the sun warming your skin, had your pulse racing in seconds.

You broke away, barely catching your breath. “Logan…”

“Mhm?” His mouth was already trailing down your jaw, his scruff rough but deliciously familiar.

“We’re outside.”

“No one’s around,” he murmured, lips brushing the sensitive spot below your ear. “And I’ll stop if you tell me to.”

You didn’t tell him to stop.

Instead, you let out a shaky exhale as his hands slid lower, gripping your hips firmly before guiding you toward the lounge chair on the patio. Logan sat, pulling you to stand between his legs as his hands roamed, his touch searing.

“Gotta say,” he said, looking up at you with a wicked grin, “I’m likin’ this view.”

“You’re impossible,” you said, but your voice lacked any real protest.

Logan just smirked, his hands sliding up to the tie of your bikini top. “Let me prove how good impossible can be.”

Your knees nearly buckled when he leaned forward, his lips brushing the curve of your stomach. He untied the strings with a precision that made you wonder if he’d practiced on purpose, and before you knew it, your top was discarded on the chair beside him. His gaze darkened as he looked at you, the intensity in his eyes making your skin flush even hotter.

“Logan…” you started, but whatever you were about to say was swallowed by a gasp when he pulled you down onto his lap, his hands spreading over your thighs to hold you steady.

“Relax, princess,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ve got you.”

And he did. Logan always did.

Before you could think too much about it, his hands gripped your hips again, guiding you down to lie back on the lounge chair. He followed, lips trailing down your neck, your chest, lower and lower until you were arching beneath him, fingers curling into his hair.

“Logan…”

“What?” he murmured against your skin, his tone smug but affectionate. “Told ya this was a better idea.”

You couldn’t even argue, not when he was kissing his way down your stomach, his hands slipping beneath the waistband of your bikini bottoms. He tugged them down slowly, teasingly, and you swore he chuckled when you squirmed.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he said, the smirk evident in his voice.

“You’re the one who—oh,” your words cut off in a sharp intake of breath as his mouth found its mark, his tongue working magic that made your thoughts scatter completely. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he focused entirely on you, the roughness of his scruff contrasting perfectly with the soft heat of his tongue.

You bit down on your lip to muffle the sounds escaping you, but Logan wasn’t having it. He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening. “Don’t hold back, princess. Wanna hear you.”

Your breath hitched at the way he said it, at the sheer hunger in his voice. And when he went back to work, you didn’t bother trying to stay quiet anymore.

Logan growled his approval, the sound vibrating against your skin and sending shockwaves through your body. You clutched at the chair’s edges, your nails digging into the fabric as he pushed you higher and higher, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

By the time he finally came up for air, his grin was nothing short of predatory. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Told ya, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rough but full of amusement. “Better than swimmin’.”

You glared at him half-heartedly, still trying to catch your breath. “You’re insufferable.” You put a finger in the waistband of his swim shorts, tugging him closer. “But you better finish what you’ve started.”

Logan’s grin turned wicked as he leaned in, kissing his way back up your body. Each press of his lips left a trail of heat, starting at your hip and moving slowly, deliberately, up your stomach, your ribs, and finally to the soft curve of your breast. He bit gently at your skin, just enough to make you gasp, before his tongue soothed the spot.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble, “I always finish what I start.”

His hands slid to your hips, gripping firmly as he repositioned you, tugging you up until you were sitting astride him. Logan’s swim shorts were gone in one swift motion, discarded carelessly onto the patio. He leaned back on the chair, pulling you with him until his broad chest was flush against your back. His hands roamed over your thighs, squeezing possessively before sliding upward.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice rough and full of want. “Perfect.”

You shifted slightly, adjusting yourself over him as his hands moved up to cup your breasts. He kneaded them gently, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, drawing a soft moan from you.

“That’s it,” Logan said, his lips brushing your ear. “Let me hear you, princess.”

You reached down, your fingers grazing his length, and he let out a low growl at the contact. Slowly, you wrapped your hand around him, stroking with a firm but teasing grip. His hips bucked slightly into your touch, and you couldn’t help the smug smile that spread across your face.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, your tone breathy but playful.

“Sweetheart,” Logan said, his voice strained, “if you keep that up, I’ll lose my damn mind.”

You laughed softly, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your hand moved in a steady rhythm. Logan’s hand slid lower, his fingers slipping between your legs to find your slick heat. He groaned, his lips pressing against your neck as he worked you open with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his fingers curling just right. “So ready for me.”

You whimpered, your hips grinding down against his hand as he pushed you closer to the edge. Your free hand reached back to grip his wrist, stopping him just as you felt yourself teetering.

“Logan,” you said, your voice shaky but firm. “I need you. Now.”

His breath hitched at your words, and he withdrew his fingers, letting you guide him. You positioned yourself, the anticipation making your whole body tremble, and then you slowly sank down onto him. The stretch was intoxicating, and the low growl Logan let out made your pulse race.

“That’s it,” he said, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “Atta girl.”

You took him inch by inch, your breath hitching as he filled you completely. Once you were settled, his hands slid up your sides, holding you steady as you adjusted to the feel of him. Logan’s lips found the curve of your shoulder, pressing kisses there as his thumbs brushed the sensitive skin above your hips.

"Sweet girl," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "So perfect."

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head back to rest against his shoulder. "You’re not so bad yourself, Lo."

Logan chuckled, the sound vibrating through your back. His hands moved to your thighs, gripping firmly as he guided your movements. "C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s see what you’ve got."

You rolled your hips experimentally, the sensation drawing a sharp inhale from both of you. Encouraged, you began to move in a steady rhythm, each roll of your hips earning a low growl of approval from Logan.

"That’s it," he said, his voice rough with need. "Just like that."

Your hands found his thighs, using them for leverage as you moved. "God, Logan," you breathed, your voice shaky. "You feel so good."

"You’re the one makin’ it good, princess," he said, his hands sliding back to your hips. He squeezed gently, helping you find a faster pace. "Look at you, takin’ me so well."

You couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped you, the combination of his words and his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Logan’s hands moved up, one sliding to rest on your stomach while the other cupped your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple.

"Logan," you gasped, your movements faltering slightly as the sensation overwhelmed you.

"I’ve got you," he said, his lips brushing against your ear. "Don’t stop now, sweetheart. Keep goin’."

You pushed yourself to keep moving, the friction and the heat building with every motion. Logan’s hand on your stomach slid lower, his fingers finding the spot where your bodies joined. He teased you there, his touch light but deliberate.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling. "Don’t stop, honey."

Logan’s breath hitched at the endearment, and his touch became firmer, more insistent. "Never, sweetheart. Wanna make you fall apart for me."

Your pace quickened, spurred on by his words and the sensations he was coaxing from you. The sound of your breathing mingled with his low groans, the air around you thick with heat and need. Logan’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he met your movements with thrusts of his own.

"So good," he muttered, his voice rough and broken. "You’re so damn good, princess."

"Logan," you said again, his name a breathless plea. "I—I’m close."

"I know," he said, his tone softening just a bit. "I’ve got you, sweet girl. Just let go for me."

With one final roll of your hips, you felt the tension snap, your release washing over you in waves. You cried out, your hands clutching at his thighs as your movements stilled. Logan’s hand on your stomach held you steady as he continued to move, chasing his own release. It didn’t take long; a low growl rumbled in his chest as he buried himself deep, his grip on you firm as he followed you over the edge.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the soft crash of waves in the distance and your labored breathing. Logan’s hands slid up your sides, wrapping around your waist to hold you close.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice rough but gentle.

You nodded, leaning back against him. "Better than okay," you said, your voice soft but satisfied. "You’re unbelievable."

Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Right back at ya, princess."

You stayed like that for a while, basking in the warmth of the sun and each other. Logan’s hands continued to roam lazily over your skin, his touch comforting and possessive. When he finally spoke again, his voice was tinged with amusement.

"Still think swimmin’ was the better idea?"

You laughed softly, turning your head to meet his gaze. "Not even close, Lo. Not even close."