#i looked her up and went to find her films

[count-on-mi]

Mommy's little boy Part 4 (Dahyun)

Y/N: So finally I have sometime to translate a fic, I have trimmed down some parts so it would not be too lenghty. Incest fic with Mommy Dahyun, and even make her pregrant, enjoy!

Dahyun is a single mother. Her husband passed away from illness many years ago, leaving her and her young son to rely on each other.

Since her husband passed away, Dahyun has been missing him every day. However, to raise her son to adulthood, she has to work tirelessly to earn money to support the family. In the dead of night, Dahyun often tosses and turns in bed, unable to fall asleep, and her physical desires rise accordingly. But she doesn't dare casually find a man to satisfy her physical needs, fearing it might cast a shadow and impact her son's growth.

At times like this, Dahyun can only rely on her own hands to relieve her physical needs. She would quietly turn off the room lights, take off her underwear, gently rub the two rosy spots on her chest with her hands, then reach down to the already muddy little hole, inserting and withdrawing her fingers until she reached climax.

But such self-satisfaction always leaves one feeling empty and lost; Dahyun longs for a real embrace to lean on. She has never been able to take that step out of consideration for her son.

However, what Dahyun did not expect was that unbeknownst to her, her son was secretly developing unusual feelings for her. Whenever she was alone in her room "entertaining herself," there was always a pair of burning eyes outside the door, closely watching her every move.

The voyeur was none other than her son—me. Ever since Dad passed away, I have been secretly watching over everything about Mom. I watched as my mother gradually became thinner, knowing that she was very lonely. One time, I accidentally stumbled upon my mother in the act of masturbation, awakening something within me. From then on, I often hid outside the door when my mother was unaware, secretly watching her private actions, and even masturbated while watching.

Dahyun was completely unaware of this and continued to live her ordinary life every day. But she didn't know that the embrace she longed for day and night was right beside her.

As time went by, my desire for my mother grew increasingly rampant. I was not satisfied with just peeking from outside the door; instead, I started stealing my mother's underwear to comfort myself.

Whenever my mother was not home, I would sneak into her room and open the wardrobe to look for her worn clothes. I would pick up her wore but unwashed bra, inhale the lingering scent deeply, and then put it on my erect penis to rub against it.; Or take a pair of silk panties that mom wore but haven't been washed yet, wrap them around my cock, and jerk off like crazy. Imagining that this is Mom's little hole swallowing my cock, I always quickly reached climax.

Sometimes when Mom is at home, I pretend to accidentally drop something on the floor, taking the opportunity to quickly glance at Mom's legs while bending down to pick it up, sneaking a peek at the color and style of Mom's underwear. If she is putting on a new pair of underwear, I will specifically choose that one to use the next time I steal underwear.

In addition to stealing underwear, I also started secretly filming videos of my mother masturbating with my phone. One time, I heard strange sounds coming from my mother's room. I quietly opened the door and saw Dahyun lying on the bed with her legs spread apart, one hand kneading her breasts and the other moving rapidly in her vagina. That scene made my blood boil, and I immediately took out my phone and started recording my mother's private parts. In the video, it is clearly visible that Mom's pink labia are being spread open, fingers going in and out, the sound of water is continuous, and her expression gradually becomes more and more lustful.

From then on, whenever Mom was alone, I would take the opportunity to secretly film her naked. I have already collected countless videos of my mother during her orgasms, which I can watch and masturbate anytime, anywhere.

Dahyun was completely unaware of all this and continued to live her monotonous life day after day. She never imagined that her closest son would develop such perverse desires towards her.

I could no longer bear the desire that had been suppressed in my heart for many years. One day during dinner, I suddenly said to Dahyun, "Mom, I have something to tell you."

Dahyun looked at me with some surprise, thinking I had gotten into trouble at school again. "Y/N, what's wrong? Did the teacher make you stand in the corner again?"

"No, Mom. I want to tell you that my feelings for you... are a bit complicated."

Dahyun paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "What do kids know about love? The most important thing for you right now is to study hard."

"Not at all!" I suddenly became agitated, stood up, and took off my pants, revealing a thick, erect penis. "My feelings for you, Mom, are not just simple affection! I know you've been lonely all these years, just like I have! Every time you're alone in your room, I stand outside, staring at your body, wanting to possess you, to touch you, to give you true pleasure!"

Dahyun stared at me in disbelief; my words had completely shattered her worldview. She never expected her son to have such taboo feelings for her. "Y/N! What are you talking about? I'm your mother, how can you have such thoughts about me?!"

"But I can't help it, Mom! Every night, I think about your masturbation and watch videos of you to climax. I know it's wrong, but I just can't control myself!" I gripped my penis and moved it up and down, my eyes fixed on Dahyun's body. "Mom, I know you're lonely too. Why can't we satisfy each other? “I will make you experience unprecedented pleasure..."

"Enough!" Dahyun angrily interrupted me, turned around, rushed back to her room, and locked the door. She lay on the bed, crying uncontrollably, feeling deeply guilty for having ignored her son's emotional changes all these years. At the same time, she felt deeply fearful and uneasy about her son's thoughts.

The next morning, Dahyun woke up early as usual to prepare breakfast for me. I came downstairs to the dining room, and as soon as I sat down, I pulled one of Dahyun's hands and placed it on my lap.

"Mom, please reconsider what I said last night.” I know this sounds crazy, but for so many years I've been suppressing my feelings for you, and now I really can't stand it anymore. As long as you are willing to give me a chance, I will make you feel an unprecedented pleasure..."

Dahyun was so scared she almost jumped up, hurriedly pulling her hand away. "Y/N! What are you doing? I'm your biological mother! How can we do such a thing!"

"Mom, listen to me..." I reached out and gently pulled Dahyun closer to me, then hugged her tightly. "I know this is hard to accept, but don't you really want to experience it? “You’ve been through so much alone all these years; I can't bear to see you continue living in such loneliness. Believe me, you will find true happiness with me..."

Dahyun struggled desperately but couldn't escape my embrace. She looked at her son in terror, this child she had loved and cared for since I was little, now harbouring such wicked thoughts towards her.

"Y/N, wake up! We are mother and son, doing such things is against moral ethics! Even if you don't understand these principles now because you are still young, you will regret what you did today when you grow up!"

"No, Mom. I am already an adult now, I can take responsibility for my actions. And you should indulge yourself once, experience the true pleasure of sex..."

I said this as I began to kiss Dahyun's cheeks and neck, my hands restlessly roaming over her body. Dahyun only felt a wave of dizziness, her whole body weakly collapsing into her son's embrace.

"Don't... Y/N... let go of me... I'm your mother... we can't do this..."

"Shh..." I once again took Dahyun's hand and placed it on my throbbing member. "Mom, look, my cock has become so big. It's craving your comfort. Do you know how much I crave your body? Every time I watch you in the bathroom, I can't help but imagine how beautiful and captivating your naked body is. Why don't we give in to our inner desires and try a taboo relationship just this once?

Dahyun felt her son's palm as hot as a branding iron, tightly gripping her small hand and sliding it along my shaft. My penis is so huge that it almost swallows her entire hand. She never thought her son would develop such a huge thing; it was simply beyond her comprehension.

As her palm rubbed, a surge of heat quickly surged into Dahyun's brain, causing her to involuntarily let out a soft gasp. She hadn't tasted the pleasures of the flesh in a long time, and her lower body was gradually becoming moist.

“Oh my... my son's manhood... so thick and strong... if only it could come inside... how pleasurable it would be...”

Dahyun's cheeks flushed, her reason gradually being eroded by her body's desires. Although she still felt resistance in her heart, she couldn't stop herself from fantasizing and desiring her son's penis. This kind of taboo thought made her feel incredibly ashamed, yet it also brought an inexplicable excitement.

"Mom, I'm waiting for your answer... Are you really not willing to give me a chance to satisfy your needs? I will make you experience unprecedented pleasure... trust me..."

Her son's whispers echoed in her ears, and Dahyun's body trembled suddenly. She knew she had already been captivated by her son's words. Reason told her she shouldn't agree to such a request, but desire kept tempting her.

Dahyun is still struggling with whether to give in to her son's desires, with reason and desire waging a fierce battle in her heart. Her son's penis was simply too sexy and alluring; its hot, firm touch made it hard for her to resist. But as a mother, how could she do something so morally wrong?

I was unaware of the conflict in my mother's heart; I was only focused on enjoying the sensual scene before me. I vigorously kneaded Dahyun's round breasts and erected nipples, feeling their elasticity and softness in my hands. I then turned to knead Dahyun's full, perky buttocks, my fingers sliding between the two fleshy cheeks.

“Ah... so comfortable... Mom's body is truly perfect... I can finally possess you... I'm going to thoroughly enjoy your body...”

I was extremely excited, and my actions became bolder and bolder. However, I overlooked a fact—I was just a newly adult young man who had no idea how to control my strength. My rough touches and pinches left Dahyun's body marked with red, making her cry out in pain.

"Ah... Y/N... be gentler... you're hurting me..."

Dahyun twisted her body trying to escape, only to find herself in an even deeper predicament. Her son's rough caresses, though somewhat painful, were also igniting her desires. She unconsciously began to stroke my penis with her hand, the thick and powerful sensation igniting her desire.

“Ah... I can't take it anymore... I want more... I want my son's cock...”

Dahyun's rationality had long been thrown out the window; she was immersed in the ultimate pleasure brought by her son.

I was brought to the peak of pleasure by Dahyun's sudden actions, almost reaching climax immediately. I stopped moving, and took a deep breath to calm myself down. 

"Mom... have you finally decided to give in to my desires?" 

Dahyun lowered her head in shame, unable to meet her son's questioning gaze. "I... I don't know... I shouldn't have agreed... but I... I just couldn't control myself... Your cock is just too sexy and alluring... it's hard for me to resist..."

I was overjoyed, grabbing Dahyun and kissing her deeply on the lips. "Mom... I knew you would also be entranced by my cock... Let's start today... Let me take good care of you..." After saying this, I couldn't wait to tear off Dahyun's clothes, revealing her snow-white body. I eagerly licked and kissed the two rosy points on Dahyun's chest, then continued down, biting her lower abdomen and thighs.

“Ah... son... slow down... don't be so impatient...”

Dahyun gently pushed my shoulder, trying to stop my overly rough attack. However, I seemed completely lost in Dahyun's beautiful body, ignoring her resistance. I forcefully spread Dahyun's thighs, revealing her most secret garden.

“Mom... I can't wait any longer... I want to possess you right now...”

I pressed my cock against Dahyun's clits, preparing to insert it. Dahyun suddenly woke up and grabbed my wrist.

"Wait... I... I can't do this... this is just too wrong..."

"Mom... please... just let me have you this once... just this once... I promise I won't bring it up again in the future..."

I rubbed my penis against Dahyun's labia, trying to make her give up her last resistance.

Dahyun had already turned into a puddle under her son's onslaught, her reason no longer able to hold out. "Alright... just this once... you must never bring it up again..."

Hearing Dahyun's consent, I was overjoyed as if I had struck a treasure, I quickly spread Dahyun's thighs and thrust into her hardly.

"Ah!!" Dahyun moaned loudly, her son's huge cock penetrated directly to the deepest point, and her vagina was completely filled. "Y/N...be gentle...it's too big for me..."

"Mom...it feels so good...you're so tight inside...I'm going to move..."

I said and began to thrust hard, my thick cock tumbling inside Dahyun's body. Dahyun was knocked wildly by me, and she lost all reason for a moment. She could only instinctively follow the rhythm and move her waist to suit me.

"Hmm...ah...Junhao...so powerful...you penetrate so deeply...I'm about to be fucked by you..."

Dahyun's eyes were blurred, and she kept moaning incoherently. She had never thought that incest with her son would bring such intense pleasure as if her whole body was about to melt.

I was even more excited when I heard my mother's moans, and my movements became more and more wild.

I listened to my mother's moans, becoming even more excited, my movements growing wilder.

"Ah... Mom... it feels so good... you're so tight inside... I can't take it anymore..."

My breathing became heavier, and my pace quickened. I no longer cared about any techniques of shallow or deep thrusts, only thinking about fiercely possessing Dahyun's body.

Dahyun quickly intervened, "Y/N... slow down... if you go too fast, you'll cum quickly... we finally have this opportunity... you need to try to prolong it..."

However, how could I, who was experiencing sex for the first time, possibly hold back? I was already too deeply enchanted by Dahyun's body and just wanted to reach the climax as soon as possible. I increased the intensity of my thrusts, each one hitting deep inside Dahyun.

"Ah... Mom... I can't take it anymore... I'm going to cum..."

My cock throbbed inside Dahyun, releasing thick streams of semen that filled her vagina for the first time.

"Oh... Y/N... why did you finish so quickly..."

Dahyun helplessly watched as her son pulled out his softening member, a stream of white semen flowing from her open entrance.

"I'm sorry, Mom... I'm just too excited... It's too exciting to do this with you for the first time... I will try to keep longer next time..."

I lowered my head in shame. I originally thought I was well prepared, but I didn't expect to be conquered so easily by Dahyun's alluring body.

"It doesn't matter... This time we finally got what we wanted... You don't have to worry too much about time... We will have many opportunities in the future..."

Seeing that I was a little disappointed, Dahyun couldn't help but feel pity. She sat up, holding my cock with one hand, and wrapped her other hand around my neck and pulled me towards her.

"Good boy... don't be discouraged... we still have time... let mommy teach you now..."

Dahyun took my softened cock into her mouth and sucked it carefully. I felt a familiar feeling of pleasure return and couldn't help but let out a comfortable cry.

"Mom...your mouth feels so comfortable...I'm getting hard again..."

Dahyun glanced up at me with a look of satisfaction in her eyes. She sped up her swallowing speed, sometimes swiping the crown with the tip of her tongue.

"Hmm... um... right there... a little deeper... yes... it feels so good..."

My cock became engorged and swollen again under Dahyun's service, even thicker and more powerful than before.

"Mom...I'm going to insert it..."

I pulled out my cock from Dahyun's mouth, eagerly spread her legs and inserted it again. Dahyun's vagina was filled with my huge penis at once, and the pleasure immediately overwhelmed her.

"Ah...it's too big...Y/N...slow down..."

However, I have been blinded by desire at this moment. How can I care about slow progress? I thrust in and out widely, hitting the deepest part of Dahyun hard with every thrust.

"Mom...I finally have you again...It feels so good inside you...I want to fuck you to death...

Dahyun was fascinated by her son's almost violent offensive, but she knew that she could not let me go on like this, otherwise, I would soon end early again. So Dahyun tapped my shoulder to signal me to stop.

"Y/N... you are too impatient... we still have a long time to enjoy... now you just insert it into me like this... let mommy teach you some new tricks..."

Dahyun stretched out her hand to knead her breasts, her eyes drifting to me: "Look at my hands... caress my nipples like this... They are very sensitive... you can lick, bite and suck... but You must be gentle...otherwise it will hurt..."

I followed Dahyun's instructions and leaned down to kiss her breasts gently. I teased the pink nipples with the tip of my tongue, pursed my lips lightly, sometimes sucked and sometimes licked.

"Yes...that's it...then you have to thrust your cock inside me in small strokes...don't use too much force...this way it can last longer..."

I did as I was told, and my cock squirmed inside Dahyun like a snake, each squeeze bringing a new level of pleasure.

"Ah...Y/N...you are so good...just like this...slowly enjoy your mother's body..."

Dahyun closed her eyes and concentrated on feeling the pleasure brought by her son. My lips and tongue moved around her body, like a slippery little snake; while my cock pumped rhythmically inside her body, like a posing enchantress. The combination of the two brought her unprecedented bliss.

Dahyun felt my tongue getting farther and farther away from her nipples, as if I was exploring other parts of himself. She knew it was a good start, but it wasn't enough.

"Here... try playing with my breasts with your hands... just like what I did before... but with gentle pressure... I can get hurt easily..."

Dahyun takes my hand and guides me to move around her breasts. My warm palms gently pressed her breasts, and then used my fingers to draw circles around the nipples.

"Um...yeah...a little harder...and squeeze it between your thumb and forefinger..."

I did as I was told, and Dahyun's nipples quickly hardened in my hands. I seemed to find it very novel, caressing Dahyun's breasts in different ways, sometimes squeezing and sometimes rubbing.

"Ah...you learn so fast...it's so comfortable...now put your hands on my waist...grab my hips..."

Dahyun taught me how to grasp her ass cheeks and then ordered me to thrust in and out of her.

"Now feel free to do whatever you want... Just remember not to use too much force... Let Mom guide you for the rest..."

After I got the right to express myself freely, I was immediately excited. I kneaded Dahyun's breasts into various shapes and dug my fingers deeply into them; at the same time, I thrust deeply into Dahyun's body, and each thrust hit her deepest part.

"Mom...your body is so sexy...I want to possess you forever...never stop..."

Dahyun couldn't help but smile after hearing this. This young child finally truly understood the wonder of sex.

I attacked every inch of Dahyun's skin tirelessly, and her pleasure gradually accumulated to its peak. Suddenly, an electric feeling rose from her spine and spread throughout her body.

"Ah——! I'm about to cum...!"

Dahyun hugged my back tightly, her whole body trembling. I also felt the vibration in Dahyun's body and knew that I had brought her an unparalleled climax.

"Mom... Your insides are tightening like spasms... Your orgasm is so wonderful... I'm about to cum too..."

Dahyun immediately stopped him after hearing this: "No...Y/N...we have more new tricks to try...change your position...let mom kneel in front of you like a doggy...then you start from Come in from behind...that kind of perspective will make you feel particularly exciting..."

Dahyun turned around and kneeled with a blushing face, raising her butt high and waiting for me to enter.

"Y/N... come on... fuck mom hard... like a pussy..."

Junhao was immediately excited and penetrated Dahyun from behind with his still-hard cock.

"Ah...this perspective is so exciting...Mom, your body is so sexy...I want to fuck you..."

I thrust violently, making Dahyun's ass crack with each thrust.

Dahyun thought that the doggy-style perspective would make me more excited, but she didn’t expect that her son’s favourite thing was her buttocks. When I lay on her back and kept thrusting, Dahyun felt extremely ashamed.

"Ah...Y/N...don't slap my butt so hard...it hurts..."

Dahyun begged, but I couldn't stop at all. I galloped across the grassland like a wild horse, slamming into Dahyun's ass again and again.

"Mom...your ass is so sexy...I just like to see it swaying in front of my eyes...listening to the slapping sound is so exciting..."

My hands kept slapping Dahyun's butt, leaving a red mark. Dahyun's face turned red with embarrassment, but she had to admit that this method really made me more excited.

"Y/N...Mom knows you like this...but please be gentle...it will really hurt..."

Dahyun twisted and tried to avoid my slap but was firmly held by me again. I increased the speed, thrusting as deep as possible with each stroke, and slapped Dahyun's ass hard.

"Ahhhh——! I can't help it...you're too fierce...I can't stand it anymore...please be gentle..."

Dahyun couldn't help but scream, her sanity had been completely destroyed by my crazy behaviour. She could only let her son do whatever he wanted behind her and hoped that the storm would pass as soon as possible.

Dahyun's words only aroused my animal nature. I roared like a beast and kept thrusting behind Dahyun. Dahyun could only keep begging for mercy, but her begging became my best aphrodisiac.

"Ah... don't... you're too big... I really can't stand it anymore... please stop..."

Dahyun cried, her body shaking. I, however, acted as if I couldn't understand the human words, and instead intensified my efforts, thrusting harder and deeper into Dahyun every time.

"Mom...you are so sexy...I love the sound of your cries...you should lie down in front of me like a dog...let me fuck as the way I like..."

I said and slapped Dahyun's butt hard again, leaving a red stain. Dahyun let out a cry of pain, but she also felt an unprecedented pleasure.

"Ah... no... don't... but I feel so good... this feeling is so weird..."

Dahyun was so ashamed that she never thought that one day she would be fucked like a bitch by her son, and she felt extremely excited. I also felt the tightening and throbbing inside Dahyun, knowing that she was about to climax again.

"Ah... I'm going again... Y/N... please be gentle..."

Dahyun cried out, her body arching involuntarily. Her vagina spasmed violently, wrapping my cock tightly.

Dahyun's vagina bit down on my cock, making me immediately on the verge of ejaculation.

"Mom... Your pussy is about to pinch me off... I'm going to cum inside... Let me cum inside you... give birth to my baby..."

I roared softly as I made the final sprint. My words made Dahyun even more ashamed, but she was already blinded by sexual desire and could not think about ethical issues.

"Hmm...Y/N...come on...cum inside mom...let mom give birth to a baby for you..."

Dahyun agreed softly. She never thought that one day she would be eager to be creampied by her son, and she even agreed to give birth to a child for him. But at this moment, she just wants me to be released in her body, so that she can reach a higher level of bliss.

Hearing that my mother agreed to give birth to me, I was so excited that I finally reached the peak after dozens of frantic thrusts.

"Ahhhh——! I am cumming! All of it inside you! Make you pregnant!"

I let out a low growl of satisfaction and cummed all my seed deep into Dahyun's womb. Dahyun was also stimulated to orgasm again and again by the scalding heat. Her vagina contracted violently, tightly wrapping her son's cock, as if she wanted to squeeze out every drop of semen inside.

"Oh...god...so much...I'm really going to get pregnant..."

Dahyun said absently that she no longer cared about the consequences and now only wanted to enjoy this ultimate pleasure.

Since the accident, the relationship between Dahyun and me has become closer and closer. At first, Dahyun still had some concerns, fearing that my body would if I ejaculated too many times a day. But she soon discovered that her son's energy was too amazing.

On the first morning after that day, when Dahyun got up, she saw me standing naked in front of the bed. The giant thing under my crotch was already erect and covered with bright morning dew.

"Mom...you wake up...I want you again..."

I smiled and climbed onto the bed, spread Dahyun's thighs with ease, and thrust myself into them.

"Ah...you're here again...didn't it just end..."

Dahyun was a little helpless, but she quickly indulged in the pleasure. Although my speed was not fast, I penetrated deeply every time, and Dahyun soon had a second orgasm.

"Mom...I love you...you are my little evil...I can't get enough..."

I murmured, speeding up and thrusting inside Dahyun again.

This is a portrayal of the mother and son's life day after day. Dahyun was a little resistant at first, but was soon impressed by my love words and skills. Now as long as I am horny, Dahyun will open the door to welcome my invasion. She uses her body to teach me the secrets of sex, and I use my cock to repay Dahyun's generosity.

Sex between us takes up most of their lives. Dahyun's vagina has become my exclusive toy, waiting for my use at any time.

I soon moved into Dahyun's room to stay overnight, and we had sex all the time. When cooking in the kitchen, Dahyun would suddenly lift her skirt to expose her wet pussy, allowing me to penetrate her directly from behind; when taking a bath, Dahyun would kneel in the bathtub and give me a blow job until I couldn't help but erupt in her mouth. So far; when eating dinner, Dahyun accidentally touched my leg, I would grab Dahyun's hand and guide it to my crotch, and then push Dahyun down on the sofa; when watching TV, Dahyun would sit on my lap and move by herself, until my mood comes, we changes to the normal position. The lives of us have been completely filled with sex. No matter when and where, as long as one of us is sexually excited, the other party will cater to it.

No matter where we are, as long as one of them proposes to "fuck until mommy gets pregnant" the two of us will be particularly excited. I will also ejaculate more and thicker semen, filling Dahyun's vagina to the brim.

The tacit understanding between mother and son is also getting better and better. Dahyun knows where my most sensitive parts are, and how to stimulate me to reach climax faster; she also knows how to control her body posture and rhythm, so that she can reach multiple orgasms and prolong my ejaculation time.

Once, Dahyun deliberately rode her hips on the bed and played with my scrotum, which made me only last five minutes before exploding inside her. Another time, Dahyun adopted the method of "nine shallow and one deep", slowly guiding me to rush inside the body, allowing Junhao to enjoy the sex for an entire hour.

Dahyun has mastered these techniques to such an extent that she knows how to drive me into ecstasy and madness. Dahyun is already familiar with where my sensitive points are. As long as she wants, she can make me stay in her pussy for a long time. But seeing I struggling to cum inside her body, she would always soften her heart and let me wreak havoc in her deepest parts.

Dahyun soon became pregnant with my child as I creampied her as frequently as a stallion. Faced with this unexpected result, Dahyun was a little overwhelmed - she had to admit the fact that she and her son were incest and faced social condemnation. But just when she was hesitant, my idea once again made her indulge in physical desires.

"Mom, since you are already pregnant with my child, let's take this opportunity to play some new tricks! I can fuck you and suck your milk at the same time!"

I suggested with a smile, while untying Dahyun's clothes, burying my head on her breasts and nibbling.

"Ah...you little...you are so full of tricks..."

Dahyun hummed softly, stretched out her hand to hold my head, and took the initiative to put her breast into my mouth.

"Mommy's milk must be so sweet...I'm going to suck you dry...and keep fucking you...until our child is born..."

I said vaguely, sucking harder with my lips and tongue.

Under the temptation of my big cock, Dahyun was quickly overcome by desire. She no longer thinks about her child's future, nor does she care about the outside world's opinions. The only thing she wants now is to have intense sex with her son until she faints.

So, with a burst of rapid breathing, Dahyun held my head tightly and allowed me to explore between her breasts. I slipped my fingers into Dahyun's vagina, stirring inside, preparing for the next wild sex.

Under my strong request, Dahyun resigned from the company on the grounds of concentrating on childbirth. In fact, her purpose in doing this was just to give me more time and space to fuck his mother.

Due to the changes in hormone levels during pregnancy, Dahyun's sexual desire is stronger than before, and she is becoming more and more addicted to my big cock. Except when going to the toilet, my penis always remained inside her.

Whether in the dining room or living room or even on the balcony and bathroom, every corner of the home left traces of our intense intercourse. The gurgling juices and milky white semen mixed together, soaking most of the room.

Dahyun lay on the dining table with her butt raised high, allowing me to thrust violently from behind. Her top had been torn off, and her round breasts were exposed to the air, swaying with the impact from behind.

"Hmm... it's too deep... My boy ... you are always so rough... you're going to break mommy..."

Dahyun bit the corner of her lip, reached up to her chest with one hand to rub the erect nipples, and reached down with the other hand to rub the engorged clits.

"Mom, don't you like being fucked bad by me? You said you want our child to be filled with my big cock until he is born..."

I growled, speeding up his sprint.

My penis moved in and out of Dahyun's vagina like a tamping machine. Every time I inserted it, a large amount of nectar would flow out down the top of her thighs. Dahyun's delicate labia has long been red and swollen from being fucked, but she still tirelessly swallows my huge cock.

"Yes...let's let our baby feel...how it forms in mom's pussy...ahh...going to cum..."

Dahyun raised her head, her eyes blurred, and a wanton moan escaped from her mouth.

My movements became more and more fierce. I grabbed Dahyun's waist, pressed her against the table and thrust her hard, and every time I penetrated her to the deepest point. Dahyun's body began to convulse, and a warm juice surged out of her body, soaking my lower body.

"Ha...it's so hot...Mommy's climax...I'm almost there too ..."

I gritted my teeth, and after the last few deep thrusts, I also cummed a large amount of semen, filling Dahyun's womb.

Dahyun lay weakly on the table, her legs trembling, and the clothes underneath her were completely soaked with water and semen. I pulled out my cock which is still hard, it was covered in the mixture that belonged to both of us.

"You're so beautiful...Mom...I can never get enough of you..."

I leaned down and kissed Dahyun's sweaty back.

Dahyun chuckled, turned around and kissed me back.

"Me too...my son...you are the one who really makes me happy.”

[tthoroughfare]

crush (part 2) // abby anderson

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: i owe you a black eye and two kisses. tell me when you wanna come and get 'em. abby finally confronts her feelings in the spur of the moment, then gets scared and runs away. it all works out in the end, though.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: canon!abby x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: nsfw. nothing too crazy just some yearny sesbian lex using hands. light injury description and abby being a horrible communicator

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 2.9k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

i hope you enjoy the second part! i'm so down to write more of this so lmk if anyone wants it

abby keeps it all to herself. she enjoys having you as a friend, and reasons that it’s better not to mess it all up. just because you like her whole entire gender doesn’t mean you like her. plus, she’s not even sure about what she’s feeling. figures that if she actually wasn’t straight, she’d surely have already known by now. but then again, she didn’t know you back then. didn’t feel what she feels around you.

then, one night, you’ve been around at hers, drinking and watching a movie with manny. she’d accidentally overindulged, possibly (definitely) out of nerves. you’d had to drag the chair and beanbag over in front of the TV, you and abby both piling onto the beanbag, chair not big enough to hold the two of you.

there was still barely enough room, and you were pressed up against her. at first, you were awkwardly perched, body rigid; but then, as the film went on and you had a little more to drink, you found yourself sinking into the seat, further into her.

by the end of it, your head is comfortably on her shoulder, laughing and chatting freely — she can smell your hair, feel the heat of your body against her, and she truly thinks she might combust.

once it’s gotten late, you say you’d better be heading back to your own place. abby tipsily insists on walking you back, even though it’s really not necessary. like, at all.

you jovially chat and giggle on the way back through the stadium, and all you can remember thinking is how glad you are that you met her. how rare it is for you to know someone who you feel so connected to, who everything feels so easy with almost instantaneously.

when you get to your door, she lingers around, keeping the conversation going even after you say goodnight — like she wants something from you, wants to say something but can’t. there’s a moment where it drops quiet, and she’s just looking at you. studying your face, maintaining eye contact for probably longer than she ever has. that’s when you realize she’s automatically drifted closer.

and then, liquid courage coursing through her veins and affirmed by you leaning on her earlier, she kisses you.

it’s quick, and you don’t return it. not because you don’t want to, but out of pure shock — never in a million years would you have seen it coming. you’d fully shelved your crush on her, under the impression it was never going to happen.

before you have a real chance to react, she pulls back, cheeks tinged red.

you speak at the same time: her blurting out, "sorry, fuck"; you simply shaking your head a little, stuttering, “a-abby, i…”

a beat passes, you slightly open-mouthed, abby’s hands anxiously fiddling with themselves at her sides. immediately, she’s sober. “fuck, i-i’m sorry. that was stupid.”

“no, abby, it’s just—“ before you can finish your sentence, she mutters something inaudible and turns, beginning to stride off down the hall, feeling like a fucking idiot. of course you didn’t like her, and she’d just drunkenly ruined it all for nothing.

your call of her name, followed by a, ‘wait!’ falls on deaf ears, and she turns the corner, gone. you’re left stunned, frozen outside your door, trying to process what just happened.

you want to go after her, have her allow you to explain yourself, but decide against it. you don’t know if she really meant it, you don’t know what her reasons were for running off; you don’t know what the fuck to do. so, despite every ounce of yourself begging you not to, you simply go inside and try your best to sleep. you can’t, though, mind whirring for hours on end until you finally pass out.

the next morning, you pray you run into her. usually, you always saw her at some point, but it was like she was avoiding everywhere you might be.

you see manny in the canteen later in the day, catching up to him and asking him where she is; he just shrugs, saying that she’d picked up an extra assignment and headed out that morning. might not be back for a day or two.

you can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh, crossing your arms. you knew it was on purpose. all over a kiss. “are you fucking kidding me?”

he gives you a funny look. “you two have a fight or something? she was… quiet when she came back.”

rolling your eyes, you shake your head after a moment. basically the opposite. “no… no, we didn’t.”

“right.” he quirks an eyebrow slightly, taking a breath. “you want me to talk to her when i see her?”

you shake your head vehemently, furrowing your brow. “nah, nah, don’t. just… let me know when she gets back, please?”

he nods once, tapping the side of your arm. “you got it.”

you utter out a thanks, and with that you’re off.

you don’t want to be mad at her, but you are. you don’t know why she’s running away from you, quite literally putting her life on the line just so she doesn’t have to face you. what makes it so much worse is she didn’t even give you a chance. if she’d have just heard you out instead of storming off, there wouldn’t even be an issue in the first place.

the next morning arrives, and abby’s still not back. the whole day, you fight the urge to walk over to her apartment and knock on the door every five minutes. you know manny said a day or two, but you can’t help but anxiously await her return the moment it’s plausible.

you try to keep yourself busy with work, but all your mind does is wander back to her. thinking about what she’s doing, if she’s okay, what you’re going to say to her when she gets back. you replay the kiss over and over in your head, scrutinizing every millisecond of it. what if the reason she freaked out was that she only did it because she was drunk, immediately realized she regretted it, and that’s why she’s avoiding you?

her absence just gives you too much time to worry, conjure up every worst case scenario. by the end of it, you’re essentially convinced she doesn’t like you, that it was a mistake, and now your friendship will never be the same.

finally, around noon the day after, manny collars you in the hallway and lets you know abby’s back. you let out a half relieved, half nervous sigh, nodding and thanking him. you can’t go talk to her right away — you’re too swamped with work, on your way back from the shortest lunch break known to man, but you know the second you’ve called it a day, you’re finding her.

it’s not until almost eight that you finally get to a place where you can break off, leaning back in your chair and running your hands over your face. you pack a few items away hurriedly, heart beating in your chest as you make your way over to abby’s.

it’s not her who answers the door, though — it’s manny. you blow air out of your nose at the fact you’re seeing more of him than her at this point.

“where is she?” you question gently, as if he doesn’t already know what you want.

the corners of his mouth quirk. “guess.”

“library?”

he clicks his tongue in affirmation, and you roll your eyes fondly before telling him you’ll see him later, turning to make your way down there.

standing outside the door, you realize how nervous you are. you’ve wanted nothing more than to see abby since it happened, but now the moment’s here you can’t help but feel hesitant about all the ways the conversation could go.

after a beat of psyching yourself up, you gingerly crack the door open, spotting her on the ottoman before gently wrapping your knuckles as you peer in. “knock, knock.”

she looks up, an unreadable expression on her face.

“can i come in?”

she pauses, sitting up properly and placing her book to the side. “uh… sure.”

you smile gratefully, picking your way in and softly closing the door behind you. you make your way over, taking a seat next to her with your hands folded in your lap, avoiding eye contact. “so…”

you can see her fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt in your peripheral vision. “so…?”

looking up at her, you go to say your rehearsed spiel, then the words get caught in your throat when you notice the injuries littering her face. a couple of gashes are set into her forehead and chin, purple blossoming over her cheekbone.

“what the hell have you done to your face?” it comes out a little more frustrated than the caring tone you intend, but you are frustrated. if she’d have stayed and listened, she wouldn’t have been avoiding you, and in turn wouldn’t have gone off and gotten herself hurt. you pivot your body to face her side, knee bending to rest your left leg sideways.

“it’s not anything.”

you tut, unable to help yourself from reaching out and running your thumb tenderly over the bruising. she pulls away from your touch slightly, to which you shoot her a look. “worse than i ever get.”

“you’re sheltered.”

she says it matter-of-fact, and you know it’s true. you’ve always had it better than her, better than most, never really being required to go into the field. both your parents are still alive, a rarity nowadays, both academics. the last time you were in real danger was simply when you were being moved into the base, going from safe point A to safe point B. 

still, it stings a little.

“yeowch,” you respond as you allow your hand to drop from her skin, only half joking. “there’s no need to be mean, abby.”

she rolls her eyes, still keeping her sight trained firmly ahead. “i’m not being…” she trails off, shaking her head a little and looking down at her hands. she moves to lean forward, forearms resting on her knees.

a pause passes that feels like an eternity, until you finally will yourself to speak. your voice is soft, low. “why did you run off on me the other night?”

she gnaws at her lip, not saying anything for a moment. “can we just forget about that? it was…”

“a mistake, i know. you were… you’d had a few drinks. i know you didn’t mean anything by it.” you finish her sentence for her, and she sighs and shakes her head in annoyance at how wrong you have it.

she swallows thickly in defeat, urging the words to come. she might as well tell you; she’s already basically fucked everything up. what does she have to lose?

“that’s… not it.” her words come out quiet, and she looks at you for the first time since you walked in, hands wringing in her lap.

you automatically shuffle a tiny bit closer, her leg warm against yours. “then what is it?”

“i didn’t… it wasn’t… because i was drunk. it was because i wanted to.” she takes a deep breath, shoulders sinking. “and then… you reacted all… i don’t know. anyway… you don’t see me like that. can we just move on?”

you look at her, mouth opening and closing a little. your brow furrows. “oh my god. are you serious?”

“what?” she replies, a little defensively.

“i reacted like that because i was fucking shocked. as far as i was aware, you didn’t even like girls, never mind me, and then you just kissed me out of nowhere. i didn’t know how to react. and then, you didn’t even give me chance to say anything and just walked off, and then i don’t see you for two days,” you blurt out, floodgates opened.

it’s her turn to be speechless again, looking up at you like a deer in headlights. “so… w-what are you saying?”

you don’t even bother to answer, knowing you can show her tenfold better than you can tell. you pull her up to you, hand resting on her jaw, pressing your lips to hers with a gentle urgency. she freezes for a split second before kissing back, one hand leaning on the ottoman behind you, the other coming up to cup your cheek.

you shift further in subconsciously, right leg going over one of hers and your free arm wrapping around her neck.

“jesus christ, abby,” you mumble against her lips between adoring smooches, “i can’t believe you.”

she breathes out a chuckle. “sorry.”

you have sex for the first time that night. you invite her to stay over, not even having those expectations. you just want to be with her, want to feel close to her, wake up side by side.

but then it drops late, and your lights are on low, having spent the evening conversing on your bed with the tv droning in the background. you’re both on your sides facing each other, propped up by an elbow. and you look so pretty in the dim yellow light, she can’t help herself from leaning in and kissing you, dripping with want.

you end up on top of her, fingertips stroking over either side of her face, hers pressing into your hips. all you can hear is your own pulse banging in your head, the labored, rapid breaths the two of you let out into each other’s mouths.

you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything this much. you can feel yourself soaking your underwear, and nothing’s even happened.

abby swallows thickly, pulling back for a moment, knowing where this is all going. “you know i’ve never…” she trails off, implicating the last few words, voice husked with arousal.

you pause to look at her, lidded eyes dragging over her face, a slightly amused smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“i know,” you respond, leaning back in to mouth at the corner of hers, before kissing down to her jaw. you continue to speak against her skin, voice low. “you’ll figure it out.”

and she sure does.

you make love to each other. it’s all slow, and testing, but wanting and desperate. a lot of abby asking every two minutes if what she’s doing feels good, you guiding her and showing her how you like it. when you first flip her on top of you, tenderly taking her hair out from its braid and running your fingers through it, leading her hand under your waistband and showing her how wet you’ve gotten for her, she truly doesn’t know how the fuck she was ever, ever uncertain about her feelings.

you take your shirt off, baring yourself to her, then hers, needing to feel your skin flush against one another. her hands automatically move to make quick work of the lower half of your clothing, gaining confidence. and then you’re naked, spread out underneath her, all flushed and open mouthed, hips shifting into hers desperately — and it’s just like something takes over her.

she kisses over your chest languidly, exploring, needing to taste your skin. you gently take her wrist, moving her hand back between your legs, and your head falls back when she runs a finger through your folds. it’s a little clumsy, a little anxious, but abby’s a quick learner. she finds a rhythm, circling your clit as her mouth attaches to your nipple.

“abby, fuck…” you moan shakily, one hand tightening around her wrist, keeping her where it feels good, the other gripping lightly at her hair.

“is that okay?” she asks. she’s looking up at you reverently, desperate to impress, and the sight sends even more heat pooling in your lower belly.

you nod hungrily and your hand moves from her wrist to her waistband, voice coming out a lot more needy than you intend. “take these off.”

she obeys you without a word, and your free hand immediately goes to touch her, spreading her apart and toying with her clit, reveling in the noises it draws.

you make each other cum like that, touching each other at the same time, all needy and yearning. you’re first, abby’s nerves getting the best of her, you unable to help yourself. it all builds and builds until it hits you hard, breathy, high pitched moans and whines of her name tumbling out against her shoulder. hearing you, seeing you like that sends her absolutely reeling, and it’s not long until she’s there too. you pull her face level to yours with your free hand, threading your fingers through her hair, needing to look at her as she cums.

she looks so pretty, eyes screwed shut and brows drawn, parted lips rosy as she pants her way through her orgasm, unable to help the string of mmphs and low, strangled moans that escape her.

you work her through it, slowing your movements gradually, stroking at her face as she comes down. it’s quiet for a moment, just the sounds of the forgotten movie across the room and both of you attempting to regain your breathing.

“okay?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

she nods, eyes still closed, tongue darting out to wet her lips. then, her mouth twitches, corners forming a small smile. “yeah. fuck.”

you mirror her, a tiny smile of your own tugging at your lips. “good.”

kissing her nose lightly, you shift your hand away from her pussy and pop your messy fingers in your mouth, cleaning her off you, relishing in her taste.

she watches through hazy eyes, committing the sight to memory.

yeah. she’s never looking back.

[sapphiresaphics]

Here’s the thing. Arcane season 2 was finished being written back in 2020. It was completed before the first season of Arcane even aired on Netflix in the first place. Before they even knew if it was going to be a hit or not. Before any of the fans had hot takes about the characters.

Which means that all of these “new subplots” (such as the black rose) weren’t just added in on a whim. They have an intentional purpose in the story they’re trying to tell.

It also means that the pacing was always going to increase and become faster as the two seasons went on.

I think a lot of fans are coming at this show from the perspective of a lot of live action shows where the writers see how fans respond to certain things so they add them into the story or focus on fan favorites to grab your attention and keep you engaged. And live action shows can do this because they’re filmed relatively close to when the series airs and so they’re aware of what the reactions are on social media (for good or ill).

But this is animation. Very TIME CONSUMING animation at that. It took 4 years to finish animating the 9 episodes of Season 2. If you include the 6 years of development and production of Season 1, that’s almost a full DECADE of working on this show.

My point is that they literally (and logistically) can’t respond to fan input and make changes in the show based on the way it was received on social media. Like it or not, these specific characters beats and storylines were always the plan from the start.

This is a long winded way of trying to say… if you have problems with the way certain characters are behaving, or certain plot points feeling rushed, or feel overwhelmed by the number of added subplots that need to get resolved before the end of the show… I strongly suggest rather than saying the writing is “bad” or that the writers “don’t know what they’re doing” or just complain about anything really… I suggest you take a step back and ask yourself “why are these the stories and actions they chose for this 2 season arc?”

I think that’s a far more productive thing to do than to go online and whine about things you didn’t like. I find it’s better to try and understand WHY they chose to do these things rather than write them off. More often than not when you look into the why, or try to come up with reasons why the writers would take certain characters down the paths they do, you end up coming out appreciating the media more. Even if you still don’t were with their narrative choices, learning and understanding the WHY is far more rewarding I think.

I’ll give you an example of something I don’t like, but that I understand why. Isha. I don’t like that Isha was introduced and then killed off in the latest episode. If I were to look at it just from a surface level reading, it seems pointless to add this cute mute kid character only to take her away a few episodes later. But NARRATIVELY she’s extraordinarily important. She is what Jinx needed to become more empathetic to her sister and reach out to fix their family. She helps push Jinx into the role of Vander for season 2. And her heroically framed sacrifice is probably going to be the push Jinx needs to stop trying to commit suicide.

Would I have liked to see more of her and Jinx’s relationship? Yes. Would I liked to have learned more about where she came from and why she’s mute? Yes. But at the end of the day, this is not a show about Isha. Isha is a narrative device to help forward the character development of Jinx. And so, while I do not like that she sacrificed herself… I understand it. And that understanding helps me appreciate the writing and the level of depth the writers are willing to go to push their characters around where they need to be by the end of the series.

At the end of the day, Arcane is just another show on Netflix. It is not beyond criticism. There are a lot of legitimate criticisms you can have against the show. But I’ve found that recently the number of bad takes and people refusing to engage with the narrative has resulted in a bit of a backlash against the show and I do not think that’s ultimately very productive. Please… if you’re going to criticize the show, please try to do better than just write off anything you don’t like as “the writers just suck” or “they changed X character for no reason!”

Because I guarantee you, there IS a reason for everything in this show. No matter how small and trivial it might be, this show was put together with love and an extraordinary attention to detail. There are reasons for why characters do and say the things they say. The writers often make these into intentional parallels, foreshadowing, and callbacks.

Please… take the time to actually stop and dissect what you see. Even something upsets you. I implore you… try to understand why. Try to understand what the writers are saying. Try to understand how certain plot points and events could have a bearing on different characters.

Please just…. Try?

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: No one is crazy about him atm, me included, so this is strictly for my readers and my readers only. I don’t condone his behavior at all -Just let me finish out this fic please. Don’t come for me. I’m only a girl with a google doc whose spent hours upon hours and days on end on this fic

Chapter 10 - So Different | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.4k

Trent laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind a storm he couldn’t quiet. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sound jolting him momentarily out of his haze. Jack’s name lit up the screen, but Trent didn’t move to answer it. He couldn’t. The guilt was suffocating. Every time Jack called, every time Trent saw his name flash across his phone, it felt like a knife twisting deeper into his chest. He couldn’t face him. Couldn’t lie to him. Couldn’t explain to his best friend that the reason he’d been distant wasn’t some random funk but the unbearable heartbreak of losing you. You weren’t just Jack’s sister. He was coming to realize, you were his person, his peace, the one he went to when everything else felt like too much. And now, you were gone, and Trent didn’t know how to function without you. Since that night, he’d gone completely off the grid. He showed up for training, went through the motions, and then went straight home. He couldn’t bring himself to see anyone, to pretend he was okay when he wasn’t. His chest ached constantly, a dull, throbbing pain that he didn’t know how to soothe. He thought about you constantly. The way you’d cried, the way your voice broke. The look in your eyes. It haunted him. He replayed it over and over, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Was it the secrecy? The guilt? The fear of what Jack and the others would think?

You hadn’t said, ‘Why don’t we just tell them?’ And so, he hadn’t. He’d been too afraid, too consumed by the what-ifs. But now, lying there in the quiet of his room, he wondered if things could have been different if he’d just had the courage to say, I love her. I don’t care what anyone thinks. His phone buzzed again, and he turned his head to look at it. Jack was calling again, and for a fleeting moment, Trent considered answering. But what would he say? How could he explain that he was grieving the loss of you, the girl he was never supposed to fall for but couldn’t help loving? He turned his face into the pillow, the tears coming unbidden. He missed you so much it hurt. He missed your laugh, your smile, the way you made him feel like the best version of himself. He missed the way you fit perfectly in his arms, the way your lips felt against his. He missed you. But he couldn’t have you. He’d made his choice that night, torn between his desire to console you, to pull you into his arms and make you stop crying, and the guilt and fear of Jack finding out. He’d walked away, and now, he was paying the price. Trent closed his eyes, his chest tightening with the weight of it all. He felt like he was losing both of you—you and Jack. He couldn’t talk to his best friend about it, couldn’t tell him the truth, couldn’t even pick up the phone. He was trapped in his own guilt and heartbreak, unable to see a way out. Day in and day out, he lay there, caught in a trance, replaying every moment, every word, every touch. He didn’t know how to move forward without you, didn’t know if he even wanted to. All he knew was that he’d never felt this way before, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would again.

You weren’t fairing all that well yourself. You curled up on your bed, muffling your sobs into the pillow, hoping the sound wouldn’t carry through the walls. But Jack had already noticed. He’d been noticing for days—the way you avoided him, the lack of your usual energy, the way your eyes always looked on the verge of tears. Jack wasn’t one to pry, but this time, he couldn’t stay silent. You heard the knock at your door, a quiet but firm tap, tap, tap.

“Y/N?” Jack’s voice was soft, cautious. “Can I come in?” You froze, wiping your face quickly, though you knew it was pointless.

“Yeah,” you croaked, your voice betraying you. The door creaked open, and Jack stepped inside. His expression shifted instantly when he saw you, eyes red and swollen, clutching your pillow like a lifeline. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, taking it in.

“Come here, what’s gotten into you?” he asked finally, his voice gentle as he opened his arms. You hesitated, guilt twisting in your stomach, but the look on his face broke you. Slowly, you got up and walked into his embrace. The moment his arms wrapped around you, the tears came again, harder this time, like a dam breaking.Jack held you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing slow circles on your back. “Hey, you’re okay,” he murmured. “Just breathe for me, yeah?” You tried to, but the sobs kept coming. After a long moment, Jack pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he searched your face. “What’s going on, Y/N? Talk to me. Who’s got ya like this? Is fucking Josh again?” The question hit you like a truck. Who. Not what. He already knew this wasn’t about work or anything trivial. He knew it was someone. You shook your head, pulling away from his touch, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively. 

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled. “I’m fine. Really.” Jack’s brows furrowed, his concern deepening. 

“Y/N, don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. I’m your brother. Just… tell me who it is, and I’ll sort them out.” He cooed with a sympathetic smik. You laughed weakly through the tears, the irony of his words hitting you. If only he knew.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Jack stepped closer, his hands gentle on your arms. 

“Why not? You know I’d do anything for you, right? Just tell me, and we’ll fix it together.” You shook your head more forcefully this time, the guilt washing over you in waves. You couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him. Not when it was Trent. Not when it was his best friend. Not when it would ruin everything. Not when you had betrayed him. 

“I just can’t, Jack,” you said once over, your voice cracking as fresh tears streamed down your face. “I’ve already lost so much over this. You’ll be mad and I can’t lose you too.” Jack’s face softened, but he still looked confused, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle without all the pieces. 

“Y/N, you’re not gonna lose me,” he said firmly. “You can tell me anything, you know that.” But you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk it. Jack was all you had left, and if he knew the truth, you weren’t sure you’d survive the fallout.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, stepping back toward the bed. “I just… I need to figure this out on my own.” Jack looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he sighed and nodded, his hands falling to his sides. 

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “But if you change your mind, I’m here, alright? Always.” You nodded, biting your lip to keep from breaking down again. When he finally left the room, closing the door behind him, the silence felt deafening. You sank back onto the bed, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. You made a decision then. You couldn’t keep doing this—to yourself, to Trent, to Jack. The guilt was eating you alive, and the secrecy was tearing everything apart. It was time to end it. For good.

The week of silence was unbearable. Days stretched into nights, with every moment consumed by guilt, longing, and the reality of what you had both built under Jack’s unsuspecting gaze. For so long, you’d tried to ignore the weight of it all, but now the cracks were too wide, the guilt too heavy. You couldn’t breathe. When you finally stood on Trent’s doorstep, your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. You hadn’t texted or called; you’d just shown up, your emotions too raw for words. Trent opened the door, his brows furrowing in surprise when he saw you standing there. His hair was still damp from a shower, his face soft and unguarded. 

“Y/N?” he said, his voice laced with concern. “What are you—”

“We can’t do it anymore,” you interrupted, your voice trembling, already on the verge of tears. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.” The words hit him like a blow to the chest. For a moment, he didn’t move, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“Just..” He couldn’t even talk before he instinctively reached for you, pulling you into his arms. You collapsed against him, the weight of your words crashing down as sobs racked your body. His strong arms held you tightly, his hand cradling the back of your head as if he could shield you from the pain you were feeling. “Don’t say that,” he murmured into your hair, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t say that.” But you couldn’t stop. 

“I can’t keep lying to Jack,” you whispered against his chest, your tears soaking through his shirt. “I can’t keep lying to myself. This… this isn’t right, T. It’s not right.” Desperation flickered in his eyes as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. 

“I know,” he admitted softly, his voice filled with sorrow. “I know it’s not fair to you. Or to him. But…” He trailed off, his words faltering under the weight of his emotions. The silence between you was heavy, the tension palpable. And then, as if drawn together by some unseen force, his lips found yours. The kiss was desperate, full of unspoken words and heartbreak. You clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, your fingers tangling in his hair as you poured everything you couldn’t say into that moment. Before you knew it, the two of you were in his room, tangled in his sheets, your bodies pressed together as if trying to erase the distance that had grown between you. It wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, a last-ditch effort to hold onto something slipping away. When it was over, the silence returned, heavier than before. You lay in his arms, your cheek pressed against his chest as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. He pressed a kiss to your hair, a soft hum escaping him. The tenderness in that simple gesture broke something inside you. You sniffled, tears slipping down your cheeks once more. 

“This has to be it,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Okay?” You whimpered.

“Okay,” he replied, his voice low and full of sadness. He tightened his hold on you, his lips brushing against your temple. “But Y/N… can you just stay though? Just for tonight?”  He meekly asked you, his tone desperate. Your breath hitched as his words hit you. 

“Trent…” You cautioned him already struggling to will your body away from his.

“I didn’t know it’d be our last night,” he continued, his voice trembling. “And I just… I just want to remember it right.” You nodded silently, your tears soaking into his skin. You didn’t have the strength to say no, not when he held you like that, not when you could feel his heart breaking beneath your hand.

“This isn’t right,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible. But Trent didn’t respond. He couldn’t. All he could do was hold you tighter, his silence speaking volumes. The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of goodbye hanging heavy in the air. You knew this was the end, but for now, in this fleeting moment, you allowed yourselves to pretend that it wasn’t.

The morning was heavy with unspoken words as you pulled your clothes on, trying to keep your composure. The air between you and Trent was thick, weighted with everything that had gone wrong and everything that still felt so heartbreakingly right. As you made your way toward the door, Trent followed, his steps slow and hesitant, like he was trying to draw out the moment. 

“Y/N, Stay,” he said quietly, his voice cracking just enough to break your resolve. “We can figure this out. Please.” You paused, your hand resting on the doorknob, your back turned to him. Tears threatened to spill again, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to cry anymore. You didn’t want to feel this ache that had embedded itself so deeply into your chest.

“Please don’t make this harder,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned to face him. The look on his face nearly destroyed you—his eyes filled with a mix of desperation and heartbreak, his hands hanging helplessly at his sides.

“I’m not trying to make it harder,” he said, taking a step closer. “I just—this, us—it means something to me. You mean something to me. I can’t…” His voice faltered, and he exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. “I can’t let you go like this.” You shook your head, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

“You’re saying that because we’re behind closed doors, T… but that’s not the problem.” He shut his eyes, his jaw tightening as if the words physically hurt him. You knew he wanted to say something, to fight back, to convince you that it didn’t matter where you were, as long as you were together. But deep down, he knew you were right. As you reached for your bag, something poked you in the side, reminding you of what you’d brought with you. A lump formed in your throat as you pulled it out, the tattered book of poems looking smaller in your hands than it had when you first tucked it away.

“I forgot…” you started, your voice barely audible. “I want you to have this.” You extended the book toward him, and he hesitated for a moment before taking it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch sent a jolt through your body, one final reminder of what you were about to lose. “I’m sorry for what I said the other night,” you said, your voice breaking as fresh tears began to blur your vision. “You are the furthest thing from nothing to me. You are everything, in fact. You are it all, T.” His hands shook slightly as he took the book. 

“Please don’t do this,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. When he looked up at you, his eyes were filled with a pain so raw it made your chest tighten. “Don’t go. I’m begging you.” You couldn’t stop the tears now, and they fell freely as you took a step back, creating the distance you knew you needed to survive this. 

“I have to,” you choked out. His hand clenched around the book, holding it close to his chest like it was the only piece of you he’d have left.  Trent’s fingers trembled as he turned the fragile pages of the book, the faint scent of aged paper filling the air. It didn’t take long until he started to notice the black ink penned in a handwriting he’d only seen a number of times in birthday cards. His head was almost hurting because he couldn’t place it. It wasn’t yours. His eyes scanned the handwritten notes in the margins, each word was a delicate imprint of your mum’s love and care, left behind like breadcrumbs leading back to her. The book flopped open on it’s own by its worn seam to a page you’d pressed the flower he’d given you the other week. His heart hurt more than his head at that moment. And then he saw it—why you’d marked the page - a line your mum had circled and underlined, her handwriting curling beside it with a note that seemed to reach through time:

'Even though we never said it to each other - We knew'

'Always reminds me of you and TAA—tell him one day, okay?'

His breath caught, his chest tightening as though the air had been stolen from the room. His grip on the book wavered, his fingers brushing against the daisy you had carefully pressed between the pages, a small but profound reminder of the park, of the simple, unguarded moments you shared. The lump in his throat was unbearable as he felt the weight of everything—the love, the grief, the guilt—all crashing down at once. 

“I know this didn’t work, but…” You stood there, knowing he’d read it, barely holding it together, your voice breaking as you forced yourself to speak. 

“Stop,” Trent cut you off, his voice shaky but insistent, the emotion barely contained. His movements were deliberate as he placed the book down on the counter, as if it were sacred. Then, with no hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, like letting go would shatter him completely. “We’re not doing this,” he murmured against your hair, his voice breaking. “We’re not nothing. I know we’re not. You know we’re not… She knew we weren’t. Y/N please.” The conviction in his words only made the ache in your chest swell. You buried your face in his chest, tears spilling freely now, soaking into his shirt. 

“I’m so scared, Trent,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You felt like in a way you’d disappoint your mum in giving up this but it was terrifying to love him. He was no longer a school boy, he was larger than life. “I’m so scared I’m just the girl of the season to you. That I’ll lose you, Jack, everyone. I can’t do this again. I can’t…” You confessed amidst your tears. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, his hands cupping the back of your neck as he pulled you even closer. 

“You’re not,” he whispered fiercely, the words shaking with emotion. “You’re not the girl of the season. You’ve been the girl of every season. My only season. You’ve been every single one.” His words cracked something deep inside you, but they didn’t erase the fear. You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, your tears making the world blur around you. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice breaking on every syllable.  “I don’t know how to keep everyone happy and not lose you at the same time. I feel like I’m losing everything.” His hands came to rest on either side of your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as his forehead gently touched yours. His voice softened, but it carried an unshakable strength. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a lifeline. “We don’t have to have all the answers now. Just stay with me, baby. We can sort this.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as you shook your head, the weight of the situation suffocating you. 

“This isn’t right,” you whimpered, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “None of this is right.”

“Stay,” he begged softly, his voice raw and unguarded. “Please don’t leave me like this.” You sobbed into his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing anchoring you in the storm of your emotions. His grip on you tightened, his own tears threatening to spill as he pressed a desperate kiss to your hair. You nodded through your sobs, too broken to speak, your hands clutching at him like he was your last tether to hope. But even as you let yourself sink into the safety of his arms, the doubts lingered, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of you. The unsaid love was there, undeniable and unrelenting, but so was the pain, and neither of you knew how to make it stop. Trent looked at the book carefully, his fingers trembling as he reached towards it with one hand. a centimeter of the daisy still delicately pressed inside sticking out. His eyes lingered on it for a moment before turning to you, his gaze steady despite the rawness between you both. “Keep this,” he said, his voice soft but resolute as he picked it up. “She left more in there than an annotation about me.” He smiled sympathetically at you. He’d glanced at the pages before his name appeared, and although it was brief he understood your mum purposefully left this book for you. It was a way for her to communicate with you, to support you through situations you might face after she was gone. “You keep all the other stuff. I don’t need any more if I know she was on board because I’m not going anywhere… that’s all I needed to know.” His certainty was like a balm against the ache in your chest, but the weight of everything still loomed heavy in your mind. You shook your head slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“But if this doesn’t work… T, I can’t” you started, the fear in your words palpable. Trent stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cradle your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, catching a stray tear. 

“Then I’ll still be here,” he told you firmly, his voice tinged with quiet determination. “I just told you. I'm not leaving.” His words wrapped around your heart, pulling at every fragile piece of you. 

“But how can you be so sure?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you searched his eyes for answers. “I didn’t mean for this to be a guilt trip. I just wanted you to know…” You babbled as your tears ran down your cheeks. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice steady and calm. 

“It’s not… And… I know… because you’re it for me. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We’ll try, yeah?” You nodded sheepishly, your heart warring with your fears, but his certainty felt like a light in the darkness. “Gonna give it a try, hmm?” he asked softly, his lips ghosting over your forehead in a tender kiss. This time, your nod was more sure, a small smile breaking through the tears. 

“Okay,” you murmured. And in that moment, with the weight of the book in his hands and the promise hanging between you, it felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward.

The next morning, the doorbell rang, pulling you out of your thoughts. Jack had already left for work, leaving you to shuffle to the door, still in your pajamas. You opened it to find not one but four massive flower arrangements towering in front of you. You blinked, confused, as the delivery man smiled politely and gestured for you to sign.

“Someone really likes you,” he remarked, handing you a small card after you’d awkwardly squeezed the arrangements inside. The arrangements were stunning—each one so different. One was a soft white and cream, delicate and elegant. Another burned bright with orangey-red hues, vibrant and warm. The third was lush with deep greens, earthy and grounding, and the last shimmered in an unexpected blue, rare and calming. You stood there for a moment, staring at the kaleidoscope of colors, trying to piece it together. Then you opened the card.

'To the girl I’ve let wait too many seasons—will you please let me take you out for a proper date?'

You laughed through your tears, the emotions of the past weeks bubbling over at once. The note continued, listing specific details about when and where he wanted to meet you, but you could barely read through the happy blur in your eyes. It was so him, so thoughtful, and yet so immediate—like he couldn’t stand another second without making his words from the night before a reality. The concept of girl of the season really was about his football season but the fact that flowers went beyond that. It was one for each season of the year; spring, summer, autumn, and winter. All there to signify, you were more than just a football season to him and he wanted you to know that. You held the card to your chest, tears still slipping down your cheeks as giggles broke through. He had acted quickly, proving he meant every word, every promise. Trent was asking, not waiting. Not hiding. This time, he was yours, out loud, in full color. And all you could think was… finally.

When Trent typed your address into his phone to send the delivery, his chest tightened with a familiar pang of guilt. It wasn’t just your address—it was Jack’s too. That nagging feeling of betrayal washed over him as his thumb hovered above the screen, memories from years ago creeping back unbidden. He could still hear Jack’s voice, clear as day, as if it were happening all over again. They were in Jack’s room, sprawled out after school, the usual banter bouncing around the group. A newer guy to their circle, loud and brash, had just moved to town and had made an offhand remark about you after seeing a picture on Jack’s phone.

“Is this your sister, mate? Fuck off! She’s well fit,” the guy had said, smirking. It wasn’t even a serious comment, but Jack’s reaction was immediate and sharp.

“Oi, Off-limits,” Jack had snapped, his tone firm and brooking no argument. He glanced around the room then, making sure everyone understood. “If that wasn’t already clear, no one moves to Y/N.” There was a beat of awkward silence before Noah, always the one to push a joke too far, broke it. 

“Come on, mate! What if she likes us? Girls move to me! What if she moves to me, huh?” He teased. Jack didn’t even crack a smile. 

“Nah. If she has feelings for ya, too bad.” Trent had sat quietly on the edge of the bed, his face carefully neutral, but the way Jack’s eyes flickered toward him didn’t go unnoticed. It was subtle, just a moment, but it lingered. Jack’s expression softened briefly before he looked away.

“Maybe…” Jack muttered under his breath, something unsaid hanging heavy in the room. But then, just as quickly, he turned back to Noah, snapping back into his usual banter. “But she’s not interested in you, mate. You’re a charity case.” The rest of the room burst into laughter, and the moment was gone, buried under their usual teasing. But Trent hadn’t laughed. He had felt something then, a pang of disappointment mixed with the quiet realization that Jack knew. Maybe Jack didn’t know the extent of it, but he’d always known there was something unspoken between you and Trent. And now here Trent was, years later, actively crossing the line Jack had drawn so clearly. He wasn’t a clueless teenager anymore, and the weight of what he was doing—and who he was risking—felt heavier than ever. But then his thoughts shifted to you. The way you’d looked at him the night before, your voice shaking as you’d told him he was everything, even when you thought you were losing him. That was enough to push the guilt aside, if only for a moment.

You called Layla that morning from your bedroom, your voice still thick with emotion but tinged with something lighter-relief, excitement, maybe even disbelief.

"When I tell you I was sobbing," you started, gripping the the edge of your dresser as you tried to steady your voice. "I was a mess, Layla. But then —he literally sent me flowers today. Like four arrangements. Four!" You explained. Layla didn't even pause before diving in, her tone pitched halfway between glee and exasperation.

"Finally! I've been screaming 'about time' since the first time you finally hooked up! That man's been fucking you for ages and he's just now asking you on a date?" She fell into giggles. You couldn't help but laugh, your cheeks heating even as you rolled your eyes.

"Layla! Can we not put it like that?" You tried to fight back a laugh.

"But I'm right!" she shot back. "It's been this whole dramatic saga of hiding and sneaking and you ending up crying at all hours because he's scared. And finally, he's putting it out there. I'm sorry, but I'm thrilled." You sighed, glancing at the arrangements. 

"It feels... so different this time. He said he wants to do it right. He called me the girl of every season." Your voice cracked on the last few words, the weight of everything hitting you all over again. Layla softened instantly. 

"Oh, babe. That's what you've wanted to hear, yeah? That he's sure. That he's not just scared of what Jack and the boys think but ready to fight for you." She cooed. You nodded even though she couldn't see you, tears pooling in your eyes. 

"It's just...so much. I feel like I'm still holding my breath. Like, what if it's too good to be true?" You asked her sheepishly. 

"Then let him prove it's not," Layla said firmly. "You've already been through the worst of it. Let him show you he's ready for the best of it." You sniffled, wiping at your eyes. 

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but...l think he is. Is that bad?” You asked her hesitantly hoping she’d almost lie to you if she felt otherwise. But Layla answered honestly, always. 

"No. This is good, Y/N, I can feel it," she said. "I''m so happy for you. Now we just let him sweep you off your feet properly. And wear something hot. You deserve to make him sweat." She told you very matter of fact and your mind began to work in overdrive after that imagining what you possibly had in your wardrobe that was fit for the occasion of all occasions; your first proper date with your brother’s best friend.

When the evening came, getting ready for the date felt surreal. You’d spent so long imagining this moment, and now that it was happening, the weight of it settled over you like a heavy, fluttering blanket. The mirror reflected your carefully chosen outfit, but your nerves made you question everything—was it too much? Not enough? Layla’s voice echoed in your head: Make him sweat. When the doorbell rang, your heart lurched. Trent was at your house. For a date. You opened the door with a shy smile, and Trent’s reaction stole whatever breath you had left. 

Trent had stepped out of the car, his heart already thudding in his chest as he approached the front door. For a split second, he hesitated, the weight of everything—Jack, the years of denying his feelings, the risks—hitting him all at once. This was your house, but it was also Jack’s house, and the lines between those roles had always blurred in his mind. You weren’t supposed to be this person for him. You weren’t supposed to be his. But when the door opened, and you stepped out to greet him, all of that disappeared. Everything—Jack, the past, the unspoken boundaries—faded into nothing. All that was left was you. And you were breathtaking. He blinked, stunned, as his eyes drank you in. You were wearing a black Saint Laurent mini dress that clung to your figure in all the right ways, the fabric draping elegantly across your body. The deep V neckline hinted at so much but revealed just enough to keep it tasteful, leaving him completely undone. The simplicity of the dress only heightened how stunning you looked, and Trent couldn’t believe this was the same girl he used to see in oversized jumpers and trainers, lounging on Jack’s sofa. You didn’t look like Jack’s sister anymore. You didn’t even look like the girl he’d been secretly pining for all this time. You looked like his.

“Wow,” he finally managed, his voice low and a little hoarse. He shook his head, clearly taken aback as his eyes swept over you slowly. He couldn’t stop staring, his gaze trailing from your perfectly styled hair down to the way the dress skimmed your thighs, then back up to meet your eyes. “You look…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly as if trying to find the right words.  He didn’t even finish the thought, just stepped closer and brushed a hand down your arm as if grounding himself.

“I look…?” Your nerves melted a little at his touch, and you dared to tease him. He smiled, leaning in to kiss your temple. 

“You look perfect. Unreal…”  He cooed. A shy smile crept across your lips as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, feeling the intensity of his gaze. Trent took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he reached for you.

 “You don’t look like…” He stopped himself, realizing how ridiculous it would sound to say, you don’t look like Jack’s sister right now. Instead, he smiled, his eyes softening as he leaned in closer. “You look like you. But more. If that makes sense.” Your smile widened, your cheeks flushing. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased, trying to ease the tension that was crackling between you. But Trent didn’t laugh. He couldn’t. His eyes were too busy tracing the way the soft lighting from the porch framed your face, making your features glow. You weren’t just beautiful—you were magnetic. “Let’s go,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something more than affection—something closer to awe. 

“Hold my hand.” His words were so simple, but the warmth in them settled your nerves as you slipped your hand into his. His fingers gently brushing yours before intertwining, his grip reassuring. He gently tugged on your hand, pulling you toward him as he bent down to kiss your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment.  And as he led you to the car, his heart racing and his mind whirling, all Trent could think was how wrong he’d been to ever believe you were off limits. You weren’t just something he wanted anymore. You were something he couldn’t imagine letting go. As you walked toward the car waiting outside, the weight of the situation loomed again. You hesitated, beginning to voice your lingering fear. Your anxiety if you should even be holding his hand here in front of the house skyrocketing. 

“Are you…?” You began to speak but Trent didn’t let you finish. 

“Yeah, I’m really sure.” His voice was steady, his gaze unwavering as he glanced down at you. He traced his thumb along the back of your hand, his certainty radiating through his touch. The tension in your chest loosened, and you let out a soft hum of approval. 

“Okay.” You leaned in, kissing his shoulder as the two of you reached the car. Trent smiled down at you, opening the door with care. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something real.

The restaurant’s ambiance was a perfect blend of understated elegance and intimacy. The flickering candlelight reflected off the polished wood of your table, casting soft shadows that danced across Trent’s face. The low hum of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter from other diners barely registered; your world felt narrowed to the man sitting across from you. Trent was watching you intently, his eyes never straying far from yours. It was as though he was memorizing every detail, every expression, and every shift in your mood. You took a sip of your wine, savoring the moment, but before you could set your glass down, Trent leaned forward. His thumb gently brushed the corner of your mouth, catching a droplet of the deep red, his touch light but deliberate.

“Got you,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. His thumb lingered for a few seconds longer. You blinked, caught off guard by the tender gesture. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible as your cheeks heated. You ducked your head slightly, shy under his steady gaze. But Trent wasn’t about to let you retreat into yourself. He leaned across the table a little more, his hand moved to hold for your chin. His fingers tilted your face toward him, his touch as soft as his voice. 

“Look at me, baby,” he said gently, and when you lifted your eyes to meet his, he gave you a small, reassuring smile. Then, before you could overthink it, he closed the gap between you. His lips brushed against yours in a kiss so light it felt like a question, as if he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in, your heart racing as the kiss deepened for just a moment before you pulled back with a nervous giggle.

“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip. “That was… woah, you had me…. That was a lot...” You laughed shaking your head. You weren’t sure what planet you were on. He had pulled you into this world tonight that felt so surreal. He’d never done that to you before, kissed you in public, flirted with you at right while you sat across a table from him, it was all so confusing, and yet, he looked calm as ever. His movements were slow and deliberate. But then Trent chuckled, leaning back in his seat, but his hand stayed on yours, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. 

“Was it now?” he teased, his grin playful. You smirked, trying to compose yourself. 

“How many girls have you done that to?” you asked, your tone light but with a touch of curiosity beneath the joke. Trent raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. 

“What kind of question is that?” He asked you. His smile now sickened handsome and taunting.

“An important one,” you shot back, your grin widening. He held up his hand, palm out like he was swearing an oath. 

“Hand on heart, I have never wiped someone’s face. Not like that.” He told you. You narrowed your eyes at him, skeptical.

“Sure,” you drawled, the sarcasm dripping from your tone.

“I swear,” he said, leaning forward with a laugh. “You can ask anyone. I’ve never done that before.” You shook your head, trying to hide the way his words made your heart flutter. 

“Right,” you muttered, looking down at your plate to avoid his gaze. The restaurant around you felt like a cocoon. The warm lighting and muted colors created a sense of privacy, even though you knew other people were dining nearby. It was hard to tell if his choice in restaurants that felt hidden was intentional or if it was just your perception, but either way, it was okay. The world outside might as well not exist you were so transfixed on him tonight. You had recently got to spend a lot of time with Trent but really getting his undivided attention at a dinner had your head spinning. And apparently that internal chaos was something he could feel. 

“Stop overthinking,” Trent said suddenly, his voice breaking through your thoughts. You looked up at him, startled. 

“I’m not.” You smiled softly trying to just act normal but you couldn’t. 

“You are.” He smirked, his fingers sliding across the table to intertwine with yours. “I can see it all over your face.” You sighed, letting your thumb trace over his hand in return.

 “Maybe I am,” you admitted. “This just… it feels surreal.”

“Surreal good or surreal bad?” he asked, his tone soft but his expression serious.

“Surreal good,” you said quickly, meeting his eyes. “Definitely good.” He smiled at that, the kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat.

 “Good,” he said simply, squeezing your hand. The rest of the evening unfolded in a blur of easy conversation and quiet laughter. Trent kept finding ways to touch you—his hand brushing against yours, his knee bumping yours under the table, his fingers trailing lightly over your wrist when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Each touch felt deliberate, like he was grounding himself in the moment. By the time dessert arrived, you’d forgotten about everything outside of this little bubble you’d created together. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t worried about what came next. You were just… happy.

Just as the waiter placed dessert on the table, your eyes drifted across the restaurant, scanning the room out of habit. That’s when you saw him—a player from Manchester United, someone you vaguely recognized. It took a moment to place him, but when you did, your stomach dropped. He wasn’t just another footballer. He was someone who was friends with Josh. And worse, he also knew Trent. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the table as a wave of anxiety crashed over you. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but it didn’t matter. The possibility that he might put two and two together made your throat tighten. Your heart raced as your mind spun through a dozen worst-case scenarios.

“Everything okay?” Trent’s voice cut through the fog. He’d been reaching for his fork, but now his full attention was on you, concern flickering in his eyes. You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

 “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to sound casual. Trent didn’t buy it. His hand reached across the table, covering yours. 

“What’s wrong, baby. Is this not what you wanted?” He asked. You weren’t sure if he meant the dessert you just ordered or tonight in general, and while you thought you wanted both before now… you weren’t sure.  You hesitated, glancing back toward the other player, who was now laughing with his group, blissfully unaware of your presence. 

“It’s nothing,” you said, your voice quieter.

“Y/N,” Trent said firmly, his hand squeezing yours. “Talk to me.” You looked back at him, his steady gaze grounding you for a moment, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift.

“Someone we know is here..” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Who?” Trent’s brows furrowed, his body tensing slightly as his protective instincts kicked in.

“Some lad on Man United… I think you know him,” you said, your eyes darting nervously toward the man again. “But he knows Josh… and he knows you.” Trent’s jaw tightened, and his grip on your hand shifted, his thumb stroking over your knuckles in a soothing motion.

 “Okay,” he said slowly. “And?”

“And he might recognize me,” you blurted out. “Us. Together.” Trent leaned back slightly, his expression softening as he pieced together your anxiety. 

“You’re worried about people finding out.” He cooed softly empathizing with your fear.  This was a big change to go from stolen kisses in the kitchen to sitting out in public together. You nodded, your stomach twisting. 

“This whole night has been amazing, but… I don’t know if I’m ready for this. For being public. For the questions, the stares, the judgment. I mean, what if Jack—” you began to babble, faster more panicked.

“Stop, pretty girl.” Trent interrupted gently but firmly. “Breathe for a second.” You took a shaky breath, but your chest still felt tight. “Look at me,” he said, his tone steady. When your eyes met his, he leaned forward, his expression open and earnest. “I get it. I do. This is… a lot. And if you’re not ready, we can figure it out. But right now, it’s just us. No one else matters.” He told you in a tone that Trent reserved solely god you. It was commanding but incredibly weak all at once. You swallowed hard, his words calming you slightly, but doubt still lingered. 

“I don’t want to ruin this,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

“You won’t,” he said, his tone firm. “I won’t let you.” The conviction in his voice made you want to believe him, but the weight of everything—your past, your ex, Jack, the scrutiny that would inevitably come—still sat heavy on your chest.

 “I just…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

“Baby... please. Just be here with me ,” Trent said with a small smile. “I’m here with you. That’s all that matters right now. And if it's really too much, just say the word. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work but for right now.. Just try.” He cooed gently.  You stared at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. 

“You’re being too nice.” You giggled nervously. Trent had always been unreasonably patient and kind with you and that clearly wasn’t about to change. “I don’t deserve you,” you whispered.

“Yes, you do,” he said without hesitation, his voice so sure it made your chest tighten even more. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that you could do this, that you could be brave enough to let this relationship exist outside of the shadows. But as you glanced back at the other boy across the room, your stomach churned with doubt. Trent’s hand on yours pulled your attention back to him.  “Hey,” he said softly. “baby, I'm serious, if you’re not ready, we can leave. No pressure.” Trent meant what he said but he'd be lying if a part of him wasn't aching for you just to try with him. To really commit to him, to this, to trying- it hurt. You hesitated for a moment before shaking your head.  The dinner had been perfect so far—Trent’s soft smiles, the way his fingers occasionally grazed yours on the table, and the playful, teasing lilt of his voice when he spoke. But your nerves had made it hard to focus entirely on him. You were too aware of your surroundings, glancing discreetly across the restaurant, noting every unfamiliar face. And then him. Josh’s friend. Maybe his name was Devon, you couldn't remember. And while he hadn’t said a word to you or Trent, his presence alone had unsettled you, pulling your mind into a spiral of what ifs. You felt like you were holding your breath, waiting for something to go wrong. You looked at Trent, his concern breaking through the wall of anxiety building in your chest. Trent was being so gentle, so patient, and it hit you—he deserved all of your attention tonight. It wasn’t fair to let the past shadow this moment.

“I’m okay, baby. Thank you. I'm sorry. I'm here." you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to let go of the tension in your shoulders, and allowed yourself to fall back into the bubble he created. With each passing minute, it became easier to focus solely on him. His laughter was infectious, the way he leaned in closer to you when you spoke made your stomach flutter. You’d forgotten how safe it felt to be wrapped up in someone like this, where the rest of the world melted away. But while you were blissfully unaware, Josh’s friend wasn’t. From his seat across the restaurant, he stared, squinting as recognition settled in. First, he caught sight of Trent—someone he knew well from the pitch, a rival he loved to hate. Then, his gaze shifted to you, seated across from him, clearly on a date. It was all too good. You, the ex of his best mate, now smiling, laughing, leaning into the guy who had made headlines time and again for his assists. He reached for his phone, holding it low as he snapped a photo of you both, capturing the intimacy of the moment. Trent’s hand resting on yours, your head tilted slightly as you laughed at something he’d just said. He smirked, tucking the phone away, already composing the perfect explanation to Josh when they inevitably debriefed. Meanwhile, you and Trent remained nonchalant, completely unaware of the brewing storm outside your little world. It didn’t matter, though—not right now. Your focus was on the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, on how his foot brushed against yours under the table. For that moment, it was just the two of you—soft beginnings and unspoken promises, blissfully unaware of the chaos looming on the horizon.

As the car rolled down Trent’s driveway, the engine cut and he turned to you, his hand still loosely holding yours. “I’m off tomorrow,” he said, his voice soft but hopeful. “You’ll stay with me tonight?” He asked. You tilted your head, pretending to consider it, but the grin tugging at your lips gave you away. 

“Obviously,” you teased with a giggle.

“C’mon,” he said with a smirk, stepping out of the car and coming around to open your door, his hand extended to help you out. As you walked to his front door, he hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his tone quieter. 

“I know this might sound stupid, but… I feel like I don’t sleep as well when you’re not here.” Your heart clenched at his honesty, and you turned to look at him, warmth spreading through your chest. 

“Aw, I’m sorry,” you said, teasing but still genuine. “Guess you’ll just have to invite me over more often.”  You smiled at him.

“Yeah?” He smiled down at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. 

“Yeah,” you said confidently, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ll be here whenever you need me.” Trent unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let you in first. 

“That’s all the time.” As you walked past him, he murmured under his breath, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it. You stopped just inside the doorway and turned to look at him, your expression softening. 

“Hmm?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, a bashful smile tugging at his lips. But you weren’t letting him off that easy.

“No, say it again. You said something,” you cooed, stepping closer to him, your curiosity piqued. He hesitated, running a hand over his hair, before finally meeting your eyes.

 “I said that’s all the time. I need you all the time.” He repeated himself feeling a little embarrassed. For a moment, the air between you felt heavier, charged with something unspoken but deeply felt. You stepped closer, your hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. 

“You’re such a closeted melt, you know that?” you teased, your voice trembling slightly with emotion.

“Yeah, well,” he said, his voice softening as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer. “You bring it out of me.” You leaned into him, your forehead resting against his, and for a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. It was just you and Trent, tangled up in each other, finding solace in the quiet honesty of the moment.

The moment you stepped into Trent’s ensuite that night, a wave of peace swept over you, so profound it nearly took your breath away. You paused in the doorway, your hand resting on the frame as your eyes scanned the room. It was large but not overly ornate, it felt like him—clean, understated, yet warm. Your toothbrush stood beside his on the sink, its placement deliberate and thoughtful. A small bottle of your favorite cleanser sat next to his cologne, nestled naturally as if it had always belonged there. A claw clip of yours rested near the edge of the counter, a quiet, unspoken reminder of the nights you’d spent here. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to undo you. You felt a tightness in your chest, not from anxiety or pain, but from an overwhelming sense of being seen. In the past, you’d been in rooms like this before. You’d picked up a bobby pin that didn’t belong to you, brushed past an earring left by someone else, and each time, it stung like a fresh wound, proof that you were just one of many. But here? Here, there were no ghosts of anyone else. Only you. It was all you tucked neatly beside only him. You took a step forward, letting your fingers trail along the edge of the counter. The thought of it—Trent deliberately making room for you, keeping your things here like they were as much a part of his space as his own—made your heart swell. It was such a simple thing, yet it felt monumental.

The sound of his footsteps behind you pulled you from your thoughts. You turned slightly to see him walk in, peeling his T-shirt off over his head in one easy motion. His body, lean and strong, caught the soft light of the room. He tossed the shirt onto the hamper carelessly before his eyes found yours in the mirror. A small, easy smile played on his lips as he crossed the room toward you, his movements unhurried. When he reached you, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you gently into him. His warmth seeped into your back as he pressed his chin against your shoulder, meeting your gaze in the mirror.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice low and steady, full of sincerity. You turned your head to look at him directly, but before you could speak, he tilted his head down, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, and the simple touch sent a shiver through you. “I mean it,” he murmured into the curve of your shoulder, his voice muffled but no less sure. “I can’t sleep without you sometimes, baby.” His confession made your breath hitch. Your chest rose and fell, your heart racing, but not from nerves. This was so different, quieter, yet somehow so much deeper. You turned fully into his embrace, letting your hands rest on his forearms, your fingers tracing the lean muscles there. His lips trailed across your skin, pressing soft, unhurried kisses along your neck and shoulder. He wasn’t rushing; he was savoring, as if every touch of his lips was a silent reassurance, a promise he didn’t yet know how to put into words. You let your eyes flutter shut, leaning back into him as he tightened his hold on you. His hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingers finding their place on your bare stomach. He rubbed slow, languid circles there, his touch both grounding and electrifying. “You look so good like this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and reverent. A quiet hum escaped your lips as you leaned into him even more, your head resting against his shoulder. It wasn’t just his touch that made you feel this way; it was the way he held you, like you were something precious, something he didn’t want to let go of.

“This,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “This feels… perfect.” You told him.

“It does,” he replied, his voice equally soft but certain. For a while, you stayed there, wrapped in each other, letting the stillness of the moment settle over you. The air between you was charged yet calming, full of unspoken truths and quiet reassurances. As his hands continued their soothing motion on your stomach, you felt it—a profound sense of belonging. This wasn’t just a room, or a night, or even a fleeting moment. This was what you’d been searching for, what you hadn’t known you needed until now.

“You really like when I stay with you?” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly with emotion.

“I really do,” he promised, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. His words weren’t just for the moment; they felt like a vow, one you believed with your whole heart. And as you stood there, his arms around you, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet comfort of something that finally felt like home. Your moment of bliss was split when his phone rang. It was late, no one but someone important would call this late so you nodded for him to take it. He placed a couple more kisses onto your shoulder and your neck before dragging his hands off of you.

"Come to bed when you’re ready," he murmured nodding you on to finish getting ready for bed whilst he answered a phone call that ended up being from his agent.  

As you stepped out of the en-suite, Trent was already lying on the bed, propped up against the headboard, his dark eyes fixed on you. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over his chiseled features. He looked god-esque, his tanned skin glistening in the soft light, and his brown eyes sparkling with desire. You could feel a rush of excitement as you noticed the bulge in his sweatpants, a clear indication of his arousal. Smiling shyly, you approach the bed, your heart racing. Setting your phone down on the nightstand, you climbed onto the bed, your eyes never leaving his. Trent's gaze traveled down your body, taking in every curve, his eyes lingering on your tits, now partially exposed in your little silk pajama set.

"You look beautiful," he says, his voice deep and husky. "I love seeing you like this, at home with me… getting into bed with me.” He told you and though you agreed with loving his domestic this all felt you really liked the undertone of lust. You blushed at his words, feeling a surge of pleasure at the way he was able to make you feel desired. 

"Yeah?” you replied, your voice a little breathless. "I like how you look at me when I get into your bed.” You smirked. Trent chuckled, a low, seductive sound that sent shivers down your spine. 

"I can't help it, baby. You're so fucking sexy." He reached out and ran his fingers along your jawline, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. "I've been thinking about this all day. About having you here, back in my bed, doing all the things I've been dreaming of." Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You'd been dreaming of this moment too, of being with Trent, of a night like tonight exploring the passion and desire you'd both kept hidden for so long now bringing it out in public. Yet, in the bedroom, in private, was where you most wanted to be. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as his thumb brushed over your lower lip. "I want to make you feel good, Y/N," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "I want to touch you, taste you, make you say my name." He cooed gently with a purr. Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. You  always knew Trent was a confident and dominant guy, but hearing him express his desires so openly sends a thrill through your body every time.  You wanted to please him, to submit to his every whim, and the thought excited you beyond measure.

"Yes, please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I want that now, baby." Trent's eyes darkened with a fierce intensity, and he pulled you closer, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, a gentle tease that left you craving more.

 "I'm going to take care of you, baby," he murmurs between kisses. As his lips captured yours, you melted into the kiss, your body molding perfectly to his. His tongue danced with yours, exploring, tasting, and claiming. You can taste the mint from your toothpaste on his tongue, a refreshing contrast to the heat building between you. His kiss was demanding, possessive, and it sent a clear message—he wants you, and he's going to have you. Your hands began to roam over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his freshly clean shirt he’d just put on. You tugged at the fabric, eager to feel his skin against yours. Trent broke the kiss, his breathing heavy as he helped you lift his shirt over his head, revealing his sculpted torso. The sight of his bare chest took your breath away. His skin was smooth and tanned, with a light dusting of hair that trails down his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his joggers.

"Fuck, you're so hot, T," you whispered, running your fingers over his pecs, feeling the rigid definition of his muscles. Trent's eyes gleamed with satisfaction at your words. He leaned back, pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. The position giving you a delicious sense of power. You took a moment to admire the sight of his strong body beneath you.

"Y/N," he growled your name, his hands gripping your thighs. "Show me how much you want me." He commanded you. You bit your lip, feeling a surge of boldness as you reached down grasping the waistband of his joggers. With slow, deliberate movements, you slid them down his hips, revealing his thick, erect cock, straining against his boxer briefs. You let out a soft gasp at the sight, your body throbbing with need, your fingers tracing the length of his shaft through the thin fabric. Trent's breath hitched as your fingers teased him, he bucked his hips, seeking more contact.  "Fuck, baby," he groans. "Take what you want. Show me.” You didn’t need to be told twice. With a swift motion, you hooked your thumbs under the elastic of his underwear and pulled them down, freeing his hard length. His cock sprung free, thick and heavy, the head glistening with pre-cum. You lean down, your breath ghosting over the sensitive skin, making him shudder. "Suck my cock, pretty girl," he commanded smugly, his hands gently dragging up your arm, to your shoulder, before moving to push some of your hair back. You obliged with a smile and a hum, lowering your head and taking the tip of his cock into your warm mouth. Trent let out a guttural moan as you swirled your tongue around the head, tasting the salty sweetness of him. You sucked gently, taking him deeper, inch by inch, until you could feel his hands in your hair, encouraging you to take more. "That's it, good girl," he grunted, his hips thrusting gently, fucking your mouth. And you took him well, minute after minute. "You wanna make me cum, baby? Suck me nice and slow, feel how hard you make me." You moaned around his length, the vibrations sending him over the edge. Trent's hands tighten in your hair, holding you in place as he empties his load down your throat. You swallow, relishing the taste of him, the evidence of his pleasure. He pulled you up, his lips seeking yours, sharing a deep, passionate kiss. "You're incredible," he breathed, his hands stroking your back. "I can't get enough of you." You smiled against his lips, feeling empowered by his words. 

"I want to feel you inside me, T," you whispered, your hands roaming down his body, eager for more of him. He grinned, his eyes alight with anticipation.

“Mmmm, good, cause I plan to be inside you all night, baby." With that, he rolled you onto your back, his body covering yours, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands slide under your top, caressing your skin, making you squirm with delight. "Let me take this off," he murmurs, his fingers deftly pulling up your silk tank top. You lifted your arms, allowing him to remove the garment, baring your tits to his hungry gaze. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your tits, your nipples already taut and begging for attention. "So fucking gorgeous," he growled, lowering his head to take a tight peak into his mouth. His tongue teased and suckled, drawing a moan from deep within you. You arched into his touch, your hands threading through his hair, holding him to you as he lavished attention on your sensitive flesh. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, squeezing, and caressing, making you feel alive and desired in a way you never had. "So good f’me, baby," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin as he moves to the other boob, giving it the same attentive treatment. You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your body humming with desire. Trent's hands travel down your body, playing with the waistband of your shorts before sliding them down your legs, leaving you clad only in your lacy panties. He took a moment to admire your naked form, his eyes burning with appreciation. "You're so fucking beautiful, Y/N," he says, his voice thick with admiration. "I’ve wanted this for so long. Every time feels like dream. Just want to worship every inch of you."  His words sent a thrill through your body, almost as if he cast a spell with them causing your legs to magically spread in silent invitation, eager for more of his touch. Trent knelt between your thighs, his eyes fixed on your core, now covered only by a thin layer of silk. "Gonna let me taste you, baby?” he asked tauntingly but his voice hoarse with need.

“Mhhhmm. Please, T.” You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps as he hooked his fingers under the elastic of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs. He took his time, his eyes never leaving your exposed heat, drinking in the sight of your glistening folds.

"So wet just for me," he murmurs, his fingers gently parting your lips, exposing your clit. You let out a soft cry as his finger brushes over your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Trent leaned down, his breath hot against your swollen flesh, and then he replaced his finger with his mouth, his tongue flicking and lapping at your clit.

"Oh God, T, fuck," you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets as he feasted on your pussy, his tongue delving deep, tasting your essence. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending you closer to the edge. His fingers joined his tongue, sliding into your wet heat, stretching and filling you as he suckled your clit. Your body coiled tighter with each stroke, each flick of his tongue, until you were teetering on the precipice of release.

"Cum for me, baby," he urges, his voice muffled against your sex. "Let me feel you come on my tongue." His words pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure rippling through you. Trent didn’t let up though, his tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony, drawing out your orgasm until you were left trembling and sated. He moved up your body, his lips finding yours, sharing the taste of your climax. "So good f’me, baby," he breathes, his eyes filled with adoration. "I love making you feel good. Love making you cum." You tiredly smiled, your heart full as you pull him close, feeling the deep connection between you. 

"I love cumming for you, T," you whispered, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his face. Both of you were using the orgasm as a front. Hiding behind the physical sensations to mask the very deep emotional connection developing. Neither of you really cared about that specific orgasm, no matter how good it was - you just were so clearly in love with each other and needed to say something but this wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place. "I've never felt this way before." You sheepishly told him. He kissed you softly, his lips brushing yours in a tender caress.

 "I know, baby. I feel it too. This is just the beginning. Promise" Trent cooed. He was talking about sex tonight but he was also talking about your relationship, your feelings. As his words began to sink in, you realized this night was just the start of something much bigger. The rest of the evening was spent in every position possible. Each orgasm hacking away at your restraint. You were falling weaker and weaker to him literally and figuratively, terrified you’d let those three little words slip. But after round five and orgasm seven you said no more, clinging to Trent, exhausted and spent, your eyes fluttering closed as he held you securely rubbing his hands up and down your body gently. He hummed in agreement kissing your glistening skin. He cleaned you up but you barely remember it as you were focused on nothing else but not letting your tired mind and body mutter how truly in love with him you really were. You successfully fell to sleep with no slip ups but Trent could feel the tension. He almost wished you had said it so he could finally admit it to you but that wasn't the case. And so that night, he held you tighter to him than he ever had before as he dozed off, unable to leave any space for the words you both longed to say. He was struggling to bite back the feelings looking at you asleep in his arms, the words so desperate to come out now. You looked so different now. Different than you did on the porch and you felt different too. You felt like you were his. But it wasn't just you, it all felt different, so different. Things had changed. You two had changed and there was no turning back now.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 11 xx

[genericpuff]

Do you have any entry level recommendations for someone looking to learn a bit more about Greek mythology? I’d love to read up on it but I’m not sure how to find reputable sources and avoid Americanisation.

I mean, at the risk of sounding crass, you're likely going to run into Americanization no matter what you do because America itself was built on many cultures, especially that of Greek philosophy and storytelling.

Buuut if you mean you wanna read some actual Greek myth content that AREN'T modern American spins on classic tales, Emily Wilson is a popular choice for many people dipping their toes into translated mythology as her translations are both simplistic and concise in their language choices as well as fun in their structure to read both internally and orally (iirc her translations are done in iambic pentameter which is very familiar to anyone who's ever read Shakespeare). I've been working through her translation of The Odyssey, it's been pretty enjoyable :)

I've also heard great things about both Lattimore and Fitzgerald, the latter of whom I will be reading next after I finish Wilson's translation. That said, I haven't read either of their works yet, so take my recommendation of them with grains of salt! (I hope you enjoy them though if you check 'em out! If you beat me to it, let me know how they went!)

OH also, I know it's sorta the opposite of what you're likely looking for as it's VERY influenced by modern contexts, but thanks to another anon I recently got into Destripando la Historia which is a super fun animated Youtube series that retells the stories of various different gods from different mythologies. If you're into stuff of the goofy anime variety, you might enjoy them, it's a Spanish series but you can turn on captions to read the translations! It's super beginner-friendly, it covers a lot of different stories and myths without getting into so much detail that it's overwhelming (but gives you a good kickoff point to start with!) and the songs and animations slap, Afrodita is one of my favorites haha

Overall the biggest advice I can give you if you're trying to avoid fanfiction-y / "Americanized" retellings is just to cross-reference. If you find a retelling you really like but aren't completely sure of its legitimacy as a functional retelling, keep reading, watching, and learning more. It's a skill like any other, and the more you read, the more you'll be able to pick out what's a legitimate retelling from studied scholars vs. what's fanfiction that you don't need to take too accurately or seriously LMAO

And honestly, nothing wrong with the fanfiction stuff! Mythology, in its very nature, changes over time, it's an inevitability and many of the myths we still draw from today are often derivative in and of themselves from even older versions that pre-existed them (see: Ovid).

it's okay if your introduction to Greek myth is through derivative fanfic, stuff like Disney's Hercules and even Lore Olympus ARE fun to consume for a lot of people and make for a good entry point into learning more about the myths!

What's frustrating - and what I tend to criticize the most here - is when the fanfiction gets advertised / sold as legitimate retellings; when the fanfiction grossly misrepresents the actual mythology and yet tries to claim it as legitimate anyways which results in fanbases that are running around with completely false information claiming it as fact. If you can give the team behind Hercules credit for one thing, their rendition may not be completely accurate, BUT the folks who made it never bragged about how much smarter they were than other people about Greek myth or call themselves "folklorists" when they didn't even have any formal education/training/etc. in it cough like another creator we know cough 💀 If we want to make a comparison between LO and a Disney film in terms of how it grossly misrepresents the themes and cultural contexts of the original stories it was drawing from... Disney's Pocahontas does exactly that 💅

So if you want to avoid any "grossly" Americanized versions of Greek myth that are borderline disrespectful to the stories they're drawing from... yeah, that's usually a pretty indicative red flag LMAO

But outside of those very specific scenarios, just have fun with it, there really is no "right or wrong" way to engage with the mythology if you're simply just wanting to learn more, the beauty of it being mythology is that it's very diverse in its mediums and thus you don't have to be restricted to learning about it exclusively through academic translations or lectures. Of course, there are cultural intersections with these myths that shouldn't be ignored, we always have to treat it with care when engaging with it so that we aren't overwriting another culture's traditions or beliefs - but if you're simply wanting to learn about and entertain yourself with some amazing stories that have quite literally stood the test of time, do so however you see fit :)

[spiderb00]

Fam out - Sophia Laforteza

Sophia Laforteza X Reader 

Synopsis - Sophia loves when you're caring, serious, she LOOOVES ;)

Genre – Fluff, a little suggestive at the end? 

a/n - Was I so excited to write this, for some reason??? I think I also kind of like domestic things, so...  

I think it has a little bit of Yn!Oc in that, I mean, Yn is a little bit based on me and my personality <3

The theater was full, people quickly finding their seats, all excited by the movie. Yoonchae was happy to have someone she could share this experience with. The younger girl knew that as soon as she talked to Sophia she would agree to watch the movie instantly, but when Yn agreed to watch the movie with them, Yoonchae was more surprised than ever.   

You've been dating Sophia for six months, Yoonchae has always liked you, despite having similar personalities, you two were very different, Yoonchae thinks the age difference does that. The younger girl knew that you had a somewhat peculiar taste for a 21-year-old girl.   

Yoonchae liked to describe her personality as the "personality of a divorced father", she always said that Sophia's girlfriend liked rock, preferably older bands, wore band shirts, played guitar, loved horror and action movies, and had a vintage car (old) that seemed strangely comfortable to Yoonchae. She would say that you were quiet, a born observer. Yoonchae liked that, she found your personality cozy, even though other people found you scary.   

Yoonchae thought Sophia was happy in her relationship, and boy, could she not be more right. Sophia loved every detail of Yn, she loved you was always attentive, as you always did everything to make everyone comfortable. Sophia noticed every single thing, how you always grabbed the highest things from the shelves when the Kats couldn't reach, and how you always pretended not to care about the "thank you" from the girls, responding only with a brief "Hm".   

Sophia always noticed how you always left a bottle of water nearby at rehearsals you went to attend, or how you always applied the sidewalk rule when you went out for a walk, or how you always made sure Sophia had gotten home before starting the car and going home. Sophia has always noticed everything.  

But sure, her favorite interactions were with Yoonchae, Sophia loves it when you do something for the younger girl, something about it warms your heart. So when you said yes when Yoonchae invited you to watch "inside out 2" your girlfriend was automatically jumping up and smiling silly.  

Everything was cozy, the trip to the cinema in her vintage car – cof cof old cof cof – the smell of popcorn and even the feeling that the choice of seats was perfect, everything seemed extremely domestic to Sophia.  

When the movie started you were super entertained, all the colors and captivating animations held your attention. As the movie played, you noticed that Yoonchae's drink had run out. Looking at the Filipino girl's cup and seeing a good amount of liquid, you decided to get a little more just for the younger girl.   

"Hey, I'll be right back." You say, leaning in and giving Sophia a kiss on the head, leaving before she could say anything.  

After buying the drink and some candy that you think the girls would like, you went back to your seat, trying to be discreet and not get in the way of people.  

"Where have you gone?" Sophia asks as soon as you sit in the armchair.   

"Buy some things."   

You put the drink in Yoonchae's cup holder and hand her one of the candies you bought, knowing that it was her favorite.   

"I bought this for you, you like those, right?" You ask, looking at Sophia, who now had heart eyes.   

"Yes baby, thank you." The Filipino girl says before grabbing the back of your neck and giving you a kiss.   

"Of course, I'm here for that." You say, focusing on the film again, not before intertwining your hand with Sophia's. 

In the car, once again, Sophia felt that feeling, the cozy and domestic environment that she quickly learned to love. Yoonchae and you debated about the movie (More like Yoonchae talking and you agreeing and making comments here and there) while Sophia listened to everything in the passenger seat, scratching your head as you drove to the restaurant.   

When you arrive at the restaurant you unconsciously pull the chair to Yoonchae, doing the same to Sophia and then taking the seat next to your girlfriend. The food came, and you ate it amidst silly conversations and jokes. One of the jokes making Yoonchae laugh and unintentionally hitting the glass of water next to her.   

"Watch your clothes, Yoonchae." Sophia said as she picked up the glass that fell.   

"Oh my god, I'm sorry." The younger girl says as she gets up from her chair so that the water doesn't get on her clothes.   

"It's okay Yoonchae, it was just water. And the glass didn't break, I'm just going to ask the waiter to clean it, you can sit in my seat while I call the waiter, okay?"

Very interested in calling the waiter to clean up the mess on the table, you unfortunately missed the look that Sophia was giving you, but if someone who was around saw it, that person could tell that it was like a jaguar ready to attack her prey. 

You threw yourself on the bed next to Sophia with a sigh, the day had been fun and you were ready to rest. After leaving Yoonchae at home with the Kats, Sophia insisted that she would sleep at your house, you didn't question it, after all she could stay the night whenever she wanted, no matter how different something seemed.   

"Tired?"  

"A little, but nothing out of the ordinary. Did you have fun?" you asked, crossing your hands under your head and looking at the black-haired girl.  

"Yes, it was the best day," she said. "But it's about to get better." 

Sophia mounted on your waist with a smile on her face, legs on either side of your body, taking you completely by surprise.   

"With you everything always gets better." 

__________________

yes, they are Yoonchae's mothers... that's it :/

[lovelyshu]

han jisung and yn being absolutely in love with each other for 5 minutes — [1.3m views]

description. Cute moments caught on camera between han and yn

tags. f!reader, gidle!reader, maknae!reader, use of yn, gidle has a video with skz of competition, reader calls him oppa like once

comments. I have nothing to say, these are just some random scenarios I thought about and wrote. Please enjoy! <3

✰ first clip

During an award event, yn was yet again lost in the crowd. And the other members were trying to find her, even if discreetly.

But then, one of the cameras caught yn bumping into someone. Well, that someone being han jisung.

It was clear even from a distant that both of them got embarrassed by it, quickly bowing and apologizing.

Both of them stayed there awkwardly smiling, until han grabbed his phone to show yn something. To which she excitedly typed something in, before seeing Shuhua running in her direction.

Saying a quick goodbye, she ran off to shuhua's arms, having to listen to a scold and a teasing about always being lost.

What the camera did not caught was their conversation.

“You got his number?!”

“Yess!! I'm literally dying right now!”

“If he says anything bad to you I'm hunting him down all over Korea!”

✰ second clip

As the chk chk boom challenge went viral, a lot of idols were quick to do them. That meant that yn was also doing it.

In the clip, yn is seen trying to hold back her laughter, standing right next to han who was with the same expression waiting for the chorus to begin.

Yn did the challenge with han smoothly, until she messed up at the very end, making both of them burst out in laugh.

Laughing, yn lost the strength to keep standing on her legs, now almost falling to the floor.

Well, until han almost ran (even if they were already pretty close) to her and caught yn on his arms, still laughing.

It's very hard to see due to the camera, but if you squint your eyes hard enough you'll notice a tint of blush on jisung's face, and yn slowly getting more flustered if not for the video ending.

✰ third clip

During han's one kid's room, one of the topics were about people he really cared about.

As the conversation went on with mentioning all of the members and his family as well, until jeongin remembered of someone.

“Isn't there yn too? He's always talking about her.”

“Oh yeah you're right, han never shut ups about her.” - Hyunjin continued, all of them now laughing at some inside joke.

When it was jisung's turn to talk, he said almost the same thing, until he looked down for a moment smiling, suddenly feeling shy.

“There's also yn. We talk a lot and she's probably the closest person I have outside the group and my family. She's very special.”

✰ fourth clip

Gidle was in an interview, answering fans questions about their songs, life, future comebacks and the usual.

Some of the questions were directed to specific members. And one of them being "Does yn have someone she really loves apart from her group?"

Thinking for a moment, yn smiled without even noticing, excited to answer the question.

“Yeah! I really love han from stray kids. His very friendly and kind, I enjoy his company a lot.”

The other members looked at her with widen eyes, a surprised smiled on all of their faces, making yn confused. Until she understood what it might have sounded like.

“I-I mean that in a friend way! I love him as my friend!”

And that was all it took for them to start laughing at her, soyeon even holding on her shoulder lightly.

✰ fifth clip

Felix was recording a vlog, filming the backstage before one of their shows. Everything was chaotic as usual, as he talked about the show.

Suddenly, han came out of a room, not noticing the camera. Felix went silent as he pointed the camera to the man, now hearing what he was talking about.

“Have yn called to any of you? My phone is almost dead so turned it off. She said she would call me before the show begun.”

He continued to talk about the idol, until noticing the camera, making him freeze for a moment before slowly waving at it, an awkward and shy smile on his face.

Jisung was already walking away, regretting his life decisions, and wanting to disappear even more as Minho shouted to him.

“No, she haven't called yet!”

✰ sixth clip

Miyeon was filming a vlog of how their day was going. Yuqi and shuhua were talking on the couch, while soyeon and yn were no where to be seen.

Searching for them, miyeon caught the sight of yn sitting on the corner of the room, hugging a little quokka plushie, a photocard and cellphone in hands.

Giggling to herself, she approached the girl, who quickly noticed the camera and was desperately trying to hide the objects.

“Hi miyeon unnie! Do you need anything?”

“I'm just filming our daily life. What are you doing?”

Yn stared at her with a dumbfounded smile, pressing a few times on the screen before showing it to her unnie.

“I'm listening to our songs.”

Miyeon knew she wasn't, but not wanting to make the poor maknae die on camera, she just nods, walking away to continue the filming.

✰ seventh clip

The first time gidle had managed to record something with stray kids, it was a competition between the members.

They formed seven teams with two people, han and yn being paired up together.

After some games and a lot of chaos, the next game they had to play was one in which, two teams will compete, trying to pull the tail from one of the members.

The one who manages to pull the tail out of their clothes first wins. And the final teams to play were han + yn and shuhua + jeongin.

It was the final round, and yn was the one with the tail, while han was mostly trying to protect her and avoid the other two to get too close.

After around thirty seconds in running around, yn managed to pull the tail from jeongin, making both of them cheer in excitement.

Without thinking twice, jisung and yn ran to each other for a hug, staying there for a long moment before pulling away, a slightly timid expression on both of their faces.

✰ eighth clip

At the music bank program, yn had the opportunity to be one of the mcs for a short period of time.

During this time, stray kids went to the program. Yn was doing an amazing job at being the mc, to which jisung complimented.

Feeling shy from his compliment, yn thanked him, clapping her hands together to avoid looking too timid as she smiled.

“Thank you jisung oppa!”

He mirrored her smile, as the other members laughed a bit.

After a few seconds of talking, seungmin bumped into han's shoulder, not saying anything, but a smirk forming on his face.

Han only looked away, embarrassed by the tease, without saying anything as well to not get the attention of anyone else.

[insomniac4000]

109 George Clarkey

Wear that dress- George Clarke

George was pacing back and forth in his living room, nervously running a hand through his hair. Tonight was the night. The night he would finally tell Willow that he loved her. He'd been planning this date for weeks, ensuring every detail was perfect.

He glanced at the clock. 5:30 p.m. Two hours until he picked her up. His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he quickly swiped it open to see a message from Willow.

"Hey, are you sure about the dress? It’s a bit much for just dinner, isn’t it?"

George grinned. Typical Willow—always downplaying how stunning she was. He replied quickly.

"Wear that dress, Trust me, you’ll be perfect in it. Can’t wait to see you ❤️."

Setting his phone aside, George took a deep breath and went to check himself in the mirror. Black shirt, dark jeans, and a blazer—simple but polished. He adjusted the collar for the fiftieth time before grabbing the small box from his desk drawer.

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a small charm engraved with the letter “W.” It wasn’t over the top, but it was meaningful—a reminder of how much he adored her.

Willow stood in front of her full-length mirror, smoothing down the soft fabric of the emerald-green dress George loved so much. It hugged her figure perfectly, with a subtle shimmer that caught the light. She paired it with simple heels and a gold necklace, letting her auburn hair cascade over her shoulders in loose waves.

The truth was, she’d never been with someone as thoughtful as George before. He made her laugh until her sides hurt, sent her random TikToks throughout the day, and always remembered the little things that mattered to her. But she couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves tonight.

Just as she was applying the final touch of lipstick, her doorbell rang.

George’s heart skipped a beat when Willow opened the door. She looked breathtaking, her hazel eyes sparkling with excitement.

“You look…” he trailed off, struggling to find words that did her justice.

Willow smiled shyly. “Good enough for this mysterious date of yours?”

“Way more than good enough,” George replied, taking her hand and leading her to his car.

The drive was filled with easy chatter, but George’s palms were slightly sweaty on the steering wheel. As they pulled into the parking lot of a riverside restaurant, Willow glanced around in surprise.

“George, this place is beautiful!”

He grinned. “Only the best for you.”

The restaurant was intimate, with soft lighting and a stunning view of the Thames. They were seated at a table by the window, where fairy lights reflected off the water like tiny stars.

As the evening went on, they talked about everything and nothing—Willow’s latest painting project, George’s chaotic filming schedule, and their shared love for discovering new music.

But as the dessert arrived—a rich chocolate fondant with a single candle on top—Willow raised an eyebrow.

“What’s this for?”

George chuckled. “Not everything needs a reason. Sometimes, you just deserve something special.”

Willow laughed softly, leaning across the table. “You’re up to something, Clarkeey.”

George’s heart thudded in his chest. This was it.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for her hand across the table. “Willow, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say for a while now.”

Her expression softened, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “Go on.”

“You’ve made these past four months some of the best of my life,” he began, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of nerves inside him. “You’re funny, kind, talented, and you somehow put up with all my stupid jokes.”

Willow laughed, squeezing his hand. “You’re lucky I like you.”

George smiled, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “Well, I don’t just like you, Willow. I love you.”

The words hung in the air, both terrifying and exhilarating.

Willow’s breath hitched, her eyes wide. For a moment, George worried he’d overstepped, but then her face broke into the most radiant smile he’d ever seen.

“I love you too, George,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

Relief and joy flooded through him as he stood, moving to her side of the table. He pulled the small box from his pocket, opening it to reveal the bracelet.

“I got this for you. Something to remind you of how much you mean to me.”

Willow’s eyes glistened as she let him fasten the bracelet around her wrist. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

They shared a soft kiss, ignoring the quiet murmurs of other diners around them. In that moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

[tamilhobbit]

Honestly, fully agree. I just rewatched the main PotC trilogy and then On Stranger Tides, and there really is such a drop in quality. The original trilogy is wonderful. Its cinematography alone is excellent, and oh, that music.

- Each of the films has a beautifully gothic, atmospheric opening. Lingering shots on details like the teacups full of rain, on the expression on the boy's face as he looks up at the noose. Honestly the beginning of At World's End, with the chilling double whammy of child execution and That Song, is in my opinion one of the best openings out there.

- Just. Gorgeous lighting and composition, by and large.

- Like Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean has a lot of night combat scenes that are well lit. You can actually see what's going on.

- The combat is so well choreographed. I often find combat scenes boring after a few watches unless they're really well done, and the combat in these films is always so fun to watch. Elizabeth and Will's wedding is top-tier, but most of the combat is excellent. It got a lot more chaotic and boring in Stranger Tides.

- The chemistry. One of the reasons the other films suffer is that Jack is less compelling as a standalone protagonist - they keep giving us these young lover couples to root for, as a clear stand-in for Will and Elizabeth, but it misses the point. The trilogy worked because of the main trio: Jack, Will and Elizabeth. They all bounced off each other so well. Will and Elizabeth were more than just dewy-eyed lovers, like Philip and Syrena. They were complex characters with arcs of their own, and a complicated relationship with Jack that clearly went both ways.

Barbossa is also great but the magic was in the main trio. The films are less interesting and compelling when it's just Jack, Barbossa, Gibbs and a bunch of new characters.

- Minor details, like the excessive amount of sugar we see Cutler Beckett consuming and serving. Given the cost of sugar at the time - and no, I am not talking about money - it tells us a lot about his character and what he represents.

- That fucking music. Hans Zimmer, you genius. Those swelling themes are magical.

That said, it is frustrating how Elizabeth is constantly under threat of SA. In the first film it was to establish the pirates as an actual threat so we'd root for the good guys, but like. In that whole silly Singapore sequence there was no reason for the leering dude to make her remove more of her clothes and walk around like that. It could have been skipped.

(Also as an actual Singaporean I trust I do not need to say how much I hate that whole part, lmao. For one thing, the time period is most likely before the British showed up in Singapore in 1819. Before that we were a Malay kingdom and, at this point, subject to the Johor sultanate. Not a Chinese pirate city. We weren't even called Singapore yet; we were still Singapura.)

Just in general, those films definitely have a racism problem. 😫

Comments on Pirates of the Caribbean

So, I rewatch the first one after years bc I was sick by the Johnny Depp bullshit and through his presence would ruin the movie for me, thankfully, it didn't.

- Why don't they make blockbusters like this anymore? The scale of the production, everything feels so real, so damn good. They only used CGI when they needed it.

-Now I noticed that Elizabeth, Will and Jack have "friendship" matching scars, as all the three of them have a long cut on the palm of their hand.

-When Barbossa is about to cut Elizabeth, thinking her blood is the one they needed, instead of cutting her throat (something that was expected of him) he just cut her hand and when even Elizabeth looked confused at him, he says "waste not"

At first I thought that he was being nice, like there's no need to kill her, and this being a Disney movie really makes me think that. But now I get it, he wasn't being nice, he was being a nightmare as he only didn't kill her bc he was planning on SA her as soon as the curse was off. That's dark.

And it's weirdly nice to see how their relationship goes from this nightmare, to Barbossa not only actually respecting and acknowledge Elizabeth as one of them, but also with Elizabeth asking him to marry her with Will. It's like they became buddies at the end, almost lol

-People often praise only Johnny Depp for the success of the trilogy, and yes, he was good I got to admit but he wasn't the sole reason of the movies success. The proof of that is that after Worlds End, the movies went down in quality and will not pretend that the writing and production didn't go down either but the thing is that the characters also were not near as charming, charismatic and just as good as Elizabeth, Will, Barbossa, Davy Jones the crew guys...Jack Sparrow is good but he needs good company to truly shine. And the chemistry they all had towards each other plays a big part in the trilogy success. Jack Sparrow is amazing, but only when he isn't the protagonist.

Edit 1: I've saw the second and third ones again today and damn Hans Zimmer was inspired, the Davy Jones theme is the Best villain theme song (sorry Darth Vader)

At world's end, who also is the Will and Elizabeth theme(with some minor changes) is so good. It's not only good, it's a masterpiece. One of my fav original movie songs ever.

-Elizabeth arc is so well done. From damsel in distress, to pirate, to pirate queen. And it was natural, didn't feel forced at all. Even when she was damsel in distress, she wasn't helpless. In the first movie, after the ship battle, she launched herself at Barbossa , to punch in bc she thought Will was gone. She was always fierce.

And now in the second and third movie when she already knew how to fight...she became a menace.

-And Elizabeth lost her dad, her friend and the love of her life in like, just a few days. Damn. And all of the men she kissed, died lol. Jack, Norrington, Sao Feng and Will, and they all die right after kissing her. I bet she has some sort of "black widow" reputation among the sailors

-Jack really cared for both Elizabeth and Will, and we can see it in the scene when he told Elizabeth that her father was gone and when Davy Jones killed Will. And it makes sense cuz Jack was important in their journey from day one, and he saw their growth from naive young adults to pirates.

-Without a doubt, one of the best trilogies we have.

[thisbluespirit]

Films watched (1930s): The Lady Vanishes (Gainsborough, 1938); dir. Alfred Hitchcock; adapted by Sidney Gilliat & Frank Launder (based on The Wheel Spins by Ethel Lina White). Starring Michael Redgrave, Margaret Lockwood, Dame May Witty & Paul Lukas.

"People don't just disappear into thin air."

[faaun]

Jack Marsh (2005), Friendship Otherwise - Toward a Levinasian Description of Personal Friendship

[theinfinitedivides]

and once again i say: F*CK MBC

[hairtusk]

[heavenbarnes]

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

-

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

-

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

-

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

-

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

-

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

[gallavichsreddie1128]

FWB to Lovers w/ Logan

Description: How Y/N and Logan went from Fuck buddies to Lovers

Warning: Dirty talk

Ever since Y/N, Wade and Logan saved the timeline it has been a known thing that Logan and Y/N had tension and Wade always made it known: “UGH just fuck already Disney can just cut it out of the film.” “What?” 

Y/N tried to hide her feelings at first knowing that Logan probably wanted someone his age and not a younger woman with little to no experience. Boy was she wrong: “Wade’s right. We should fuck.” 

Though he said that drunk, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about it. She was sure he wouldn’t remember saying that but the never next day when she just stared at him a little too long she was up against the wall in a second: “We need to hurry before Wade gets back.” 

He was huge compared to her and the size kink was real. For his age he had a nice body and a dick that hit all her special spots: “Fuck. I didn’t even know that spot could be reached.”

He took her on everything in that house. The couch, the wall, the beds (even Wade’s), shower, counter and even on a chair. Wade found out and his reaction wasn’t even surprising: “You guys can’t just fuck on my bed and not let me watch.” 

Y/N was falling hard for the man and Wade could tell. Her stares were no longer just filled with lust but love. She looked at him like he was the whole world and more: “OMG is the Y/N falling in love?” “Shut up!”

Logan was too and that showed when he found out that Y/N and Wade had slept together before. Though Y/N and Logan weren’t together and only supposed to be FWB, He got extremely jealous: “YOU GUYS HAVE SLEPT TOGETHER?” “Duh. Have you seen us? Two hot people fucking is the norm.” 

Y/N and Wade both found it odd that he got mad about that given it was 2 years ago and before any of this. Logan stormed off to his room ignoring them calling his name. Wade looked at Y/N with a knowing look: “Seems like your pussy is a love potion and he had too much of it.” 

Though it wasn’t the best idea, Wade went to talk to him about it. Y/N almost wanted to do it herself but Wade offered and said that he wouldn’t crack jokes about the situation: “Listen peanut, I understand that you have a bad boy reputation to stick too but that hard on you’re showing says you enjoyed the thought of it.” “WADE GET OUT!” 

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. Her mind was on Logan and how he just stormed out of the room after hearing that they fucked. Did he love her back? She needed to know. She walked to his door and knocked, not caring if he was asleep or not: “Do you love me?” “Y/N, It’s 3 am.” 

He did in fact love her and he should’ve shown it better. Wade always wanted to get under his skin and that’s probably why he mentioned that: “I said that to get you two together. It’s annoying to see you guys act like Blind AL trying to find something.” 

Ok Wade maybe a little too far?

Both of them were idiots for not just admitting how they felt but now it was worth it in the end and Wade was to thank: “I’m not thanking you with Tacos!” “Well aren’t you just ungrateful?”

[masterhallmark]

Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.