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wttcsms · 3 months

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ match my freak !!

ᝰ.ᐟ the two of you are private not secret, but when the media starts to speculate that the two of you are no longer together, neither of you are too happy. the best way to get everyone to stop with the breakup rumors? posting something a little bit nasty to the feed to satiate everyone's curiosity. (fem!reader)

featuring tobio kageyama, atsumu miya, tetsurou kuroo, wakatoshi ushijima, tooru oikawa, rintarou suna content contains breeding kink (atsumu, wakatoshi), pregnant reader (wakatoshi), famous!reader (changes depending on scenario), creampie (tetsurou), hatefucking (not really, you + kuroo just like to antagonize each other but the attraction is there), scratches on his back (tobio), hickeys (tooru), wet n messy (rintarou), possessive!character x possessive!reader (the two of you are obsessed with each other ok), social media references lol author's notes i'm definitely doing a blue lock version, i'm just seeing if this is a popular premise lol <3 based off this original concept !! these are just silly little drabbles for me to warm up to the idea of writing again haha

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA

your fans are speculating: that you and kageyama have broken up. fans are recording footage from you on your latest tour and claim that you're "clearly disassociating" and "somewhere else mentally" when it comes to singing your iconic love songs. you and kageyama have always kept your relationship private because he's not a very open person to begin with, and you don't want to give the media more material to misconstrue. you know that kageyama hates when some random person will annotate your verses on genius lyrics and try to make the claim that your innocent metaphor is you wanting to jump ship and leave kageyama. and you hate how it's your own fans who are making wild accusations of you no longer being with the man all your love songs are about.

you posted: kageyama, with his back turned to the camera so all that fills your camera is the surprisingly broad expanse of his muscular back and shoulders. he's not even flexing, and it's obvious that he's a world-class athlete. he's facing the closet, trying to find a shirt to put on, and it would be a semi-innocent photo, the pinterest-perfect photo inspo for every private not secret relationship out there, except for the fact that there are clearly faint, red lines — scratches — running down his back. you caption the photo with a "monday morning 🤍" (your insane fans spam the comment section to exclaim how they knew you two were still a thing... and to speculate that this photo is somehow an easter egg for an upcoming song/album. well, they're right: you two will always be a thing, and tobio dicked you down so good last night that you could write him a whole album.)

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"fuck," the word slips through his gritted teeth, and you can tell that your tobio is still upset about how your fans seem divided. half of them claim no one could ever make them hate tobio (you find those fans to be absolutely adorable), and the other half...

well, the other half are making slideshow posts to audios that go "some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world" and the ones that seem to go viral are always the ones that feature you and tobio.

"not hidin' you away." he mutters, never slowing down his thrusts. he admires the expression on your face as he fucks into you, his ego pleased with how receptive you are to his every movement. he has you speared on his cock, your tight little cunt full of him, your eyes getting so adorably teared-up because he's just a little bit too much for you to handle. tobio isn't good with words; he thinks you're the most beautiful girl to exist, but he can't verbalize it. so he just takes in your sweet, fucked-out face, the reaction only he's capable of drawing from you, and it all gets so overwhelming for him.

he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash as he continues to bully his cock into your soaked pussy. "why's it bad if i want to keep you all to myself?" he's practically whining, and you think this would be so cute if only you weren't currently chasing after your release. or rather, tobio's forcing you to cum, whether you want to or not. it's not like you can stop him; tobio devotes himself to always ensuring that you finish before him. he likes the satisfaction of knowing only he can take care of you, and he especially likes the way his cock looks with you creaming all over it.

when he gets like this, all you can do is cling to him, your arms wrapped around his muscular build. when he gets rough with his thrusts, when his body gets just the slightest bit sweaty from the exertion (evidence of just how much work he puts into fucking you), you have to dig your manicured nails (the set he paid for) into the skin of his toned back. otherwise, you'd lose your grip, and your hands would slip off.

tobio relishes the slight stinging pain of your nails scratching down his skin. but the scratches aren't enough. he needs to make you cum. when you get so caught up in your climax, you start clawing at him as you lose control. he loves the scratches you leave on him; it's proof that he's yours just as much as you are his.

౨ৎ ATSUMU MIYA

haters are saying: that you're just using atsumu for content. you're a gold digger. you're not genuine. you're not "wifey material." spectators are claiming that atsumu is playing worse than before because he's too "pussywhipped" for you. well, he likes to cheekily admit to you that he is addicted to your pussy, but they're wrong about everything else. obviously. however, the haters are feeling very vindicated whenever they see atsumu hasn't been posting you as much. (you're traveling for a new vlog series on your page, but no one knows.)

he posted: a mirror selfie. which isn't breaking news. atsumu miya always breaks the internet when he posts a mirror selfie because the only thing worse than a hot guy is a hot guy who knows he's hot. no one is a stranger to the sight of a post-workout, sweaty, shirtless atsumu, who flaunts his tight abs and muscular thighs with a steamy mirror selfie. but this photo? this one is going triple platinum. it's going down in history. this selfie is taken in dim lighting; the curtains in the background are drawn shut, he's got one hand gripping his phone (making the phone look tiny in his big hand), and he's got one arm wrapped around you. it's not an innocent hug, though. he's cupping your ass, and the phone in front of his face does nothing to shield his satisfied smirk. you're clad in nothing but lacy lingerie from a designer who loves to sponsor you, and you're clinging to his side, almost like you can't even stand without his support. it's clear that the two of you definitely were... appreciating the work your favorite designer put in when they created that lacy set.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"what do you think?" you're smiling at him, knowing damn well what he's thinking.

atsumu looks up at you, reflexively licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you wearing a new set of lingerie that you just got delivered. it leaves little room for imagination, and the material looks so delicate, atsumu is already thinking about how he'll have to apologize to the designer for ripping it off of you.

"i think I'm the luckiest man alive right now." atsumu is shameless in the way he's admiring you, the way the setting sun still peeks through the curtains, enveloping your body in a delicious golden glow as you inch closer and closer to him.

in a matter of seconds, he's pulling you on top of him, placing wet, sloppy kisses over any centimeter of your skin he can reach. when you make a move to slip off the panties, he protests.

"leave 'em on f'me, baby. please?"

he fucks you with you still wearing the lingerie set. your breasts are spilling out of the bra, and all he did was move your panties to the side so he could stretch you out with his cock.

"fuckin' idiots, tellin' me you're not good enough to marry. i'll show 'em what a good girl you are, right? gonna put a ring on your finger, and make you my wife." he's fucking his cock into you, making sure that your cute cunt knows who it belongs to. "gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. no one's gonna say shit about our family, huh? 'cause i won't let 'em."

your cunt clenches up so nicely with every comment he makes that atsumu knows he has to make all those pussydrunk promises come true.

౨ৎ TETSUROU KUROO

the tabloids are posting: paparazzi photos of you — the socialite daughter of the man who owns the msby black jackals, and jva's promotion division's golden boy, tetsurou kuroo. it's late at night, and the two of you are clearly leaving a party celebrating the success of another eventful volleyball season. you're wearing the iconic ysl heels with a black mini-dress that honestly should be called a micro-dress. your hair is a mess, you're walking like your knees are struggling not to wobble, and walking three steps behind you despite his longer stride is kuroo; his tie is crooked, his cheeks are flushed, and he has a grin that says something like i just fucked one of the richest bratty heiresses in japan, and i left her wanting more. the amount of blind items that are allegedly alluding to you and kuroo are being spread all over tiktok. one reads, "this sports club heiress was seen exiting a party with this semi-known marketing mastermind who works in the sports industry. apparently, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and no one can recall seeing them together during the party; everyone only caught glimpses of them running away from the festivities together."

you posted: a photo slideshow on instagram of your absolutely iconic outfit from the party, only these photos were clearly taken before the party. your hair is done, your makeup is perfect, and your caption states don't believe everything you read. the last slide is a screenshot of an online headline speculating about your "new man" with a photo of a grinning kuroo from that night. the reason why this makes everyone go insane is because you're no stranger to a scandal — this is, however, the first time you've ever addressed a headline.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"hurry up," you hiss, your eyes darting from left to right as you make sure no one is nowhere near the secluded corridor kuroo somehow managed to find.

"y'know, i thought girls were supposed to like guys who don't blow their loads prematurely." even when he's bullying his cock into your slicked up cunt, savoring the way your sensitive walls are clenching around his dick, tetsurou has a very annoying habit of still sounding entirely in control. for someone who can't keep his hands to himself when it comes to you, he's irritatingly great at playing nonchalant.

but he's just a man, after all. he might tower over you, his large body shielding you from any prying eyes, and he might know your body so well that he can bring you to completion twice (once with his fingers curling against that special spot of yours, and another one so rudely wrung out from you when he slid his cock in your orgasm-recovering, overly sensitive pussy) in just the fifteen minutes he's been toying with you tonight, but you know that he must be feeling something. you saw him shift his pants the moment his eyes met yours from across the room, when his eyes travelled down your body and followed the way your dress emphasized the curvatures of your body.

"if you don't finish right now, i'm not going to let you cum inside." you threaten him, trying to steady your voice as you bite back a moan. it'd be a major issue if the two of you got caught, with the volleyball association's golden boy being buried balls-deep inside a sports team owner's bratty daughter.

with every sharp snap of his hips, kuroo is only forcing more slick to come gushing out of your pussy. he can't even take the time to admire the white ring you left around his cock; he's too focused on chasing after his release because he didn't get to where he's at by not being opportunistic.

"if i cum inside, you have to keep it in your panties the whole night. you wouldn't want that, would you?" he sounds a little breathless now, his pace quickening as his thrusts get sloppier. he's smiling at you, that damn annoying smile that makes you want to roll your eyes or insult him. but your body betrays you. his grin only widens when your pussy tightens up at the idea of having his cum soaking in your panties while you interact with people at this party. a dirty little secret shared only between you two.

he lets out a breathy chuckle at your body's betrayal. "okay, princess. since you want it so badly, i guess i better give it to you."

you could practically cum again the minute you feel the warmth of him finishing inside of you. you're a spoiled brat who gets what she wants, and while you refuse to admit it, you want him. all of him.

and he's going to give it to you.

౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

the media is going crazy over: the fact that ushijima is the type of person who doesn't clarify anything because he just assumes that everyone can read his mind. he's blunt, sure, but he's not really the type who does much explaining. after the first game of the season, an interviewer asks him if he enjoyed spending the off-season with you, his girlfriend and one of the most beloved, fan-favorite WAGs of all time. ushijima stares straight into the camera as he states in his usual deep, flat rumble of a voice, "the off-season was successful, but she isn't my girlfriend anymore. thank you." and then he just walks off, like he didn't just drop the most insane piece of information ever?

he posted: a photo of an ultrasound that was clearly taken out of his wallet since it's thrown on the table in the background. he's holding it in his left hand, and the overhead lighting is reflected from the silver wedding band he's wearing. now that he's off the court, he's able to wear it. in typical ushijima fashion, there is no caption, but a picture is worth a thousand words. you're not his girlfriend. you're his wife, and soon to be mother of his child.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"mmph — 'toshi!" you squeal out, your calves burning from the stretch as your beloved wakatoshi has your legs bent and spread for him. he's just so big that you'd never be able to handle all of him, and yet, here you are, bent into a mating press every night since the two of you have gotten married. you try to beg him to slow down, but words escape you as he buries himself into your pussy, letting out a deep, guttural groan as the warmth of your cunt coats his cock. there's no better feeling than this.

even if you could request for him to slow down, it wouldn't have mattered or made much of a difference. your husband has a one-track mind. when wakatoshi is set on a goal, it's hard to break his focus until he sees it to the end. and right now, wakatoshi's goal is to fuck a baby into you, to see you round with life because of the seeds he planted.

he's hunched over you, abs tightening and flexing with every sharp inhale of breath he takes. he's gonna fuck himself empty, going to keep filling your cunt with his seed 'til he's shooting blanks. his eyes glance at the ring he put on your finger before returning to admire your blissful expression and the way your body seems to have gone boneless from all the fucking he's had you endure.

"just a little bit longer." he manages to say, before forcing his cock in even deeper. "just have to make sure it takes."

౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA

everyone is claiming: long distance relationships never last. when oikawa makes the shocking announcement that he is no longer a japanese citizen, everyone immediately wondered what that meant for the future of your relationship. does that mean it's over? officially? if oikawa is leaving behind his hometown, then by default, is he leaving you behind too?

he posted: a photo slideshow, only most of the images were clearly taken by you. the first one is of him driving; the two of you are in his convertible, and he's wearing a white button down with most of the buttons undone. on the stark white of the shirt are kiss marks; the imprint of your lips lined with cherry-red lipstick are all over the material of his shirt and on his freshly-tanned skin. the other photos are of what you two ate for dinner, the sunset from the beach, and a selfie of you two looking more in love than ever. fans are quick to point out the massive hickey on your neck, and tooru tags you in a reply to the top comment that points it out, and he's saying "you missed a spot babe." you reply back, "i ran out of concealer because you gave me too many to cover"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"i missed you," your boyfriend mumbles into your soft skin. tooru can get so clingy when he goes long periods without seeing you, and you indulge him because he's tooru. he's got his face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his breath is warm against your skin as he speaks.

"everyone is saying i'm abandoning you, but that's not true." he whines.

"i know, baby. i don't care." you laugh softly, absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of his hair. he settles into you, and it's almost sweet, until he starts nipping at your skin.

"tooru, what are you doing?" you can't find it in yourself to chastise him too harshly, but you do have to restrain yourself from pulling back.

"jus' want to show everyone that you're still my girl." he peers up at you, licking his lips. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"

tooru bites and sucks at your skin, sharp canines grazing your soft flesh. he sucks at your most sensitive areas while he works his fingers in and out of your gushing cunt. when he pulls his fingers out and holds them up, so the sunlight can shine and really highlight how much of your juices is coating his digits, he smiles. his girl gets this wet just from him marking you up?

as he sucks on his fingers, relishing in the way you taste, he can't help but be happy to know that no matter how far away the two of you are from each other (for now), you're still his girl.

౨ৎ RINTAROU SUNA

your fans are telling you: suna doesn't care about you. suna doesn't put forth any effort into your relationship. suna literally streams on twitch during the off-season yet he can't seem to ever post you?? suna doesn't deserve you. suna—

suna is a lot of things, but nothing like the deadbeat, ashamed boyfriend allegations. in fact, all your well-meaning fans are so far off on how he treats you that you and him get a good laugh from the outrageous conclusions they've jumped to.

you posted: a photo of rintarou with his head on your lap, and you've got your fingers playing with his hair. it's a sweet photo, really. except for the fact that you decided to pair it with an audio that's a snippet of a song that goes "he's so pretty when he goes down on me" and a caption that reads this song is so relatable 🤍

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

anyone who thinks rintarou is a selfish lover, a lazy lover, someone who merely tolerates you or is ashamed to be with you... they clearly don't know either of you very well.

because even when he's exhausted from practice, rintarou comes home craving you. craving your sweetness, your warmth, your love — and your pussy. he's obsessed. rintarou suna loves to eat you out, and he does it with such passion, such enthusiasm, that it's hard to refuse him, even if he's been going at it for the past hour.

your juices are leaving a stain on the bedsheets, and your slick is coating your inner thighs. it doesn't help that rintarou is messy with his technique. he needs your legs spread for him, granting him easy access for him to just dig in. he's still in his practice jersey, and when he feels your grip loosening from the strands of hair you're tugging at, he'll slow down his pace, calming down to just tiny kitten licks while he peers up at you.

your head is thrown back in pleasure, and your hips have a mind of their own as they still jut forward, as if trying to bring your cunt impossibly closer to him. no need for that, really, seeing as how he craves to bury himself in your warmth, to suck on your cute little clit and have you humming all over his tongue.

"rinnie." you whine out, still subconsciously bucking up your hips. he smiles before resuming his original ministrations, gluttonous and greedy with how sloppy and hungry he is with you. if you're still capable of talking, then you're not too fucked out to not allow him to get his fill.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #tobio kageyama x reader #kageyama smut #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu smut #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #rintarou suna x reader #suna smut #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons

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d1stalker · 30 days

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All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby

----

You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of.

But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.

Everyone, except for you.

Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.

And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.

Logan Howlett.

You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.

You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.

Jean Grey.

She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart.

You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.

It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.

Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it.

The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory.

Logan was never the same after that.

—

You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.

As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.

Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.

It’s Logan.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back.

You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted.

But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.

Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-

You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.

You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.

Brown.

You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.

Why him? Why me? Why now?

You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.

The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.

Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.

It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.

Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward.

The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.

Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”

“Logan, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”

He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”

His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”

The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over.

After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.

You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.

—

When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.

If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.

You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another?

You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no–you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again.

And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?

—

Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.

His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone.

Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction.

It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.

But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him.

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office.

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.

“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does.

“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”

You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered.

“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”

The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?

“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”

Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts.

“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist.

Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”

The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”

“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”

Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”

“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it. “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”

He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.

“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”

So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.

The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.

Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.

The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights.

You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.

You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions.

But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.

One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.

However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights.

His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that— before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react.

Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this.

Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care?

Because you are the only one who does care.

You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.

—

It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer.

That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan.

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown.

Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up.

“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.

Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”

In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest

“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.

Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak.

Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you.

You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall.

“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.

Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.

Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate?

It’s not fair.

You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”

“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.

“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.

“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”

“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”

“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”

With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”

You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”

He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”

The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”

He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”

You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”

He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”

Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”

“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”

“What if it just makes things worse?”

“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”

You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”

“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.

With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.

You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.

Goddamn it.

You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.

Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock.

There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.

The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.

“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”

He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”

You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.

“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”

His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”

“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”

He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

His words hurt.

“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”

A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.”

“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”

You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him

“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”

You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”

Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”

Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection.

“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”

What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.

That’s when it really hits you.

Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start.

You give up.

This time, it is you who turns your back on him.

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.

—

You decide to go on the mission.

It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief.

The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.

Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.

“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”

Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze. “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”

“I promise,” you assure.

She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out.

“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”

You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze.

“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”

Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express.

It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport.

��

When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.

The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.

You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.

Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.

He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.

As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.

One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”

You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”

His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”

A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”

—

Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.

His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone.

In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.

This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.

Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.

“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.

Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”

Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”

Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost.

Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”

Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.

“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”

Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real.

“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”

The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back.

There’s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.

Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”

Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.

The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.

But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.

—

You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants.

But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.

It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.

“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”

You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.

Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.

Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.

Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”

The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.

“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”

You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak.

“You won’t get away with this,” you say.

“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”

With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.

You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold.

Location: Florence.

Message: Help.

Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.

His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”

Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.

Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you.

You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.

—

The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room, and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device.

Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.

Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”

There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement.

Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.

“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest.

“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”

“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”

The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink.

“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.

“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”

There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.

Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”

Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”

The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.

Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”

“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”

Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”

Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”

—

Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.

And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”

You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.

He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”

Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.

“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”

He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”

Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.

The X-Men have arrived.

Marco’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”

The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use.

Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.

But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.

In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.

Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving.

And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze.

—

Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.

Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.

His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.

You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.

More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.

Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well.

For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words.

You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.

Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him.

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”

You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit.

There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”

“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.

“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”

—

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.

But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.

It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.

In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.

Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.

It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.

And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.

He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?

At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.

But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.

After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.

You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.

And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.

He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.

So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.

He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months—his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.

"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.

"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”

You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."

That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.

"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."

You nod. "Okay."

Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.

—

The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.

You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.

With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.

With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.

One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.

“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”

Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”

Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”

—

It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.

During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.

After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.

Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”

Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”

Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”

Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”

More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.

“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”

And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.

—

“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.

Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”

You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”

His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”

You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you.

You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown.

His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”

You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.

This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.

That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely.

And that makes all the difference.

----

a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual

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jupiterjames · 2 years

Text

Did I just employ the "Treat Them Like You are A Kindergarten Teacher Again" method with my insurance company today? I surely did. Did it work? Probably better than intended because I made an actual doctor feel contrite.

So, my insurance has been trying to not cover my SNRI because it is new on the market and no generic available yet, so pricey.

I apply for a refill and the request gets locked for review. Again. For the 3rd time.

This time I call and immediately ask to speak to the actual doctor making these clinical decisions. Very politely. Must be a slow day because they allow it.

ME: [Teacher voice] I'm calling in regards to the SNRI you have placed a lock on. Why was this decision made?

DOC: Well, there are dozens of other medications on the market in that tier, and far cheaper for you and [insurer]. We have sent a request to your doctor to consider alternatives.

ME: I am aware of that. So, can you do me a HUGE favor and look up my prescription history really quickly and tell me how many SSRIs and SNRIs were only filled once in 2022 for me, showing they were poorly tolerated?

DOC: It looks like eight.

ME: Great job! Now, can you please look at my genetic test for psychiatric drug tolerance and tell me how many medications are listed in the safe category?

DOC: Two.

ME: Awesome! Now, can you tell me what type that other drug is that I'm not taking?

DOC: Yeah, totally, it's an MAOI.

ME: That's correct, you're really knowledgeable! Should I be taking something as dangerous as an MAOI with my other medications, or even just in general?

DOC: It's contraindicated for sure.

ME: It is! So true! So, last question since you've been incredibly smart and helpful. Is it less expensive for [insurer] to pay out for the medication knowing they already get a huge manufacturer discount anyway, or is it more expensive for them to pay for me to need potentially long-term inpatient psychiatric care?

DOC: I'll clear the code, ma'am and flag it as medically necessary. I'm sorry about this.

ME: I appreciate you SO MUCH. You have a great day now.

WALGREENS PHARMACY TECH WITH 5 NOSE RINGS AND PURPLE HAIR STARING AT ME: ........... OKAY! It'll be ready in five minutes. You wanna come work here?

#JJ does things

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uzurakis · 4 months

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hii! could you please do like after a really big argument it like gets to the point that the reader wants to break up with then and how they would handle it? i just request that choso is one of them<3

WANT US TO BREAK UP, YOU SAY?

featuring: choso kamo. gojo satoru. nanami kento. fushiguro megumi.

n. hi nonnie! thanku for the req. i usually don't write for choso, this is the first time i'm writing for him, i hope it doesn't stray out of his character. confession: i didnt proofread so.. enjoy </3

GOJO SATORU

the room was heavy with silence after your heated argument. you stood near the desk, arms crossed, emotions swirling. as for him, gojo leaned against the wall, his sunglasses off, revealing eyes that bore into you with a mix of frustration.

"this isn't working, satoru," you fidgeted your nails and shifted your feet. "i think we should break up."

he pushed off the wall, taking a step closer to you. "hell no," he said firmly, those blue eyes you know so well never leaving yours. "i'm not letting that happen."

you clenched your fists, anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. "you can't just decide that for me. we’ve been fighting constantly, and it’s exhausting.”

the man crossed the room in a few quick strides, stopping just in front of you. "we're not breaking up," he repeated, voice low and steady. "you're upset, i'm mad, and we had a fight, but that doesn't mean we break up."

tears welled up in your eyes as you met his gaze. "you don't get it, satoru. i can't keep doing this.”

he reached out, his hand gently but firmly grasping your wrist. "you’re not leaving," he said, his tone softening but still commanding. "we can fix this. together."

you tried to pull away, but his grip held you in place. "toru, this isn't just about one fight.” then his grip changed into him interlocking his fingers with you. “we keep hurting each other…”

his expression softened, but his grip remained steady. "i know, and i'm sorry, darling. but running away won't solve anything. i love you, and i'm willing to fight for us."

NANAMI KENTO

nanami’s expression remained calm, but you could see the tension in his eyes. he took a deep breath and walked over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. “please, sit down,” he said softly, gesturing to the couch. “we need to talk about this calmly.”

you hesitated, still seething with emotion, but his gentle tone made you relent. you sat down, crossing your arms defensively. nanami sat beside you, maintaining a respectful distance but close enough to show he was there for you.

“why do you want to break up?” he asked, his voice steady and soothing.

“like i said,” stating once again. unlike his, your voice cracked. “i feel like we don't have time for each other, not like we used to.”

he nodded, listening intently. “i understand,” he said, his tone even. “but breaking up isn’t the solution, sweetheart. we need to address it.”

nanami reached out, taking your hand in his. his touch was warm and reassuring. “every relationship has its challenges,” he said gently. “what matters is how we handle them. i believe we can work through this if we’re both willing to try.”

CHOSO KAMO

his eyes widened in shock, and before you could react, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you. his embrace was firm yet gentle, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart. “please, don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. “you can’t just say that, baby.”

you struggled against his hold, tears streaming down your face. “choso, don’t hold me back..”

he held you tighter, saying soothing words despite the urgency. “i know it’s been hard for both of us, but never say that, i don't want to hear you say that again.”

feeling the warmth and genuineness of his embrace, you drew in a shaky breath and found yourself losing resolve. “i just, i don’t know what to do with us.” your voice breaking.

choso loosened his hold just enough to meet your gaze, his love and concern visible in his eyes. “every relationship has its struggles, but i'm sure we both can overcome them. i love you, and i’m committed to working through this with you. so please, i dont want to give up on us yet."

he gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. “i’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. are you?”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

your boyfriend’s shocked eyes became wider. “what? no!” he took a step forward, expressing a mix of disbelief and urgency. “that’s not how you solve this problem.”

with a hand raked through his hair, he was clearly frustrated. "i understand that we've been fighting a lot, but splitting up isn't the answer. we have to discuss our concerns and work towards–”

“i’m fucking trying, okay?” you hurried to cut his explanation. “you always have a logical answer for everything,” biting your lower lip, is he seeing that you don't need reasoned answers? but simply, perhaps some reassurance? “but it doesn’t change how i feel. it hurts, and i don’t see a way out of this.”

megumi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “i’m sorry.”

“…”

“look, i need you to hear me,”

“i don’t want to fight either, heck, i’m too tired to argue,” he gently pulled you into an embrace. “but i don’t want to lose you. i can't promise you, but we can find a way to make this better."

"let’s be patient and work through our problems one step at a time.”

@uzurakis

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poohsources · 4 months

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🐝 * ― 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻.

send 🚢 or ( 'SHIP' ) if you ever considered shipping our characters romantically and want me to fill out the following form for our muses. bold all that definitely applies, italicize what could potentially apply. feel free to add more if you think certain options are missing or you just want to add more.

do i ship our characters together?: yes | no | not yet but maybe soon

would i like to ship with you?: yes | maybe, i'm willing to try | no

would i rather plot first or jump right in and see where it goes?: develop their relationship first | jump right in | something in between ( what specifically? )

what now?: let's plot something | send me shippy memes | i'll send you shippy memes | write me a random starter | i'll write you a random starter

anything else i want you to know about me / my character / my shipping habits: ( put whatever you want here )

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #relationship meme #shippy meme #rph #type: meme

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occudo · 13 days

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An incomplete list of TMA fics I adore

-beacuse of this ask

(If you liked the fics I previously recommended/made fanart for, I think you'll gonna like these as well, but you know, read the tags, know what you are going into)

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey @cirrus-grey

Time Travel Fix-it! Slow burn! So good! So much sass from future!Jon- I doubt I have to introduce anyone this amazing author, but if you somehow missed them till now, this is your time! I highly recommend all of their other fics as well, for example one of a more recent one, The Stranger I Know Best is also a lovely read.

enthralling by Prim_the_Amazing @primtheamazing

Vampire!Martin!! I have no words of how much I love this concept, this story, everything about this. I think I'm going to repeat myself through this list, but I also recommend everything else they've written!

to fill... my heart with music? by godshaper @godshaper so their Martin and Jon design are different from mine, also they made a way better art for this- but still, I wanted to include this really good fic in this list.

Do It All Anew by inkfingers_mcgee or @crit20art

You know the feeling when you read a book that makes you cry, and after that you recommend it to your friend? Well- there is no reason I mentioned this, I'm just so normal about this fic. Or any other fic from inkfingers_mcgee... like Strange Manner of what I made another fanart way back. Also, check out their art!

Anyway, here is Aamal- she is not going to cause emotional damage.

And they were sidekicks (oh my god, they were sidekicks) by arthureameslove @arthureameslove

A lighthearted series where Jon and Martin are sidekicks of supervillains- it's just a really fun fic, also recommend everyting from this author - I previously draw fanart here for an other fic of theirs Like a Lighthouse, Call Me Home

neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well by saintbleeding @saintbleeding

To quote the aurthour: "Post-divorce Jon and Martin in a wedding-based romcom" It's such a comfort read, also has a Tim/Sasha wedding, and lots of cameos! I realised most of these authors I made fanarts for before- like this one for some kind of miraculous bind, this one is oneshot and a bit more serious in tone.

Give Me the Words by rakel @rakel-on-ao3

"Jon and Martin try to make the most of a bad situation in the Scottish Highlands. The situation is worse than they realised." You know that one post about wanting to write PWP, but it keeps turning into character study? Well, this one comes to my mind each time I see that.

i wanna find a home (i wanna share it with you) by heartshapedguy @transgenderboobs

So what would have happened if instead of the cot (tm), Jon offered Martin his own flat to stay? There is no way it's going to change their relationship, right? Such a good read, if you want some fluff, I highly recommend it!

Lucky Stars by magnetarmadda @magnetarmadda

Martin has a lovely family (except his mother) but still, he needs a fake boyfriend, and Jon comes to the rescue. It's one of the first fics I remember reading after I finished the series. It is such a comfort read of mine~

(+enjoy a rare tall Jon from me)

There are so many more fics that also deserve the spotlight, these are just the ones I read multiple times and/or didn't made fanarts for before. If you find something here you like, give them some love! Kudos and comments! They deserve it. (Also, just an extra disclamier some of these are PWP or rated T- just mind the tags)

I tried to link and tag everything, I hope it works.

#occudo's art #tma fanart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #fic rec #so many fic!#thanks for every author who made all of these #and sorry if I forgot to include someone #I tried my best #but sometimes my goldfish memory wins #anyway #good reading!#if you find something here you like give them some love #comments and kudos #long post

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strawberriianime · 5 months

Text

Cream

♡ JJK men cumming inside

♡ satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, choso, sukuna.

♡ cw: 18+ themes, descriptions of sex, creampies, breeding kink if you squint, unprotected sex, degradation if you think hard (Sukuna)

✰ Satoru Gojo

"Fuck"

A roll of sweat rolls down the side of his face as he grips the headboard, pounding into you at a steady pace. The room was filled with the constant squeak of the bed accompanied by your sweet moans. "Baby you feel so good" He closes his eyes attempting to push back his own release, making sure to satisfy you to the fullest. "So good. So So So good" you moan out. "Ah, fuck baby I'm gonna cum I-I can't hold back anymore." His grip tightened on the headboard knucked turning a slight hue of red. "I want you to cum inside" his thrust got sloppy hearing your words. "You're not on the p-" "I know" As if a switch flipped in his brain he began pounding into you roughly. "Gonna fill you up so well". "Fu--Fuck gonna fill you with all of my babies" With a final thrust, you felt his warm seed fill you as he collapses onto your chest. "I love you".

✰ Suguru Geto

His long dark hair tickled your chin as you held his body close to yours, nails scratching at his back slightly as you let out low moans into his ear. “Fuck you feel so good” he groaned tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. “It’s like you’re sucking me in” his hips snaps into yours once more hitting that spot that causes you to let out a sultry moan. “Gonna fill you up nice and good hmm? How does that sound?” his pace sped up pumping into you at a newly found speed. You claw at his back once more, feeling your release start to build up. You can tell by the broken pace he was in the verge of orgasming as well. “Shit…” You feel his warm seed filling you insides, some leaking out onto the black sheets of the bed. The room was silent for a minute only being filled with heavy breathing from the both of you. “Don’t think we’re done just yet” It’s going to be a long night.

✰ Nanami Kento

Your arms wrapped around the blonde's neck pulling him closer, placing a sweet passionate kiss on his lips. You felt his tongue swipe at your bottom lip causing you to part them allowing him to explore your mouth. His smooth hands found their way to your hips pulling up the thin material of the slip you had worn. Breaking the kiss, he shuffled his pants down, allowing them to hit the floor. He lined himself up at your entrance, peppering small kisses along your collarbone before pushing himself in. Your back arched slightly at the newly found feeling as you let out a low groan. “My love …you feel so good.” He sat at a steady pace causing you to wrap your legs around his waist pushing him deeper into you. “Baby you must want me to cum deep inside you.” His words caused you to squeeze him slightly causing him to let out a deep moan. “You’d like that huh? Being stuffed with my cum.” “You better not let a single drop spill”

✰ Toji Fushiguro

“Fuck. Just like that”

You placed your hands on his broad chest to keep a steady rhythm as you bounced up and down his dick. “You’re gonna milk me dry” he watched as you eagerly rode him, dick slick with your juices causing every snap to release a squelching sound. He sat p slightly, as you began rolling your hips his rough hands coming to meet your hips to push you down further. “You’re working hard for my cum hm?” You placed your hands on his shoulders for more stability as you matched the new pace he had set. "You want me to fill you up huh? You want to give me a second kid huh?" His words caused you to clench down on him as he let out a slow moan. "Damn, baby the way you're gripping on me you're gonna make me cum now." Your movements became more unstable as his grip on your hips tightened, ensuring to leave bruises the next day. "Fuck I'm gonna cum, you ride dick too good." "Gonna breed this pussy." He spewed as his thick cum filled your hole covering every inch of your walls.

✰ Choso

"Baby please"

His whimpers filled the room as he pushed into you raw for the first time, trembling at the newly found sensation of your gum walls clamping around his bare dick. "Babe it's okay, I want you to cum inside," you reassured him stroking the side of his face, a red flush trailing on his pale face. It was common for you both to use condoms but since you suggested he take it off, he was comfortable doing so. He continued to slowly move his hips, slowly stroking your insides as you let out a satisfied moan. You pressed your hands to his lower back, signaling him that you wanted him to go even deeper inside of you. He paused himself further as the tip of his dick pushed into your spongy walls. He felt you shudder under him as he pumped in and out, hitting your g-spot causing you to let out an array of moans each louder than the previous. "I'm so close, I'm gonna cum" you moaned out nails scratching at his back. He felt his own release building up as you pulsated around his dick walls tightening. "Ah I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum inside I-" he sighed feeling his own cum mixed with your own. You slowly began gathering your breath before feeling the moment once more. "Can't let any of my cum spill out" he said pumping into you again sensitive walls fluttering.

✰ Sukuna Ryomen

"You're such a dirty little slut"

You could barely hear him as the room was filled with the loud creak of your bed combined with your loud moans. He was fucking you roughly from the back as you clawed at the red bedsheets that had half fallen onto the floor. You felt his sharp nails clap at your hips, drawing blood slightly. "You're a fine little concubine" he smirked watching your ass jiggle with each thrust of his hips, dick glistening with your juices. You felt him push your back slightly, signaling you to deepen your arch. You followed as you felt him push into you deeper making you cry out moaning. "You like that huh dirty bitch." he sharpened his thrust pounding into you at a rougher pace. "You don't deserve my cum, I want you to beg like the bitch you are" he slowed slightly causing you to whimper. "Please...." "Please Sukuna I want your cum please cum inside" he slammed back into you making you scream and claw at the sheets once more. With another rough thrust, you felt his hot sticky cum fill your insides causing you to let out a sultry moan.

#idk if this good but #sukuna ryomen #gojo saturo #suguru geto #satorugojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ayeteen plus #anime smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso #nanami kento #gojo smut #geto smut #sukuna smut #choso x reader #jjk x reader #A BILLION HITS

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ssunnysdream · 5 months

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big tits reader

🧷 NSFW (18+ minors dni), afab reader, reader has big tits, consensual sex, titfucking (sampo), nipple play (sunday, kaveh), nipple piercing (wriothesley), cuming on tits (wriothesley), they are basically all obssessed with you oops ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა

–‧˚꒰💌꒱༘⋆ 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

"No matter how many times I fucked you, you're still as tight as ever baby... I love your pussy, could spend hours taking care of it" Aventurine's breath is hot, his hips stuttering as you clench around his lenght. "And don't get me started on your breasts..." he moves back from your neck to look down at your bouncing tits, flushed and covered with lovebites. "They're yours to use", you murmur softly as you know Aventurine is obssessed with them. "That's right, all mine." He eagerly grabs your legs, bending you in half, fucking you deeper and harder. He fondles your tits all the while fucking the shit out you, whispering the nastiest words into your ear.

–‧˚꒰💌꒱༘⋆ 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐎

"Here you go, you're doing such a nice job for Sampo. I will reward you well, you won't be disappointed", Sampo chuckles breathlessly as he stares down to watch you squeeze his cock between your tits. "You better keep that promise this time", you mumble before squeezing his lenght tighter, earning a surprised gasp from Sampo. Before he could reply something back, you slowly open your shiny lips and swallow his flushed tip, swirling your warm tongue over it to collect all of his salty precum. Sighing in pleasure, you suck the tip all the while working his cock up and down between your tits. Sampo hisses but he simply tightens his grip on your hair, encouraging you for more. And how could you refuse ?

–‧˚꒰💌꒱༘⋆ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

"M-mh fuck... this feeling is delightful my dear", Sunday is struggling to keep his composure as you ride him into oblivion. What's even harder for him is to keep his cool from the sight of your tits bouncing up and down. The urge to grope, to pinch, to lick... Sunday can't stare away, those sinful thoughts leading him to attach his lips on one of your nipple as the other makes its way to grab your breast. The sudden sparks of pleasure is making you slow down, shivers running all over your body. You flush as Sunday stares up at you, "Dearest, why did you stop ? Keep riding me as I take care of your pretty nipples." You oblige, rising your hips up and down over Sunday's cock, his moans muffled as he keeps on nibbling your nipples desperately.

–‧˚꒰💌꒱༘⋆ 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

"You're gonna be the death of me I swear", Kaveh takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer to admire what you're offering him. Your breasts are covered with a lovely lacy bra, the fabric embracing your clevage and making it look perkier. Kaveh's cock twitches at the thought of gropping them as he fucks you nice and deep. You let out a tiny sob as he lazily traces some patterns over your bra with his skilled tongue, paying more attention to your nipples poking through the thin fabric. Kaveh looks out of it already, eyes filled with arousal and mouth slacked. You widen your legs, giving him more space as he pulls down your bra, your tits on full display for him. "I'm so hard for you baby, feel that ?" Kaveh grinds his covered cock against your pussy. "Got hard just looking at them", he groans as you roll your hips up against him, ready to make him cum just like this.

–‧˚꒰💌꒱༘⋆ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

Pupils blowed with lust, Wriothesley can't hold back his grunts when all he can focus on his your nipple piercings. The cute jewels making your tits even more gorgeous. And to Wriothesley, it makes them sexier. "Look at you, you're loving this uh ?" he says lowly, twisting your pierced nipple and watching you squirm over his lap. His thick cock streching you open is overwhelming, but so is the constant tug on your perky nipples. "I'm gonna fuck you properly now. Be good for me and pinch them as I destroy that pretty pussy of yours". Your arousal is clearly messing Wriothesley's thighs but he doesn't seem to care as he keeps bouncing you up and down on his lenght, manhandling you like you weight nothing. It soon becomes too much, Wriothesley's cock twitches and he quickly pulls out and pumps his cock over your chest until hot cum spills all over you.

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #sampo smut #sampo x reader #sunday smut #sunday x reader #kaveh smut #kaveh x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader

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yanwonnies · 1 month

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ꜜ : 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ﹙ 엔하이픈 ! ﹚

↝ How ENHYPEN reacts when his cute member refuses/avoids their kisses?

⠇↴ Pairings: poly!ot7 x added member!reader ⠇↴ Words: 12.0K

Warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ suggestive (except for the ni-ki part), lots of kisses (again…),neck kisses, desperate!Heeseung, domestic!jay as well as possessive!jay, throat grabbing (p.js part), Special guest!Layla (s.jy part), Jealous!Jake, a little bit mean!sunghoon, allusion to shower sex (p.sh part), a little angst (k.sw part), soft comfort (k.sw part), changing in front of each other (k.sw part), a little insecure! Jungwon

Wonnie’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ Okay, honestly, after writing this, I can't stop thinking about Sunghoon's and sunoo's, they got me like 🫠🫠. ni-ki's one has me kicking my feet 🤭, I found it more cute than i imagined. Again, English is not my first language, so I'm sorry if there are misprints or if lose the sense in some parts. thank you very much for taking the time to read my work. ᵔᴗᵔ

˖ ࣪ › Lee Heeseung ー 이희승

In the studio's bustling dressing room, the members of ENHYPEN were preparing for their upcoming performance. The space, filled with bright lights and reflections, was permeated with an organized frenzy. Makeup artists and hair stylists, moved with precision, making sure every detail was perfect for the show.

Heeseung, sitting in a high chair in front of a mirror that reflected the buzz around him, watched everything with apparent calm. His face, transformed by flawless makeup, looked even more beautiful under the dressing room lights. A light touch of gloss on his lips made them stand out subtly but effectively, adding a touch of magic to his already captivating appearance.

As the team worked around him, Heeseung tried to keep his concentration on his own preparations, but his thoughts were constantly diverted by a presence he couldn't ignore. Out of all the movements and conversations, your lips, glistening with lip gloss, captured his full attention. It was a fleeting flash at first, but quickly became a fixation.

Your lips glistened under the dressing room lights, reflecting each beam with a tantalizing sparkle. It was as if every particle of glitter was designed to catch Heeseung's gaze. The colors seemed to change with every little movement you made, from a subtle pink to an almost silvery sparkle, creating mesmerizing highlights and shadows.

Heeseung felt time slow down as his eyes followed every movement of your lips. His focus was narrowed solely on that small but fascinating part of you. Every time you moved your mouth slightly, Heeseung felt an almost magnetic attraction. It was as if those lips were a magnet, and he couldn't help but be drawn to them.

Then, when the team of stylists and makeup artists were distracted for a moment, Heeseung saw his chance. With deliberately leisurely movements, he rose from his chair. He approached you with calculated slowness, avoiding making as little noise as possible, as if every step had to be measured and perfect. When he reached your side, he carefully positioned himself behind you.

His presence was unmistakably warm and comforting. The proximity of his body, the warmth emanating from him, was a refuge amidst the chaos of the dressing room. With an almost reverent gentleness, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you from behind. The embrace, though unexpected, was a mixture of tenderness and protection that seemed to offer a brief respite in the maelstrom that surrounded you.

Feeling him close, you raised a hand and gently caressed his head. Your fingernails gently brushed his hair. Slowly moving your head, you turned to look at him. His eyes, which were normally serene, were now filled with hunger. Looking at you with intensity, he tried to move even closer, his lips just inches from yours. The tension in the air was almost palpable, charged with the promise of forbidden contact.

But before his lips could touch yours, you gently pulled away, a smile full of tenderness and concern on your face. -We can't -you whispered, your words a soft murmur that only he could hear -You're going to ruin the makeup, and stylist-unnie is going to be mad

Heeseung pouted, his expression changing to one of obvious disappointment and moodiness. With a resigned sigh, he turned away from you, crossing his arms and shooting you furtive glances as he plopped down in a nearby chair. At that moment, Ni-ki, came over to you and settled into your lap. Ni-ki's body, much bigger than yours, was surprisingly warm and comforting, especially when he felt half asleep. You smiled at the scene and began to stroke his hair tenderly. As your fingers moved gently through his hair, he seemed to relax even more, enjoying this small indulgence.

In the midst of this peaceful scene, Heeseung, who had been at a distance, shared a glance with you. However, his attention again was not on your face, but on your lips.

You smiled softly, a gesture that conveyed a mixture of complicity and affection. Without looking away, you sent a small flying kiss across the room. The gesture, though simple, was charged with a cuteness that seemed to cross the distance between you with delightful efficiency.

Heeseung, picking up on the subtlety of the gesture, experienced a visible reaction. His face became tinged with a subtle blush, a change that contrasted sharply with his usual confidence. His skin, normally so controlled, now showed a slight redness extending from his cheeks to the base of his ears. He looked away with an almost imperceptible movement, his eyes trying to escape eye contact, seeking refuge on the dressing room floor.

Later, after a successful performance, Heeseung didn't waste a second. Taking you by the hand with palpable determination, he dragged you into a small cleaning room nearby. He closed the door behind you with a dry click, isolating you in the gloom of the room.

Without a word, he moved in quickly and pushed you gently against the wall. The contact was immediate and enveloping; the coldness of the wall against your back contrasted with the warmth of his body. The proximity was so intense that the air between you seemed charged with electricity.

His lips met yours in a desperate kiss. The pressure of his grip was firm, almost as if he was trying to melt into you. You felt the warmth of his body through the fabric of your clothes, a sensation that enveloped you completely.

Your hand instinctively slid to his neck and jaw. You sought support in the solidity of her figure, your fingers finding an anchor in a warm, firm skin. As you clung to him, you felt the racing rhythm of his heart. Heeseung's tongue joined the contact, exploring with an urgency that spoke of pent-up desires built up all day.

The warmth of his breath, the wetness of his lips, and the pressure of his hands on your body created a heady combination that left you breathless.

Finally, when the two separated, the air in the room felt lighter, though charged with a residual energy. As they returned to the dressing room, the contrast between the intimacy of the small room and the noise of the dressing room was palpable. The gazes of the other ENHYPEN members rested on you with a mixture of curiosity and complicity. Heeseung, now beaming, wore a satisfied smile that lit up his face. His eyes sparkled with a mixture of joy and triumph, a reflection of the intensity of the moment he had just shared.

You, on the other hand, the blush on your cheeks still lingered, and your lips, slightly swollen from the fiery encounter, gave you an air of vulnerability that you couldn't hide. The other members of the group exchanged complicit glances, knowing without words what had happened in that small cleaning room.

˖ ࣪ › Park Jongseong ー 박종성

Jay woke up slowly, slipping into a pleasant sluggishness after a long tour. The feeling of rest spread through every corner of his body, like a warm embrace that refused to let go. His eyelids slowly lifted, allowing the first glimmers of morning light to filter through the curtains, bathing the room in a faint golden luminosity.

With a lazy movement, his hand sought the familiar warmth beside him, but touched only the cold loneliness of the empty sheets. A sigh of resignation escaped his lips, a low sound that was lost in the morning silence. Jay slowly sat up, stretching his aching body and calmly waking up before pulling on a crumpled shirt he had left on the floor.

The first impulse was to find you, the need to see your face and feel your closeness.

As he left his room, his steps were soft and cautious. The kitchen, normally a place of morning calm, was filled with soft murmurs and unusual warmth. Jay approached with stealth, his steps light and his movements measured. As he peeked through the doorway, the outside world seemed to fade away, and all that remained was the scene unfolding in front of him.

There you were, in the center of the kitchen, wrapped in Jay's huge shirt that fit you like an overflowing dress. The fabric moved gracefully around your figure, accentuating your presence in a lovely way. Your hair fell freely over your shoulders, a few strands framing your face with a natural softness.

Jungwon was hugging you from behind, his arms wrapping around you with palpable softness. He was so close to you that he seemed to melt into your body. His movements were slow and synchronized, as if he was adjusting to your every move. Your back was pressed against his chest, and you moved with him like a koala clinging to a tree.

Your every little movement was accompanied by Jungwon's slight adjustment, his arms wrapped lovingly around you. His face, partially hidden in the hollow of your neck, showed an expression of serenity and contentment. Jungwon's eyes were closed, and he seemed to be immersed in a kind of deep calm, enjoying the intimate moment.

As you moved about, concentrating on preparing something in the kitchen, the sensation of his body so close to you was a constant reminder of his presence.

The image of you, wrapped in his shirt and embraced so affectionately by Jungwon, filled his heart with a mixture of emotions, he stood there, at the threshold of the kitchen, allowing the moment to be etched in his memory.

Suddenly, Jungwon, noticing Jay's presence, raised his head and slowly turned around -Hyung -he said in a soft, friendly voice. His eyes sparkled with a spark of joy.

Your attention was redirected to Jay as you heard the greeting, and as you turned, your warm, genuine smile made Jay feel even more caught up in the moment. That smile, so pure and sincere, lighting up your face in a way that made Jay's heart beat faster.

Jay watched you closely, appreciating every detail with almost reverent attention.

-Would you like some toast? -you asked, interrupting Jay's moment of admiration with a simple, everyday offer. Jay nodded, his gaze still fixed on you as he watched you fondly.

Jungwon, with a playful smile and a glint of mischief in his eyes, leaned toward you and gave you a kiss on the cheek before rising to find the others.

Seizing the opportunity, Jay rose from the table, his movements deliberate and laden with intent. Every step he took towards you was filled with desire and a certain need to be close, to wrap you in his own hug. He walked slowly, almost as if every second stretched, building anticipation in his chest.

When he reached your side, he wrapped his arms around you. His hands, firm but gentle, were placed on your waist, feeling the warmth of your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. His touch was a constant reminder of his presence, of his desire to be near you.

The rhythm of your breathing synchronized with his, creating a bubble of calm and affection between you. Jay's proximity made you feel more aware of every little detail: the soft breath on your neck, the steady beat of his heart against your back, the way his fingers traced slow circles on your skin.

You looked at him for a few seconds, your eyes searching his, finding in them a mixture of desire and affection that made you feel even closer to him. Jay fixed his gaze on your lips, his deep dark eyes reflecting an intensity that seemed almost palpable. A mischievous smile looming on your face, playing with the anticipation of the moment.

Suddenly, when Jay leaned in to kiss you, you pulled away just in time, causing him to only press a kiss to your cheek. The fleeting contact of his lips on your skin left a warm, slightly tingling sensation spreading across your face. The surprise in his eyes quickly turned into a warning look.

-T/N -he said, his voice low and gravelly, each syllable delivered with an intensity that made you shiver. The way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes never left yours, his expression filled with a mixture of lust and playful warning.

You watched his expression with feigned innocence, your lips curving into a slight smile as you cocked your head to one side, as if you didn't really understand what was going on. -What…? -You asked, your voice soft and curious, though your eyes sparkled with mischief.

With a quick, decisive movement, his hand moved to your neck, wrapping around it firmly, but without becoming rough. The touch of his hand was a combination of softness and authority, a clear message of his desire to control the moment. You felt the pressure of his fingers on your skin, sending a current of excitement through your body.

With a gentle but firm tug, Jay pulled you to him, eliminating any space between your bodies. The force of his action left you breathless for a moment, your heart beating frantically in your chest. Jay tilted his head and captured your lips in a fierce kiss. His lips moved with an urgency that spoke of a repressed urge, a need to reclaim what he considered his own. The kiss was deep, your mouth demanding an immediate response. You felt the force of his passion in every movement, his tongue invading your mouth with a possessive familiarity.

Jay's hand on your neck kept his pressure on, controlling your movements and making sure you couldn't escape. The intensity of his kiss left you dizzy, your hands instinctively clinging to his shirt, searching for some sort of stability.

Finally, when the air became necessary, Jay pulled away slightly, his eyes still full of desire and a satisfied smile curving his lips. He looked down at you, enjoying the reaction he had provoked in you. His fingers were still gently brushing your neck, maintaining that intimate, electrifying contact. The skin on your neck burned under his touch, and you could feel the racing beat of your own heart echoing in your ears.

His warm breath caressed your skin as he murmured defiantly -Don't play with me, T/N.

Jay released his grip gently, allowing your neck to regain its freedom. Then, he calmly pulled away and sat back down at the table, his expression affirming that he had won a small victory at your own game.

˖ ࣪ › Sim Jaeyun ー 심재윤

The band members were immersed in their rehearsal, the sound of their footsteps and the synchronization of their movements creating an energetic and almost hypnotic choreography. The lights cast reflections on their concentrated faces, and sweat glistened on their foreheads as they worked their hardest.

At that moment, the door to the hall opened with an unusual creak, breaking the frantic pace of the rehearsal. The band members, used to the routine, looked up distractedly, but the real impact of the interruption came in the form of a small golden whirlwind. Layla, Jake's beloved Golden Retriever, made her triumphant entrance, her paws wagging with playful grace and her tail waving like a banner of overflowing happiness.

Time seemed to slow down for Jake as soon as he saw Layla. The impact of the sight of his loyal pet, her eyes shining and her body shaking with excitement, was so powerful that Jake froze for a brief second. On his face was a look of astonishment that soon turned into a smile of pure happiness.

Layla, detecting Jake's gaze, let out a joyful bark and her paws rushed in his direction, moving with a speed that only dogs can achieve in a state of euphoria. Jake knelt on the ground, opening his arms to receive his furry friend's affection, and Layla leapt toward him with infectious enthusiasm. The love in his eyes was evident, and he whispered loving words as he scratched behind her ears, causing Layla to wag her tail even faster.

In a corner of the room, you were resting next to Sunoo, who had found a corner on the floor to relax after an intense session. You had made yourself comfortable on the floor with Sunoo's head resting on your stomach, the warmth and quiet of the moment providing a needed respite. Sunoo had closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the calm, while you played with the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the contrast between the softness of his hair and the firmness of his body.

The cameraman, stationed in a nearby corner, was capturing the authentic essence of the band's rehearsals and daily life. However, upon seeing Layla appear, he couldn't help but capture the scene with an intrigued look. Both you and Sunoo noticed the change in the atmosphere. The sound of Layla's barking filled the room, and you both stood up at the same time, drawn by the pet's vibrant presence.

Layla ran toward you, her paws pounding the floor with a frantic rhythm. When she reached your side, she pounced on you with uncontrollable exuberance, her eyes shining with happiness.

Her licks were so fast and abundant that your face was soon covered with her wet affection. His paws stretched across your chest made you feel his light but joyful weight, and you couldn't help but laugh with that infectious laughter that seems to come from deep within the heart when one is surrounded by unconditional love. The sound of your laughter mingled with the laughter and shouts of the other band members, who, seeing the scene, joined in the chorus of joy.

Jake, who watched the scene with a mixture of fondness and concern, quickly approached you. With an affectionate but determined gesture, he tried to pull Layla away from you, concerned about the dog's overflowing enthusiasm. His hands moved carefully, seeking to balance Layla's affectionate invasion with the need to allow you to breathe and recover from the barrage of licking.

As Layla continued to insist on her display of affection, Sunghoon came over and, with an amusement-filled smile, helped you up from the floor. The scene was charged with a joyful energy, and Sunghoon's face reflected genuine amusement as he extended a hand to help you to your feet. The atmosphere in the room had transformed into a spontaneous party, with Layla performing her new role as your personal bodyguard with a dedication that bordered on the comical.

Jake, with a sigh of relief and a hint of resignation, watched Layla as she settled in next to you during breaks. He watched as Layla moved next to you with such intense fidelity that, at times, it seemed almost comical. Every time you got up or moved, Layla would get up too, wagging her tail with a mixture of enthusiasm and vigilance, as if she were your personal guardian of your every move.

From the first meeting between you and Layla, the dog had demonstrated a surprising level of protectiveness and territoriality. Whenever Jake approached for a kiss, Layla seemed to detect the intent immediately. The dog would rise with a quickness that surprised, moving between Jake and you with a playful but determined energy. Before Jake could touch your lips, Layla would intervene with an enthusiastic leap, placing her muzzle between you.

The scene repeated itself with increasing frequency, and each attempt by Jake became a kind of game between him and Layla. Jake's patience was wearing thin with each new canine kiss, and his face wore an expression that combined amusement with mild exasperation.

Finally, after two days of this unusual and comical dynamic, it was time to say goodbye. Layla had to return to Australia, and the atmosphere in the room was permeated with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. The ENHYPEN members approached the dog, petting her and bidding her a fond farewell. Jake, with a fond expression and a hint of sadness in his eyes, watched as Layla slowly walked away. The dog looked back one more time before leaving, her eyes reflecting a gleam that seemed to understand the importance of the moment.

As soon as Layla walked through the door, Jake turned to you with determination. The expression on his face was a mixture of relief and lust. Without wasting any time, he took your hand with a firmness that conveyed urgency. He guided you through the hallway with quick steps, his grip on your hand revealing a mixture of anxiousness and a need to be alone with you.

When you reached your room, the door closed with a click that echoed in the air, creating an intimate and private atmosphere. His hands, firm but loving, rested on your waist, wrapping around it with a strength that made you feel his wish to hold you close. His fingers sank into the softness of your skin, pressing you against him with a passion that made you feel his warmth and his need.

He kissed you with a desperation that seemed to release all the emotion built up over the previous days. His lips found yours with an intensity that spoke of a need to connect deeply with you. Each kiss was an expression of the need to rediscover each other without interruption.

He laid you down on the bed with a mixture of intensity and care, each movement charged with pent-up emotion. His legs tangled with yours as he leaned over you, his hands still firmly gripping your waist, as if he feared you might vanish if he moved an inch away. The sensation of being gently imprisoned against him, his chest against yours, his hands on your waist, enveloped you in a wave of warmth.

When he finally broke away, the difference between the fiery passion of his kiss and the frustration that still showed on his face made you laugh. The sound of your laughter was a mixture of relief and amusement, and the contrast between the fervor of his kiss and the blush on his cheeks was comical to you. Jake, flushed and with an expression of curiosity and mild annoyance, looked at you and asked with a touch of disbelief -Why are you laughing?

You, with a playful smile on your lips, answered him with a mischievous twinkle in your eye

-I can't believe you're jealous of your own pet.

Jake's face reddened even more, a mixture of embarrassment and affection in his eyes. With a sigh of surrender and a smile, he buried his face in your neck, leaving a trail of wet, smoldering kisses. His lips moved slowly and deliberately, each kiss on your skin was like a fiery caress that ignited a wave of pleasure. His lips explored every nook and cranny of your neck, from the base to behind your ear.

-My pet tried to steal my girlfriend.

As Jake continued to fill your neck with soft kisses, you fiddled with his hair, feeling the silky texture of his locks between your fingers. His warm breath and gentle nibbles on your skin created an electrifying sensation that spread throughout your body. The small moans of pleasure that escaped your lips were absorbed by Jake's lips, their close, burning contact stoking the desire that had been building for days.

˖ ࣪ › Park Sunghoon ー 박성훈

The living room was immersed in a deep silence, a haven of calm in the daily routine. The wall clock, with its constant ticking, marked the hour when the house was usually in its most serene state. The atmosphere was peaceful, barely disturbed by the soft murmur of the television, which cast a warm light over the space, accentuating the tranquility of the evening. At that moment, the only inhabitant in the apartment was you, enjoying the solitude and quiet while the others were busy fulfilling their commitments.

You were on the sofa, sinking into its soft cushions, immersed in your thoughts. Each time the clock ticked another minute, it seemed that the silence deepened, enveloping the room in an almost palpable sense of peace. The corner you had settled into felt like a little haven where you could disconnect from the constant activity that normally surrounded your life.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door opening broke the silence of the room. The entrance made its presence known with a slight creak, and the echo of the door closing quickly faded into the air. You curiously sat up from your position on the couch, your mind anticipating the arrival of Heeseung, who should be returning from one of our long recording sessions.

Instead of him, it was Sunghoon who stood there, an unexpected change to the usual picture. Sunghoon appeared with a remarkable presence; his defined muscles were taut and glistening in the soft light of the foyer, giving him an almost heroic air in his appearance. He was wearing gray sweatpants that clung to his athletic figure, accentuating the firmness of his posture. The fabric of the absorbent material was slightly clinging to his skin, revealing the traces of his recent workout.

The intensity of his training was reflected in the slight panting he still dragged with him, and his breathing, though regular, seemed to carry an intensity you had learned to recognize.

Sunghoon, noticing your gaze, could not help but smile with a mixture of satisfaction and mischief. His smile, which started at the corners of his lips and spread to light up his eyes, was a reflection of the amusement he felt at seeing your reaction.

He advanced towards you with firm, determined steps. You knew exactly what he was going to do, and the familiarity of his actions only heightened the anticipation you felt.

You tried to deflect the situation with a warning tone that, despite its serious intent, was far from convincing. -Don't do it -you told him. The warning tone was almost a game in itself.

Sunghoon, with his expression of feigned innocence, arched an eyebrow in a gesture that only accentuated his mischievous smile. -What shouldn't I do? -he asked, his voice soft and teasing. The question was clearly meant to prolong the game, and his naughty smirk was a clear indication that he already knew the answer to his own question. His gaze did not leave yours, and you could see in his eyes the spark of amusement that lit up his face.

Sunghoon moved with a speed that surprised you, and in an instant, you found yourself caught in his arms. The force with which he enveloped you was firm and sure, preventing any possibility of escape. The contact of his hardened abdomen against you was unavoidable, and every tense muscle was felt through the fabric of his sport shirt. The intensity of the workout was reflected in the feel of his skin, which, though still warm from exertion, was moist and slippery.

You tried to move, twisting and writhing, trying to free yourself from his tight embrace. The texture of his sweaty skin under your hands and the firmness of his grip made your movements limited. Each attempt at release only seemed to tighten the embrace, and the heat built up between you became increasingly noticeable. Despite your efforts, you couldn't help but feel the security and comfort that came with close contact.

Finally, you surrendered to the inevitable reality of the moment. The struggle to free yourself faded into an acceptance of his embrace, and you allowed him to settle against you. Sunghoon, aware of your surrender, adjusted his position with a mixture of softness and satisfaction. His movements were smooth and meticulous, as if each adjustment was designed to maximize your comfort, despite the lingering wetness of his skin.

As he settled in, Sunghoon leaned toward you. The sound of his breath on your neck, combined with the warmth of his skin, created a sense of intimacy that was hard to ignore. His face, buried in the hollow of your neck, seemed to seek refuge in you, and the sweat on his skin mingled with the warmth of your own body.

Despite your discomfort, there was something undeniably tender in Sunghoon's gesture. The closeness and the way he clung to you, the warmth of his body and the faint scent of sweat he left in the air.

The contrast between the sweat and the warmth of his skin, along with the softness of his hug, created an enveloping atmosphere.

Sunghoon, feeling the need to assess the situation, stepped back slightly. His eyes softened, and a tender smile appeared on his lips as he saw how adorable you looked at that moment. The look on his face reflected a mixture of affection and amusement, and he leaned toward you, bringing his lips close to yours with the intention of kissing you. However, you dodged the contact, turning your head slightly away.

-You don't deserve it -you said, trying to maintain a tone of indignation.

Sunghoon, with a derisive chuckle escaping his lips, was not deterred by your evasion. Without warning, he pressed you against the wall of his room with a nimble and decisive movement. The action was swift, and before you could react, his legs were placed between yours, pulling you even closer to him. The brush of his body against yours, combined with the firmness of his grip, created a sense of closeness that was hard to ignore.

He leaned into you, and the brush of his lips against your neck was delicate, but loaded with intentionality. His breathing, deep and rhythmic, became more noticeable as he drew closer. The soft kiss on your neck was a light caress, his mouth moving deftly along your skin, exploring every sensitive nook and cranny with a precision that made you shiver.

The brush of his lips, though gentle, was effective in provoking a response in your body, causing an involuntary tremor to spread from the point of contact to the rest of your skin. The combination of the warmth of his body and the moist touch of his breath created a sensory experience that was hard to ignore.

-Sunghoon… don't mark-s -you said in a shaky whisper, trying to maintain a semblance of seriousness as you felt the effect of his caresses. The tone in your voice, though laden with warning, failed to hide the pleasure you were experiencing.

Sunghoon, with a playful expression on his face, decided to intensify the game. He gently pinched your waist, a movement that, though slight, caused a gasp to escape your lips. The pinch, unexpected and sudden, was enough to make you shiver, and your body reacted instantly to the surprise. The mixture of pain and pleasure set off a series of chain reactions, increasing the closeness between the two of you.

Taking advantage of the moment when your body tensed and you gave in to gasping, Sunghoon leaned even closer to you. His lips found yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly became more intense. The intensity of his kisses was palpable; his lips moved with an urgency and hunger that left no doubt about the desire he felt, a combination that was impossible to ignore.

Every movement of his tongue against yours seemed to be a declaration of his desires, and you, between whispers and moans, surrendered to the experience with submission. His hands, still firmly positioned on your waist, guided you toward the bathroom.

Sunghoon moved with smooth determination, never stopping kissing you for an instant. The bathroom door closed with a soft click behind you, plunging you into an even more intimate space. The room was illuminated by a soft light, creating a cozy and private atmosphere.

With a fluid gesture, Sunghoon turned on the shower faucet, and the hot water began to fill the space with an enveloping steam. The temperature of the water, combined with the gathering steam, created a warm, moist atmosphere that enveloped their bodies. Sunghoon, without taking his eyes off you, began to strip off your clothes, his movements slow and careful while his lips still sought yours in a lingering kiss.

˖ ࣪ › Kim Seonwoo ー 김선우

The drive back to the dormitories was quiet, with the sound of the car's engine being the only background noise. The night sky was clear, revealing a blanket of stars twinkling softly above the moving vehicle. Street lamps dimly illuminated the deserted streets, casting long, eerie shadows that danced to the rhythm of the car's lights. The interior of the vehicle was warm and comfortable, providing a cozy shelter from the cold breeze of the night outside.

Ni-ki, his young energy already spent, rested with his face buried in your neck. You felt his soft, rhythmic breathing, a warm whisper against your skin. His soft hair tickled your neck with every little movement. Ni-ki's arms, despite his drowsiness, clung lightly to you. With every little bump in the road, his body would instinctively adjust, snuggling closer and seeking an even more comfortable position.

Sunoo, on the other hand, snuggled into your lap, his light weight and slender body fitting snugly against yours. Her hair, silky and fine, slipped through your fingers as you played with it. You felt the softness of his hair, creating a soothing sensation that helped you calm your own restless thoughts.

Concern for Sunoo kept nagging at the back of your mind. All day long you had noticed his tiredness and distraction. You watched every little gesture, every slow blink and every sigh, trying to decipher what could be going through his mind. You saw the tension in his shoulders and the slight dullness in his eyes that indicated his exhaustion.

The dim light from inside the car illuminated his face, revealing his delicate features and the tranquility that could only be experienced in sleep. You decided not to move until the cart finally stopped at the apartment complex, wanting to prolong that moment of peace and connection with the two maknaes.

Finally, the car arrived at its destination. The engine was turned off and the silence grew even deeper. You woke the two maknaes gently, whispering their names and stroking their cheeks so they would slowly wake up. Ni-ki woke slowly, his eyes still half closed, blinking heavily against the soft light inside the carriage. Sunoo moved lazily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and stretching like a small cat, letting out a tired sigh.

Everyone got out of the vehicle and you felt Heeseung put his arm around you, providing support and a touch of warmth in the cold night. The cool night air snuck in through the open spaces, making you snuggle a little more into his embrace. The managers waved goodbye to you with a smile and a nod of approval, as you headed inside the building. As you went upstairs, the silence remained, only interrupted by the soft hum of the elevator slowly ascending.

Each floor you passed increased the sense of calm and the accumulated exhaustion of the day seemed to settle even more on your shoulders.

The elevator stopped with a slight clink and the doors slowly opened. Arriving at Jake, Sunoo and Jungwon's floor, you turned to Sunghoon, who was watching the maknaes with concern.

-Sunghoon, can I stay with the maknaes tonight? -Your voice was a whisper that barely broke the silence of the hallway.

Sunghoon looked at you with surprise at first, then his expression softened in understanding. His eyes reflected slight curiosity and concern as he replied.

-Sure, but may I know why, are you okay? -He asked, his tone showing a mixture of genuine concern and a need to understand.

You turned to Sunoo, who looked just as tired, if not worse, than he did at the end of the recordings that afternoon. His eyes were dull, and his posture betrayed a deep exhaustion that seemed to sink his shoulders downward. His movements were slow and heavy, as if each step cost him monumental effort.

-I'm worried about Sunoo, and I want to take care of him tonight -you replied.

Sunghoon nodded slowly, his gaze shifting from you to Sunoo and then back to you. His lips formed a small sympathetic smile as he looked at the young man intently, recognizing the need for your request.

The soft glow of the lights illuminated everyone's tired faces. You said goodbye to Heeseung with a soft kiss on the mouth, feeling the warmth in his gesture, a silent promise to be there for you.

You did the same with Sunghoon, who kissed you back with a quiet smile. His lips were warm and soft, and the kiss was a mutual comfort. Jay also received a kiss on the lips, his hand clasped briefly around yours in a gesture of silent support.

When you reached Ni-ki, who could barely keep his eyes open, you kissed him on the cheek and caressed him tenderly. His skin was warm under your lips and his breathing was slow and heavy with exhaustion. The brush of your fingers on his cheek brought a slight smile to his face before his eyes closed again.

Jake was waiting for you outside the elevator, his tall, comforting figure standing out in the dimly lit hallway. He took your hand with a gentleness that contrasted with his usual strength. His hand was firm but gentle, conveying a sense of security.

As you entered the apartment, the atmosphere was calm and orderly. Jungwon, who had been conversing quietly with Jake in the hallway, approached you with a genuine smile and gave you a kiss on the lips. It was a brief gesture but full of affection, his lips were soft and warm.

Jake wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. His arms were strong and protective, the embrace was brief but intensely warm, his lips touching yours in a soft kiss that left a trace of warmth on your skin.

You approached Sunoo, who was in the kitchen, leaning on the table with a glass of water in his hand. His posture looked tired, and his skin paled slightly under the kitchen light. Touching his face with a gentle hand, you felt the warmth of his skin, and he slowly opened his eyes. Fatigue was clearly visible in his expression, but at the sight of you, a faint smile appeared on his lips. That smile, though faint, gave you a breath of relief; at least he didn't seem to have a fever, and that reassured you.

-Should we go to bed? -you asked softly, the concern in your eyes evident, but your tone was calm and comforting.

Sunoo nodded slightly, his hand taking yours with a delicacy that reflected his exhaustion. Together, you walked towards your room, the floor of the apartment creaking softly under your footsteps, echoing faintly in the quiet hallway.

They entered his room, a space decorated in a simple but cozy style.

You told Sunoo that he needed to change to sleep. Though he groaned with a slight sigh, he walked to his drawer. The movement of his legs was leisurely and fatigued, and his posture clearly reflected the accumulated fatigue. He opened the drawer with a trembling hand and began to search through his collection of comfortable clothes.

Meanwhile, you stood near the bed, watching Sunoo rummage through her clothes. The room was shrouded in dim light, which came from a table lamp in the corner, creating a warm, soft glow that accentuated the quiet atmosphere. The soft hum of the heater in the background added an additional layer of comfort to the space.

Sunoo stopped and asked you in a faint voice -Why don't you change?

-I wasn't really planning to stay with you, so I don't have pajamas -you admitted, a little flushed by the confession.

He returned to his drawer and, with a deliberate movement, offered you one of his shirts. The garment was obviously large for you, its long sleeves and loose-fitting fabric contrasting with your figure. The shirt was made of a soft, comfortable material, and had a familiar scent that made you feel even closer to him.

-You can wear this -Sunoo said, his voice had a soft tone, full of care and a hint of concern for your well-being.

Sunoo's scent intensified as you wrapped yourself in the garment, filling you with a sense of comfort and closeness.

Sunoo, watched you with a gaze that combined admiration and affection. His eyes followed your every move, and he couldn't help but break the silence with a voice full of sincerity.

-You're beautiful -Sunoo said, his words floating in the air with a soft tone full of affection.

You blushed at the compliment, warmth spreading across your cheeks as you turned to him.

-Thank you -you said, your voice a whisper full of gratitude.

You approached him with a gentle, attentive manner, your movements careful and deliberate, as if you wanted to make sure you didn't invade his personal space.

-Do you want me to wash your face? -you asked in a soft tone of voice, almost like a whisper, your eyes fixed on his with an expression of sincere care.

Sunoo nodded slowly, his eyes already heavy with fatigue. He settled himself near the sink, allowing you to approach with all the attention you offered him. The mood in the bathroom was serene, with the warm light creating a play of soft shadows on her fatigued features. You immediately sprang into action.

You began to wet a small towel with warm water, the sound of dripping water the only noise that broke the still silence. With delicate movements, you began to clean Sunoo's face, who, half asleep, was enjoying your gentle massage on his skin.

His arms were wrapped around you with a strength that, although relaxed, conveyed a sense of security.

Your fingers moved in small, meticulous circles, gently massaging his cheeks and forehead. Sunoo relaxed under your touch, his eyelids slowly closing and his lips curving into a contented expression. He opened his eyes from time to time to look at your face, completely focused on the care you were giving him.

When your eyes finally met his, Sunoo raised a hand slowly, touching your cheek tenderly. His touch was subtle, but it was full of affection. His hand was warm and his touch, though light, was firm in its gratitude. He drew you to him gently, as if he wanted to make sure you were as close as possible. The pressure of his arms around your waist did not slacken, keeping you immobilized.

Carefully, you finished wiping the soap residue from his face. The soft towel moved easily over his skin, encircled by his firmly secured arms. Finally, after completely drying his face, Sunoo looked up at you with an expression of sincere thanks. His voice, laden with a sleepy, loving tone, broke the silence.

-Give me a kiss -Sunoo asked in a low, melodic voice, a request that combined tenderness and a touch of neediness.

You approached him with a warm smile and kissed his forehead gently.

-Not there, noona… -he complained with a slight pout on his lips.

You smiled at his complaint, the play on words and the childish gesture gave him an adorable air. You slowly moved down to kiss both of his cheeks, the contact was soft and affectionate. Each kiss was a light caress on his tired skin, and you felt the tension in his face begin to relax under your touch.

However, Sunoo seemed to lose patience.

In a decisive, passionate move, he lifted you up and placed you on the countertop of the bathroom sink. The cool surface of the sink contrasted with the warmth of your body, creating an intriguing and electrifying sensation.

Once you were seated on the countertop, Sunoo positioned himself between your legs. He kissed you with an intensity that took you by surprise. The kiss was urgent, his lips pressed against yours with a palpable need. His hands moved firmly around your waist, pressing you even more against him and creating a physical connection that seemed unbreakable.

Your hands rested on his shoulders, feeling the muscle tense under the fabric of his shirt. The strength of his grip enveloped you in a sense of security, and the closeness between you was almost overwhelming.

Sunoo, with a purposeful movement, guided your legs around his tiny waist, making sure you were completely connected to him. The way his hands moved across your body was firm but full of care, each gesture conveying a mixture of desire and protectiveness. His hands were positioned just below where your ass began, offering solid support as he carried you in his arms towards the bed.

The sensation of being carried by him was both comforting and exciting. His steps were sure as he made his way to the bed, and the contact of his body with yours was a constant source of warmth and closeness. He gently settled you on the bed, lowering you gently onto the mattress with reverent care.

Sunoo broke the kiss and looked at you with an expression of deep affection. his eyes, searching yours, and the silence between you was filled with a quiet but powerful connection. The light in the room went out, plunging the room into a warm, cozy gloom.

He got into bed next to you, his movements gentle but sure, as if he wanted to make sure you were completely comfortable and tucked in. His arm went around you, and he placed his face in the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath against your skin was comforting.

As you settled into the bed, your hands began to gently play with his hair. Each caress was a delicate and loving gesture, moving your fingers slowly through her silky locks. The touch of your hands in his hair was comforting to both you and him, creating an atmosphere of tranquility and closeness.

Sunoo snuggled closer, his breaths becoming deeper and more regular as he settled into the bed. His body was completely relaxed against yours, and the warmth of his embrace enveloped you in a sense of security and peace. The gentle rhythm of his breaths on your neck helped you relax, and the closeness between you created a perfect space to rest.

˖ ࣪ › Yang Jungwon ー 양정원

The studio was meticulously prepared for the occasion, lit with bright lights that reflected a vibrant and welcoming atmosphere. The décor was reminiscent of a traditional classroom, with desks, chairs and various school supplies arranged in an orderly fashion. The atmosphere was designed to make conversation flow naturally, as if it were a casual conversation between classmates.

You and Jungwon were seated at a table in the center of the set. You were both wearing student uniforms, the attire evoking a youthful and fresh image. When you sat down at the desk, Jungwon noticed that there was nothing to cover your legs. With a thoughtful gesture, he asked for a blanket to be brought to you, wanting to make sure you would be comfortable during the recording.

The MC, a friendly young man about the same age as you, led the conversation with enthusiasm and curiosity. His questions focused on both of your school experiences, exploring topics such as favorite subjects and funniest anecdotes from your time at school.

Whenever the MC spoke to you, his eyes sparkled with a mixture of interest and admiration. It was evident that he found you a source of fascination, and this behavior did not go unnoticed by Jungwon. His jaw visibly tensed, and a shadow of concern darkened his gaze. The situation was becoming increasingly palpable to him, as he watched the MC become more and more attentive and dedicated in his conversation with you.

The MC, seeking to add a touch of familiarity to the conversation, proposed an idea. With a friendly smile and a casual tone, he said - Should we ever go out for a meal and a drink together? That would be fun, don't you think?"

Your reaction was immediate. You laughed sheepishly, feeling a slight warmth in your cheeks. You looked at the MC with a soft smile and replied -Sure, that would be fun someday -Although your response was kind and open, you did so with a modesty that reflected your shyness.

The MC, with an expression of curiosity and amusement on his face, decided to change the subject to keep the mood light and entertaining. He looked at Jungwon with a playful smile and, in a tone that invited an interesting anecdote.

-Hey, Jungwon, what was T/N like in school? Was she popular or something?

Jungwon, adjusted his posture, seeking to appear relaxed.

-Well… T/N noona was pretty famous. I'm not kidding, Heeseung Hyung used to go to look for her at her salon because she was always surrounded by people. She was like a star, everyone wanted to spend time with her….

While Jungwon was telling the story, his hand, unbeknownst to you, started to move gently under the blanket covering you. The sensation of his hand slowly sliding up your thigh was unexpected, and a slight shiver ran across your skin. The softness of the touch surprised you, and your mind struggled to stay focused on the conversation.

The MC, seemingly oblivious to the tension that had settled under the blanket, turned his attention back to Jungwon with a knowing smile. He scratched his chin, as if pondering an interesting question.

-So, Jungwon, what do you think about me dating T/N, would you give me your approval? -he asked.

As he asked the question, the MC pointed to the screen behind him, which showed clips of Jungwon acting very protective of you at various events. In the videos, he could be seen keeping a close eye on your interactions with others, and on one occasion, even playfully interrupting a conversation between you and another idol friend.

Jungwon, with an expression of seriousness that contrasted with the light tone of the conversation, pressed his hand on your thigh more firmly. He slowly ran his hand up your thigh and with a serious tone, he replied -No, I definitely wouldn't give you my approval.

The comment caused an awkward silence in the studio. The laughter died down and the atmosphere became tense, with those present clearly surprised by Jungwon's seriousness. The light atmosphere had quickly evaporated.

Jungwon, noticing the change in the atmosphere and intending to soften the situation, tried to correct the tone with a forced smile and an attempt at humor -It's just that, honestly, you'd break the fans' hearts! I can't allow that.

Jungwon's joke managed to partially relieve the tension, and the atmosphere on the recording set began to return to its original tone. The laughter timidly resumed and the MC followed up with a couple more questions. Although the atmosphere had relaxed, Jungwon kept his hand firmly on your thigh, squeezing from time to time with an intensity that made it difficult to concentrate on the conversation.

Finally, the MC applauded to close the interview and expressed his thanks to all the participants. The set was filled with a hubbub of goodbyes and greetings. Politely, you said goodbye to the production team, trying to maintain a professional attitude. You felt the pressure of Jungwon's gaze on your back, but made a conscious effort not to look back at him. The intensity of his gaze was palpable, almost as if he could burn you from a distance. Without pausing, you quickly made your way to the dressing room, seeking a refuge where you could clear your mind and take a breather.

Arriving at the dressing room, you plopped down in a chair located in a secluded corner. You pulled out your phone, hoping to immerse yourself in some distraction that would help you unwind. You checked messages and notifications, though in reality your mind was focused on the recent incident. You weren't completely annoyed, but it was clear that Jungwon's behavior couldn't become a norm every time he felt threatened.

Suddenly, you felt Jungwon approaching, his presence unmistakable and powerful. You tried to get up and fetch a bottle of water to avoid confrontation, but Jungwon wouldn't let you move. With a swift movement, he grabbed your hand with a strength that surprised you, and pulled you to him with an intensity that made you bump against his firm chest.

The unexpected contact made your heart race. You felt the warmth of his body and the beat of his heart against yours. Jungwon lowered his head, his face close to yours, and his voice sounded husky.

-I'm sorry... -he said, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that showed his sincerity, though his behavior did not warrant it.

You did not respond immediately. The physical closeness and the intensity of his gaze made you feel nervous. Your heart was pounding, the effect his close presence had on you.

Jungwon, noticing your silence, leaned closer to you, his lips urgently approaching yours. He tried to kiss you, his lips were warm and his breath brushed your skin. Despite your effort to avoid the kiss, his hand on your waist was firm, almost relentless, holding you close to him. His embrace was not a cage, but a barrier that made it difficult to move freely.

-Jungwon, this is not the way to handle things -you said, trying to remain calm despite the trembling in your voice. -You're supposed to trust me….

Jungwon, with an expression of frustration and despair on his face, sank his face into your neck. The heat of his skin against yours was almost scorching, and the wet contact of his kisses on your skin made you shiver. His kisses and warm breath created a charged atmosphere that made it difficult to hold in the anger you felt.

-I trust you, but not what the others might do -Jungwon murmured, his voice low and laden with a mixture of anguish and desire. His lips continued to leave wet kisses on your neck.

With considerable effort, you pulled his face away from your neck and held him gently by the sides of his face. His eyes met yours, dark with burning desire.

-I belong to you -you whispered, almost as if sharing an intimate secret.

Jungwon did not respond with words. Instead, he leaned forward, his lips crashing against yours in an urgent, burning kiss. The initial contact was like a spark igniting a flame; the softness of your lips mingled with desperate intensity. His hands, still firmly clinging to your waist, pressed you against him with a palpable need, as if he feared the moment would fade.

His tongue, warm and soft, slid in with an expert touch, playing and teasing with enveloping movements that made you sigh.

Your hands slid into his hair, tangling in the nape of his neck with a fervor that responded to the fervent kiss. You felt the texture of his locks under your fingers, each tug and caress entangling your deepest emotions in the act of kissing. His hands descended to your hips, exerting a firm but passionate pressure that made you feel even closer to him.

Jungwon, with a mixture of determination and passion, began to lean back. Without breaking the kiss, he sat down on the couch. He made you settle astride him, the pressure of his body against yours amplifying the shared pleasure.

In the middle of the kiss, Jungwon bit your lower lip urgently. The bite was a gesture charged with intensity; his teeth sank gently into the flesh of your lip, creating a sensation of pressure that combined the tender and the passionate. The sensation of his hot breath, combined with the bite, made every second of the kiss feel like an eternity of shared enjoyment.

Then, he parted slightly, bringing their foreheads together in a gesture of complicity. The warmth of their bodies melted into a comforting calm. The tensions of the moment seemed to dissipate in the intimacy of their embrace. The outside world seemed to fade away, leaving them in a bubble of tranquility.

˖ ࣪ › Nishimura Riki ー西村力

After one of the tour's concerts, the atmosphere was permeated with the residual energy of the performance. The excitement of the audience was still vibrating in the air, mingling with the smell of sweat and lotion from the band members left in the dressing room. Upon returning to the hotel, an atmosphere of relaxation and camaraderie settled in your room, where you, Sunoo and Ni-ki were looking to decompress the tension of the day.

We had decided to play Super Smash Bros after the group dinner, a lively gathering that included the rest of the staff and the other members of the group. The dinner had been a mix of laughter, lively conversation and inside jokes that only those who lived through the experience together could fully understand. The restaurant had been full of life, the tables overflowing with exquisite dishes that contrasted with the fast food they often resorted to on tour. Stomachs full and spirits high, the decision to follow the evening with a game seemed perfect.

In your hotel room, the soft light from the table lamps created a warm and cozy atmosphere. Thick curtains blocked the view of the city, isolating the space from the hustle and bustle outside. The three of you were at ease on the bed, a vast expanse of white sheets that rustled with every movement. Ni-ki lay between your legs, his body relaxed against yours, his head resting on your stomach. You could feel his rhythmic breathing, the slight rise and fall of his chest. Every now and then, his soft hair brushed against your skin, causing a pleasant tingling sensation.

Sunoo, with his inexhaustible energy, was facing the TV, lying on his stomach. His legs swayed in the air, feet moving to the rhythm of an imaginary melody. His eyes sparkled in the light of the screen, a reflection of changing colors that illuminated his face with an almost childlike enthusiasm. The television screen, excessively large for the room, projected a bluish light that bathed the space in an atmosphere of playfulness.

The three of them stared at the screen, controls in their hands, each absorbed in their own strategy and concentration. Friendly competitiveness hung in the air, a subtle current that maintained the tension of the game, but without breaking the atmosphere of complicity. Every time Sunoo won, his little shouts of excitement could be heard. His high-pitched, clear voice echoed in the room, and his leaps on the bed made the sheets crumple under his weight. His movements were quick and effusive, as if each victory injected him with an extra dose of energy. His eyes would close for a second, his hands raised in triumph, and his laughter would fill the space, a melody of pure happiness.

When you won, the feeling was different. You let out an elongated "yessssss", an exclamation held back by Ni-ki's weight on you. It was a sound of deep satisfaction, but tempered by the presence of your boyfriend on top of you. You could feel his head move slightly with your exclamation, but he remained in place, seeking comfort in your closeness.

That night was definitely not Ni-ki's night. He barely won once, which had him grumpy. His face showed a mixture of intense concentration and mounting frustration. Each defeat was reflected in his eyes, a spark of irritation that quickly faded into resignation. His lips formed a thin line, and his sighs were deeper, almost as if with each exhale he was trying to release pent-up frustration.

Time passed almost unnoticed, and soon the clock struck one in the morning. The room was still illuminated by the dim light of the television and the soft glow of the table lamps, which cast elongated shadows on the walls. Suddenly, the sound of the telephone broke the atmosphere of concentration and playfulness. Sunghoon was calling to say that Sunoo had to return to the room they shared.

The vibrant energy of the game and Sunoo's company had faded away, leaving a quiet calm in its place. You shared a room with Ni-ki, while Sunghoon was with Sunoo, Jay with Jungwon and Heeseung with Jake. This room sharing was familiar, a routine part of life on tour, each finding comfort in the company of their designated roommate.

While you were in the bathroom doing your skin care routine, you listened to the soft murmur of the room and the low hum of the air conditioner. The bathroom was illuminated by warm, soft light, reflecting off the mirrors and creating a soothing ambiance.

As you carefully applied moisturizer to your face, you felt arms wrap around you from behind. At first, it was a light pressure, as if Ni-ki was testing whether his affection would be welcome. Then, the arms squeezed tighter, enveloping you in a warm, firm embrace. You continued with your routine, moving with the familiarity of rehearsed movements, as Ni-ki, koala-like, hugged you from behind. His face was buried in your neck, and you could feel his warm breath against your skin. The faint whisper of his breath, along with the weight of his head on your shoulder, created a sense of protection.

His arms were firmly entwined around your waist, his body glued to yours insistently. Despite his usual dislike of physical affection, he would occasionally get like this, clingy to the point where he wouldn't let go. Over time, you had learned to accept and, in fact, expect these moments. Physical closeness was a form of silent communication, a way for Ni-ki to express her feelings without the need for words.

As you applied the cream to your face, your movements became slower and more careful, taking the time to savor the moment. You could feel Ni-ki slowly relax, his breathing becoming deeper and more regular.

Looking through the mirror, you noticed the pout on Ni-ki's face with a clarity that stood out against the brightness of the sink. -Why are you pouting? -you asked, your voice soft and curious, trying to soften the moment with a touch of humor.

Ni-ki lifted his head slightly from your neck, his face so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. -I'm not pouting -he replied in a defensive tone. The response, far from discouraging you, only added to the tenderness of the situation. Laughter escaped your lips, a soft but joyful sound that mingled with the echo of the bathroom.

As the laughter faded, you carefully arranged your skin care products on the shelf. Then, you leaned against the sink, your eyes reflecting Ni-ki's image as he raised his head to look at you.

The light from the bath, soft and warm, brought out the details of Ni-ki's face. His eyes, a little hesitantly, sought yours in the mirror, but were soon diverted as the color in his cheeks intensified. He turned red, the blush spreading from the tips of his ears to his cheeks, a clear sign of his embarrassment. Then he buried his face in your neck again, seeking refuge in the warmth and comforting embrace.

The sight of Ni-ki hiding in your neck elicited another wave of laughter from you, this time more joyful and deeper. -Don't laugh, noona -he said in a plaintive voice, the tone slightly distorted by the proximity of your skin. The way the words were muffled by your position made the sound feel even closer and more tender.

As Ni-ki continued with his face buried in your neck, he whispered softly, the words almost inaudible, -I lost because I was tired. Otherwise, I would have beaten Sunoo hyung and you -His words were a whisper full of sincerity and self-righteousness. The way his breath caressed your neck added an extra layer of cuteness to the moment.

You turned slowly, moving carefully so as not to disrupt the embrace and the sense of closeness they had created. Your every movement was deliberate, trying to maintain the softness of the moment as you positioned yourself so that you were facing Ni-ki. The light from the bath fell softly on both of you, creating a warm glow that accentuated the intimacy of the environment.

With a gentleness that reflected the affection you felt, you lifted a hand and placed it gently on her cheek. The touch of your fingers on his skin was light, but filled with a tenderness that could be felt in every caress. The warmth of your hand seemed to absorb the tension in his face, providing a small breath of comfort. Then, you slowly leaned toward him, making sure not to rush, to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Ni-ki's reaction was immediate. His cheeks grew even redder, a color that seemed to intensify with each passing second. The skin on his face took on a warm, glowing hue that contrasted with the soft light of the bath. His eyes averted from yours, unable to hold your gaze, and his body tensed slightly in an attempt to control his embarrassment. The shy smile that appeared on her lips was small but significant.

Without warning, Ni-ki hid his face in your neck again. The blush on his cheeks seemed to radiate warmth, and the slight tremor in his breathing revealed the intensity of his emotion.

-You're so cute -you told him with a soft voice and a mixture of amusement in your words.

-I'm not cute! I'm already a man! -he protested with a mixture of indignation and disdain, his voice slightly drowned out by the contact with your neck. The need to assert his maturity only underscored the cuteness you felt.

-Yes, of course -you replied with a hint of sarcasm in your voice, the smile tugging at your lips revealing the amused disagreement with her self-assessment. The response was laden with a playful warmth, a way to continue the game you had started.

-Give me a real kiss -he requested, his voice sounding almost pleading and full of longing. A way of asking for a gesture of affection that, was clearly charged with affection. His face, still hidden in your neck, moved slightly in an attempt to look you in the eye, though his gaze remained partially hidden.

-I already gave you a real one. It's the kiss you deserve for placing third in Smash -you told him, sticking your tongue out playfully.

Ni-ki reacted with a series of dramatic complaints. -That's unfair! -his tone was filled with a mixture of frustration and amusement, as if he was angry, but he couldn't help but smile.

You laughed, a clear and joyful sound that echoed in the bathroom, creating a warm and light atmosphere. The laughter drifted softly, full of affection and amusement, and mingled with the echo of the walls. After the laughter, you walked away to the small table where you were charging your cell phone. Ni-ki followed you, moving with light, purposeful steps, his presence a constant at your side, like a shadow that didn't want to miss a second of your attention.

When you turned to rearrange the bed, the sight of Ni-ki in the middle of the comforter was almost comical. He had thrown himself in the center, flattening the comforter with an air of triumph. The comforter crumpled and sagged under his weight, creating a mountain of soft, disheveled fabric piled around his figure. Ni-ki was stretched out in a carefree manner, arms outstretched at his sides and legs slightly spread, as if the comforter had been custom-made for his form. His attitude reflected a mixture of defiance and comfort, an image of total relaxation amidst the mess.

-Ni-ki, get up, please -you asked, with a hint of amusement in your tone.

He shook his head, a firm and determined movement that underlined his obstinacy. The refusal was clear and defiant, a gesture that made it clear he had no intention of moving. As you tried to pull the comforter from under his body, you were met with solid resistance. Ni-ki remained immobile, his weight creating an effective barrier that made it nearly impossible to move the quilt without moving him first. Every tug and adjustment of the comforter revealed the difficulty of moving it, and the way he resisted only accentuated his determination to remain in position.

You moved closer to where his face was, which was partially hidden between the wrinkles of the comforter. As you met his face, you saw an expression of mischief mixed with amusement. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous sparkle and his smile, slightly hidden, seemed wider as he tried to maintain his defiant attitude.

-Please get off -you repeated, your voice laden with a mixture of exasperation and laughter. The repetition of the request was not without endearment, and the tone in your voice was a combination of gentle pleading.

Ni-ki, however, simply shook his head again, his attitude stubborn and his body still squashed into the comforter. The slight curve of his lips, still visibly tilted in a mischievous smile, left no doubt that he was enjoying every moment of this little tug-of-war.

You were standing on the side of the bed, your hands resting on either side of his head, creating a natural frame around his face. The proximity between you was remarkable. The distance between your face and his was close enough for your breaths to mingle.

-What do I have to do to get you off? -your question was soft and playful, laden with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. The tone of your voice, light and full of affection, was infused with a tinge of sweetness that reflected your willingness to continue this little game. Your body leaned forward slightly, drawing you even closer to him

-Give me a real kiss -he replied, his words coming out with a clarity that underscored his desire for a genuine gesture of affection. The way he phrased his request, with a slight elevation in the tone of his voice, revealed his expectation.

You laughed softly, a sound that filled the air with a light and cheerful melody. The laughter that escaped your lips had an infectious quality to it, adding a touch of amusement to the moment. With a smile on your lips and a gaze full of tenderness, you leaned into him.

The kiss was firm and determined, your lips acting with a pressure that, though intense, maintained a sweet quality. The feel of his lips against yours was warm and moist, a contact that conveyed an underlying urgency but also a deep affection.

As the kiss unfolded, you felt the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. Each exhalation from Ni-ki was a warm whisper that caressed your skin, the sensation of his breath creating an atmosphere of closeness that made the outside world seem to fade away.

You caressed his cheek with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity of the kiss. Your fingertips traced soft paths over his skin, adding a sense of calm and softness to the frenzy of the moment. Ni-ki let out a sigh of contentment, the sound escaping his mouth with a mixture of relief and pleasure. The sigh was deep and drawn out, an echo of the joy and contentment he felt at that moment. The vibration of his breath against your lips and the way his body relaxed slightly revealed how deeply he appreciated the gesture.

When you finally broke away from him, the look on Ni-ki's face reflected a mixture of complete satisfaction and happiness -I won.

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