#i've been looking everywhere for you guys

[pinkshortbread]

Can you write some NSFW headcanons about Daisuke and Curly 😭🙏🏿

Thank you so much for your patience, your request had been waiting for a whole week in the ask box. 😔

Spicy headcanons under the cut. ❤️

[Curly Headcanons] - NSFW 💫

Body Type.

Soft Giver / Service and Pleasure Top.

I feel like Curly doesn't have a clue about how big he is down there. He is packed but it's just an average dick, right ? Right ? Oh.

This guy, so affectionate, when he is giving you in missionnary he doesn't hesitate to handle your head so you don't hurt yourself against the wall.

Clearly into you touching his ass during the act, he loves it. Dude has a whole bakery and he wants you to know it.

A lot of praising during the act such as "You're so pretty, taking my cock like this..." "Don't worry about it, you're perfect." "Mh... I like the way you look like right now..."

Has a thing about size difference, loving the way you look so breedable and soft under him. It makes him go feral.

When you two can't do the act, especially when he is working in the cockpit and too busy for him to give you his dick, he pats his thighs so you can sit on his lap and asks you to give some space for his hand into your pants while he checks on the screen and dashboard. And that's on the finger-orgasm not too late after that.

Can be rough ONLY if you ask him to. That can be rare but when he does, he is fond of hearing the sound of his balls slapping against your ass while you sing his name with your tongue out.

[Daisuke Headcanons] - NSFW 🌺

Body Type.

Soft Giver / Noisy Switch / Leaning to Sub Top.

(Cis Daisuke) -> I feel like Daisuke is a little bigger than average, his dick is slightly curved upward when he's hard it's very very useful. :)

(Trans Daisuke for a friend 😘) -> I feel like Daisuke has a t-dick, he still takes his testosterone shots monthly on the Tulpar. Heard about many close friends that T makes you very horny, so...

Sit on his face. He adores the warm feeling growing into his chest when he looks up at you while you cry his name as you ride onto his tongue. It makes him smirk between your legs.

Daisuke has a playlist for sex, nothing too cliché but he does like to cover up the noises you both could make.

Has a thing about overstimulation, even though he looks like he is hurt, oh god he loves it and pleas for it.

"Baby, please..." "I've been a good boy, please please please..."

Messy guy, messy with you and makes a mess. Everything's stickyyyy. <3

No place around the Tulpar is safe, you guys did it everywhere. "Babe, I know it's not the moment but I was thinking about the lounge-" "I was WAITING for you to say that, let's go."

[verstappentime]

Brazil!!

i got a bunch for this one!!! for brazil, i wrote a little drabble that's mostly best friends lestappen and the barest hint retired WAG daniel ❤️ starts post sprint quali & ends after the race.

(send me a 2024 race & i'll show you what i wrote about it! will get to the rest later today)

&&&

"Charles, the tow from Max put you up into P3 today. Was that something you discussed beforehand?"

Charles laughs, turning the microphone in his hand. "You know, he has never given me a tow in his entire career, ever. But maybe it's because he forgot to get me a birthday present this year. If that is it, though, a P1 would have been nicer."

"Well, you're the closest to overtaking Lando in the championship standings," Will says. "And Max is also your best mate, right?"

"You know, Will, you say this! But he never says he loves me anymore. So maybe it is only about the championship. Or he was just there by accident. It's all a surprise to me." Charles looks behind him, because he knows, like he always does, Max is nearby. "Max, will you please come over here?"

Max, who is tying his boot laces and is therefore stuck in-frame, holds up a thumbs up. He hops a couple steps as he tightens a knot. "Hello," he says, into the microphone. "Only one microphone? What kind of show is this?"

"I wasn't expecting you," Will says, glancing between them. It's the seventh year of the two of them terrorizing reporters and generally everyone on track, so. Charles has seen that weary look before. But he asked. "Well, Max, I was just asking Charles about your giving him that slipstream back there. It put him up into P3, that was lucky."

"Who did I give a slipstream to?" Max does his thing where he stays deadpan until someone's taken him seriously, and then laughs. He points at Charles. "This guy? I've never seen him in my life."

Charles elbows him. "I was just telling Will how you are very rude to me." He looks into the camera. "This is why he gave me the tow, because he does not want me to kill him later."

"He is always so dramatic. That's why I gave him the tow, so he would shut up." Max turns to Charles. "It gave you, what–"

"Like half a tenth," Charles says. "So I did, like, a 1.09.153, and you–"

"1.09.219," Max says.

"You were losing in Sector 2?"

"Yeah, fuck, it is so bad with the bumps! And your Sector 3 was–"

"It was shit, yeah, that's why it helped with the slipstream."

"But Sector 1 is okay?"

"Yeah, I had the fastest there, and you did too once, I think–"

"Yeah! But then we are losing all this time." Max unzips his race suit and gives it a pull. "The humidity here, woof, man."

"You know, you both probably just earned some community service," says Will, who is still here.

Charles bumps Max's shoulder, laughing. "Sorry! Sorry. You saw, didn't you? I have to pay them $10,000?"

"But only half if you don't do it again!" Max takes the microphone. "Hello to the FIA, he did it again."

"Mate, shut up, they are everywhere."

"Well, maybe if you're lucky, they'll send you together. Looks like these two have a lot to discuss, Ruth, so. We'll send it back to you." Will salutes the camera. When the cameraman says 'clear,' he sighs in relief. He turns to them. "Thanks, lads, for whatever that was. Max, you'll keep your secret, I suppose." He wanders off.

Charles slings an arm around Max's shoulders, squeezing. "My slipstream was very nice."

"Do not get used to it." Max bumps his hip, reaches up to ruffle his hair before breaking away. "Fucking pass Lando tomorrow, okay?"

"Well, thanks, Max, I was not planning to until you said this." Charles rolls his eyes, but it's all fond. Sometimes it's just. Nice to be where they are together.

Someone's calling Max. He holds up his phone as he walks away backwards. "Play me back in checkers, you fucker, I'll see you tomorrow," he calls. Someone scolds him in the background.

xxx

Max runs to his team and throws himself into their arms. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. He can't stop thinking it. That didn't just happen. It's a dream.

GP's not there yet. The pit wall is so fucking far away here. Max wants to see him so badly. They fucking did it. He's not sure if he's even making words, he's just fucking yelling.

Everyone's hugging him and clapping him on the back and he wants to cry, he might actually be crying, a little bit.

And Daniel's there. He reaches out and Max hugs him with everything he's got, pressing his nose into Daniel's shoulder. If he sobs once, then so what. "Baby, baby," Daniel's saying. "Holy shit, who are you? Are you fucking real?"

Max only lets go because someone's calling his name. He kisses Daniel, just quickly, like, in a polite public way. But he actually wants to climb over the barrier and put his tongue down his throat. Daniel told him he could win from anywhere in Brazil. Max had thought he was being stupid.

"I love you," he says, stealing one more kiss. "Love you, fuck, sorry I was a bitch earlier."

Daniel has to talk into his ear so Max can hear him. "Oh god, Max, it's fine, who the fuck cares. Babe. You're incredible. I'm so proud of you. That was, like– I think that was your best drive ever." It feels like it. It really, actually feels like it. Daniel nudges him, says, "Go," because his name is still coming faintly from somewhere.

He turns to look who's calling him, and he's met with a body barreling straight into his ribcage.

Charles rocks them back and forth, not letting go for anything. "Max, oh my god, oh my god." They're both soaked through. Charles's hand is freezing where it's squeezing the back of his neck. When they pull apart, they're grinning at each other like Max just won the championship.

"It almost didn't happen because of you," Max says. "That was not a car's width!"

"Oh nooo, not a car's width." Charles shakes his head, still grinning. "I'm going to tell everyone I let you win."

"Oh, is that why you did the pit stop? I appreciate that." Max hugs him again. "That was so much fun. I think you're the only one who almost got me. P5, yeah? That's well done."

"Yeah. Car was shit. It is not terrible." Charles presses a kiss to the side of his head. "You are fucking crazy. We are not leaving Brazil. Think about something stupid to do tonight."

They're calling him for interviews. He has to go. He's taken way too long already. He won– he actually, really, fucking won– so he gets to be up last, but it looks like Pierre's wrapping up.

"Got it," he calls to Charles, as he jogs away.

[soaptaculart]

Um I like Dungeon Meshi. Btw

[longagoitwastuesday]

I just saw a Gojo-like guy in a store. He was eyeing those purple shampoos for white dyed hair, I think. He had the height and the round glasses and all. It was uncanny, truly like out of the anime. Never had seen someone pull a character's look as well as this guy. I was this 👌 close to approach him and ask him to read Georg Cantor, like a cultist stalker, but fortunately (for him) I was with my mother so I behaved

[lieutenantselnia]

This is super random, but I've recently been watching more German movies (I really enjoyed the performances of some Downfall actors and wanted to see some of their other works), and like what the hell is it with 2000s German movies that there's way too often one entirely random scene with someone having their bare ass out😭😂

Of course it doesn't happen in every movie but still often enough that it's somehow noticeable? I'm not sure if it's more of a time or a country dependent thing, but at least in my perception I just don't feel like this occurs as often in more recent movies and series especially in those from the US (like, I feel I'd have noticed if it did because I'd probably be lowkey annoyed by it😂)

[l48yr1nth]

Hi. Just wanted to say I really like your art. The way you use shapes is truly amazing and I love every art piece that comes up on my dash. :).

I AM. GOING. TO CRY.!

thank you and i love you and ur awesome and . i love you. :) :) :3

[ourceliumnetwork]

feeling a lot more stable about everything, i decided to forego keeping a bandaid on because my fucking skin cannot take the adhesives for that long omg itches so bad around them

I have a plan in place to replace the bandaids should i require not needing to see my elbow again about it, but i also wanted to see for myself how bad it was.

BOY HOWDY do I bruise purty. That shit is dark where it's not already going greenyellow. looks like I put a sharpie in a chokehold and barely managed to wrangle it into submission like damn.

[illegiblewords]

hi! i really love the lahabrea thesis series and i was wondering if there was ever going to be a next part?

Hi there! :D Thank you so much for writing in, as well as reading the archon thesis lol! I do mean to continue it technically, and tbh had meant to update a little after Abyssos was released. I have a lot of my analysis outlined. There were a few problems I hit at the time though that made me rage quit (intended temporary) through no fault of the material. 1) I had thousands of words of analysis written beyond what is currently posted in part five, including many screenshots with evidence. Tumblr would not let me save and deleted all of my work up to that point. I'd spent hours on it. I was so beside myself I had to step back. 2) I still have screenshots for evidence but the order is a little scrambled so I'll need to go back and figure out what to use where again. I took months to cool off from the anguish of losing my progress, and while I'm feeling more clear-headed now it's more a question of 'am I ready to dive back into the hardcore analysis or am I in storytelling mode and where do I want to spend that attention?' A chunk of my Lahabrea stories are on hold currently because I think further big lore developments are imminent, but I can do a lot of analysis with what we've been given at the moment. I have maybe two stories in-progress, but after them technically it would be reasonable to hit the Archon thesis again provided it's before the plot development I'm anticipating. And tbh I do think it's time to bring it back too. A lot of fandom seems to have been unsure what to make of developments with Lahabrea, Erichthonios, and Athena while the evidence around each of them has read very consistent (and interesting!) to me. So basically: this message was a good reminder and nudge to get back to it lol. I'd put it on the backburner of 'cool off from the anguish of being betrayed by technology to try again later', then didn't look back at what 'later' entailed. Like I said, got two stories I actively want to write at the moment but once I bang those out I'll circle back to have a look at the thesis again. Your asking 1000% made a difference, so thank you! <3

[tetsvya]

clueless, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  kuroo tetsuro has a thing for girls with long hair. so what if you're a girl with long hair? that doesn’t mean anything!

➼ pairing! kuroo tetsuro x fem!manager!reader

➼ warnings! none, just fluff and humor. maybe ooc because i haven't written in years??? unfortunately, because this is based on the scene of kuroo and yaku arguing about their preference, this is really for my long haired girlies 😣 i apologize to the short haired readers

➼ word count! about 1.4k

➼ author’s note! "haikyuu renassiance!" we all cheer in unison. anywho, this is my first time posting in two years. please be nice to me 🫡

"So, you prefer girls with short hair then, Yaku?" Kai asks, shedding off the white button-up of his school uniform and revealing his black practice t-shirt. The three third-year Nekoma players had found themselves in an empty classroom, deciding to use it as a makeshift changing room. Luckily for them, they had all worn their clean practice clothes under their school uniforms. Doing so allowed them to save time and cut back the number of minutes they were already going to be late to practice, thanks to Yaku getting distracted by a group of girls, which Kai noted all had short hair. Hence, his question.

Yaku paused his work of ridding himself of his tie to send Kai a proud grin, pointing towards him with both hands, “Yesss!

"And you, Kuroo?" Kai turns to him, now curious to know his captain's answer as well.

"Long." Kuroo's answer is firm, leaving no room for debate. Still, he glances at Yaku, as if daring him to try.

Yaku only snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he too turns to look at his captain, "Like that wasn't obvious."

"Ehh," Kuroo's eyes narrow, head craning down to peer at the libero, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yaku starts, taking a step closer as he peers right back up at Kuroo, "Everyone knows you have a crush on our manager, who just so happens to have the longest hair I've ever seen!"

"Ehh?" Kuroo repeats, louder this time as he cranes his head down even more, "Who says I have a crush—"

"Hey!" The door to the classroom slides open with a shocking force, startling the boys and drawing the attention of all three of them to it. Kuroo and Yaku both grow rigid as they find you standing in its opening. Quiet pants slip past your lips, and you take a moment to catch your breath as you stare at the three of them before you begin speaking, "There you guys are! I've been looking for the three of you everywhere."

"Hello," Kai greets kindly, the only one not left in a stupor at your sudden appearance, smiling as you make your way into the classroom. "We apologize, we're running a bit late."

"Yeah," You huff, coming to a stop a few steps away from them as you cross your arms, "It was your guys' turn to set up the nets. So when you guys didn't show up in time to do so and none of you answered your phones, Coach sent me to find you guys. Didn't know I'd be going on a wild goose chase."

Your words leave you in a huff before your eyes land on Kuroo, raising an eyebrow at the captain. His shoulders tense even more at the sudden eye contact and he's quick to snap his head in the other direction. Kuroo suddenly feels warm, realizing how you could have easily heard the conversation transpiring between the three of them. Stupid Yaku, Kuroo curses the libero in his head, doesn't even know what he's talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." And of course it’s Yaku who disrupts his thoughts, pulling Kuroo's eyes to him just as he sends you an innocent smile, "We got carried away, talking."

There's a teasing tone to Yaku's voice, and Kuroo knows it's directed at him. Why is he friends with him again?

"I don't even want to know," You speak, and Kuroo can envision you shaking your head at the three of them, "Just get dressed and get to the gym as quick as possible, please."

All three boys give some noise of recognition in response to your words, and Kuroo takes the chance to glance at you then. He's quick to regret it. Your hand rises just as he locks eyes with you, reaching up to tuck some of the more unruly pieces of your hair (which most likely came undone due to your seemingly frantic search of the three third years) behind your ear and out of your face. Kuroo's eyes follow the movement of your hand, trailing downwards and taking in the long strands of hair that fall well past your shoulders. Once again all too aware of the conversation he was just having with his teammates, the tips of his ears burn as he pulls his gaze away from you once more. He shakes his head, trying to get Yaku's words out of his mind. Just because he liked girls with long hair, and just because you so happened to be a girl with long hair, did not mean he liked you.

Right?

A snort of laughter suddenly leaves Yaku, having caught the interaction, and Kuroo turns to him with a heated glare. You don't miss the exchange between them either.

"Are you two having one of your petty arguments again?" You accuse, eyes glancing between Kuroo and Yaku who are suddenly staring back at you like two deers caught in headlights. "Seriously, you've been fighting like this since first year. What topic could you guys possibly still be discussing?"

Yaku's smirk returns as he glances at his captain with an all too knowing look before he turns back to you, "Well, if you really want to kn—"

"Nope!" Kuroo is quick to interject, speaking for the first time since you entered and drawing your attention away from Yaku and back to the captain himself. Your eyes widen as he begins to take long strides in your direction. "No arguing here!"

Your lips part, confusion taking over your features at the odd behavior your captain is displaying. You don't get the chance to say anything, however, as Kuroo makes a show of glancing at the clock on the wall before turning back to you with a dramatic gasp, "Oh, would you look at the time! We should really be heading to practice."

"You still have your school shirt on, Kuroo.” You point out when he stops in front of you, pointedly glancing down at Kuroo's attire, which consisted of his practice shorts and white button-up, with his red school tie hung loosely around his neck.

"I'll just change it once we're in the gym," Kuroo responds, waving away your interjections before he drops his hands onto your shoulders and forces you to turn around and back toward the door. You attempt to dig your heels down when he begins to push you in the direction of the door, but you're truly no match for his strength. Stupid volleyball training.

"Kuroo," You voice your protests, attempting to swat at his hands in order to get him to release you. Once again, your attempts remain futile, "Let go of me!"

"No can do! As captain and manager, it's our job to be on time to every practice. What would our team do without us?" Kuroo shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he's scolding you. He turns back to Kai and Yaku, flashing them a warning smile, daring them to say another word. Yaku merely watches on with an unamused look, while Kai holds a placid smile. There's extra sweetness in his voice as he practically chirps out, "Bring my stuff to the club room, will you?"

"I was on time!" You retort, not giving Kai nor Yaku a chance to respond to their exasperating captain as you send them a pointed look, all the while succumbing to your fate and allowing Kuroo to push you out of the classroom. After all, he did have a point. It probably wouldn't be long before Lev managed to push somebody's buttons (most likely Yamamoto’s) one too many times and ended up in hot water. "The only reason I'm not there right now is because I came looking for you guys!"

"Ah, now is not the time to deal blame, Y/N. Our juniors are waiting on us." Kuroo argues back, shaking his head as he removes one hand from your shoulder to slide the door shut behind the two of you. Still, Yaku and Kai face the door as the sound of your guys' bickering persists. It grows quieter and quieter with each passing moment, and it isn’t until they can no longer hear your guys' voices does Yaku glance away with a shake of his head.

"He's clueless." Yaku deadpans, glancing back down at his tie as he continues to work on untying it.

Kai nods, neatly folding his button-up before placing it in his bag. "Completely."

[monzabee]

short n' sweet (social media au) - op81

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where in an attempt to figure out who Y/N is dating, the internet come up with theories only to realise she is dating none other than Oscar Piastri and chaos ensues.

Pairing: oscar piastri x pop star!reader (model used: sabrina carpenter) (and domingooo)

Warnings: cursing (i think), sabrina carpenter is horny but it's okay we ride with it, feat the internet being the internet, i have a big fat crush on mercello hernandez so you have been warned

Auhtor note: came all this way, had to explain, direct from @percervall; mar this one is for you, i haven't had this much fun in a long time so thank you for indulging my brainrot and excitement😭🫶

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername

Liked by elleusa, taylorswift, gracieabrams and 3,255,376 others

yourusername: toto, i have a feeling we're not in kansas anymore. short'n sweet cumming to a city near you! first stop: columbus, ohio

user: bro just give me ONE chance

user: SHE'S GORGEOUS ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: te amo diva

user: don't know if i wanna be with her or i wanna be her

view all 5,594 comments.

user: see you tomorrow pookie

user: cant wait to see u 🫶🏼✨🤍

user: she’s the sweetest & shortest 💋

user: it’s Y/N's world and we’re just living in it😭🤍🤍💋💋💋

user: is he talking about TOTO FUCKING WOLFF??

user: why is f1 everywhere, no she isn't😭

tiktokuser1

caption: bed chem from opening night!!

user: that mic is ON! ✨

user: I LOVE THIS DIVA!!

user: watching this isn’t enough, I have to be there

user: I need that bed.. NEOWWW

user: SHE BETTER BRING THE DAMN TOUR TO AUSTRALIA CAUSE THE FOMO IS CRAZY

user: oh i think she'll be bringing the tour to australia alright

user: what does that mean??

user: what do you know!!

tiktokuser2

caption: YO I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING BUT SHORT N' SWEET TOUR IS THAT GIRL!!

user: 'have you ever tried this one?' ugh her mind😭

user: IS THIS THE NEW NONESENSE OUTRO FOR THIS TOUR I NEED TO KNOW

user: i can't take my eyes off this, i've been staring at it for the past five minutes!

user: okay diva we see you👀

yourusername

Liked by madisonbeer, oscarpiastri, haileybieber and 4,182,928 others

yourusername: hello l.a., are you ready to wrap it up?

user: OSCAR JACK PIASTRI WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

user: okay who is he and why is he lurking in my diva's likes?

user: MY QUEEN (me typing this while listening to espresso 👀)

user: just a girl living life and making everyone fall in love with her

user: i’m 26 and AFRAID of Y/N Y/LN

view all 7,011 comments.

user: the caption and the last pic with the kittens the vibes don't match i love you😭

yourusername: stoppp, i diee

user: how is this tour like halfway over ????? second leg of tour maybe???? 😭

tiktokuser3

caption: have you ever tried this one?

user: i don't know how she keeps coming up with these

user: imagine having this much freak, i wouldn't be able to leave my house

user: am i the only one who is excited for the last three shows in la??

user: her boyfriend is one lucky guy that's for sure

user: she has a boyfriend??

user: girl who do you think the guy in the white jacket and the thick accent is?

tiktokuser4

caption: omg guys😭😭 domingo is here😭😭

user: CAME ALLL THIS WAAY HAD TO EXPLAAAIN

user: deerect from domingoo

user: okay hear me out... mercello and Y/N??

user: noooo, this crossover is actually too insane i can't handle it

user: look at how he's looking at her bro's down bad😭

tiktokuser5

caption: WE'VE LOST HER TO DOMINGO GUYS

user: somebody call kyle and tell him the good news😭

user: who's kyle?

user: omg do you live under a rock or something?

user: am i the only one who thinks they are not dating?

yourusername

Liked by tiktok, oscarpiastri, marcellohdz and 3,669,817 others

yourusername: LA night 2 ♥️💋 second locationnnn maybe he’s biiii!!! see you tonight for our last show of the US leg :’) how the hell

user: God bless your Dad’s genetics, Domingo

user: OMG DOMINGOOO… “NOW SHES WITH A HOT GUY BUT HE LOOKS GAY, HEARD HIS NAMES DOMINGO”

user: DOMINGO IS CHEATING ON KELSEY

user: no hate to domingo, but oscar jack piastri liked this post under 1 minute😭😭

user: i think we've established that she is probably dating marcello, please stop with the delulu

user: Y/N IM HERE👹

view all 5,179 comments.

user: marcelo hernandez had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever… and he did

user: the budget for this tour is insane… feels like a literal broadway production

user: came all this way, let her explain deeerect from LA

yourusername

Liked by oscarpiastri, madisonbeer, marcellohdz and 4,928,234 others

yourusername: date night but make it our way tagged: oscarpiastri

user: i'm sorrryyyy, but the dress is giving andie andersonn

yourusername: princess sophia is having some fun tonightt

user: this is still the most mind boggling couple ever BUT YOU LOOK GOOD THO

user: i'm so normal about this, i am sooooo normal about this

user: it's giving ross from friends and i am here for it

user: the best hard launch in the history of hard launches

oscarpiastri: great show, even better after party

yourusername: why did i know you were going to comment this

oscarpiastri: i'm literally sitting right next to you and you saw me type it

user: unhinged gf x calm bf duo is superior and this is the biggest proof ever

view all 6,728 comments.

marcellohdz: but what about domingo...

yourusername: i'm sorry domingo...

user: but is mark webber still alive, MARK ARE YOU THERE

oscarpiastri

Liked by yourusername, landonorris, mclaren and 928,256 others

oscarpiastri: came all this way, had to explain... tagged: yourusername

yourusername: 100% recommend, 5-star service

oscarpiastri: 😐

yourusername: 🥰

user: mister oscar jack piastri god bless your dad's genetics indeed

user: world class driving, world class relationship reveal

landonorris: okay but do we get free concert tickets ooor?

oscarpiastri: 😐

yourusername: of course!

user: this is actually so cute i'm going to throw up

view all 3,156 comments.

user: have you ever tried this one just took a whole other meaning

user: wait, are we going to see them together in las vegas??

user: the hard launching is insaneee

[veltana]

Breaking point

✦ Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~2,5k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Dub-con (proceed with caution if this might trigger you), pwp, smut and a bit of fluff at the end, possessive/protective!bucky, degredation (slut, fuck doll, cum-bucket), grinding, choking, spitting, pussy slapping, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, pet name (sweetheart).

✦ Summary: Bucky is done with you going out with losers.

✦ Note: This used to be called I will kill them if they touch you but I never liked that title so I renamed it! Also, you guys didn't know what you were voting for, but it was the banner for this story! Please reblog and comment! Asks are always welcome 💚

Masterlist | AO3

"Please don't scare this one away as you did last time," you beg and look at Bucky's reflection in the bathroom mirror. He makes a face where he's leaning against the door frame behind you and then sighs when you give him a look. "He wasn't worth shit if he didn't wanna fight for you," he points out.

Now it's your turn to sigh and you cross your arms, glaring at him. "He isn't supposed to fight for me on a first date. We're supposed to have a good time and hopefully fuck." Bucky's mouth hardens, and he looks away. He doesn’t like that, at all.

Ever since you became roommates he's been very protective of you, helping you with the smallest things, driving you everywhere you need to go, even if you can drive yourself. Sometimes it's overbearing but most of the time it's nice to have someone care for you like that.

Unfortunately, recently he's picked up a habit of intimidating the people you go on dates with. He stands behind you when they come to pick you up, and his large frame and cold stare make many of them cower. A few have turned around right away, others have asked if that's your boyfriend or something, thinking it was some type of open relationship/cuckold situation.

"Don't say shit like that," Bucky says through gritted teeth. "I don't wanna think about you fucking other people." You can't help the teasing smile that cracks your face. "Makes you jealous?" With a huff, Bucky pushes off and leaves you to continue.

Two hours later your makeup is done and your hair fixed to perfection. You sit on the couch in shorts and a t-shirt, with a glass of wine, waiting until the last minute to put on the skin-tight dress. While scrolling on your phone, Bucky sits beside you with a beer. "So where's the loser taking you?" "Don't care,” you shrug. “Honestly, my priority tonight is to get laid. The previous ones were a little too… bland. But he seems promising." "What do you mean, bland?"

Putting your phone down you look at him, "You don't wanna hear this anyway, you'll just get mad," you point out. "I don't get mad," he defends. "Pfff, you're such a liar, I can see it in your eyes whenever I mention another guy." "Because you deserve the best and all I've seen is trash."

Irritated, you put your glass down too. "Why don't you pick for me then? Who would James Bucky Barnes deem worthy of fucking me?"

The grip on his beer is so hard his knuckles whiten and his lips are a thin line. When he doesn't answer you lean back and start to count people off.

"Well, Steve seems a bit too sweet for my taste but I mean I would not mind trying a slice of that all-American beefcake," you muse. "Sam is so charming and funny! That quick tongue would probably work wonders, if you know what I mean," you wink and watch as Bucky's eye twitch, his jaw clenched hard.

"Tony," you continue. "Well, he seems a little self-absorbed but maybe he's a really selfless lover. Won't hurt to check!" "Loki is so handsome," you bite your lip. "I would surrender my body to him in a heartbeat! But I've heard that he leaves people high and dry and that would be awful."

Tilting your head, you say, "Do you think Thor and Jane would be up for a threesome? I can just imagine eating her out while he fucks me from behind and then we could-"

With a slam he puts the bottle on the table and grabs your face with his hand forcefully, silencing your tirade of words and squeezing your cheeks so that your lips pucker.

The grip is close to bruising and it's an instant pull in your lower stomach. His eyes are black with anger, something you've never seen directed at you before. "No one," he hisses. "Not one of them is fucking you, I will kill them if they touch you."

His hand releases you and grabs your neck instead. You're shocked, and instantly so horny it hurts. Opening your mouth to speak he squeezes harder, making a wheezing sound come out.

"I'll give you a chance to stop this. Tell me right now you don't want this and we'll act as if nothing happened. Otherwise, I'm fucking you into this couch until you can't remember your goddamn name." When he finishes his grip lightens. The rush of blood makes you euphoric and boneless. You want to give yourself to him, let him do whatever he wants. "Fuck me," you whisper.

The kiss is more teeth than lips and the hold around your throat hardens again. You try to keep up with him but it's impossible as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch, making you lightheaded with the lack of oxygen. You gasp for air as he pulls away, releasing you. His gaze is brimming with lust and want now, all signs of anger gone. Then he pushes you down onto the couch.

"You're a kinky little slut, aren't you sweetheart?" he mocks and leans in over you, spreading your legs with his. All you can do is nod and try to wiggle close so you can press your center against his clothed cock. It's clearly outlined in his sweatpants and you hope it's as big as it seems. "If I put my hand down your pants, are you gonna be wet for me?" "Yes Bucky," you whine.

The throbbing is almost unbearable and his smirk is downright sinful. "Come on, rub yourself on me, show me how much you want it." With another whine, you brace yourself against the couch and lift your hips. He doesn't move a muscle to help as you struggle to find the right position.

"That's disappointing," Bucky smacks his lips and frowns. "Thought you wanted this." "I do Bucky, I do, please I'm trying," you tell him desperately. With effort, you get into a good enough position to grind your cunt on his cock through the layers of clothing. It's not nearly enough to curb the ache.

"Useless," Bucky sighs and grabs your legs. "Do I have to do everything?" He pushes your knees up towards your chest, folding you in half and pushing his cock right into your core.

"Sorry," you moan. His mean words have only made you needier and you move yourself against him with abandon. Bucky is motionless above you, not making a sound or saying a word, just staring at you chasing your high. Your movements turn unsteady when you start to come close.

If you were of sound mind you would notice the glint in his eyes but instead, you’re barreling towards your climax. Until he suddenly moves away.

Gawking you stare at him and he just smiles wickedly in return. "Take off your clothes, spread your legs" he instructs and you quickly pull your pants off and discard your t-shirt and underwear, spreading your legs as best you can on the couch. Bucky takes in your bare body, moving his hands slowly down your thighs until his palms frame your pussy.

"Fucking shaved for him too,” he notes with a snarl. You're not sure why that upset him. "Sorry!" you say, just to be safe.

"I don't need your hair curled, your make-up done or your whole body shaved. I will fuck you anyway, sweetheart, no matter what you look like because you belong to me," he growls before he spits on your cunt, sending a rush through you, making you moan and spread your legs even more.

For the first time, he touches you properly, letting his fingers spread the spit all over your pussy before shoving two of them into your soaked core. He pistons them in and out, putting his thumb against your clit and making colors burst before you.

"You want to come on my fingers, you fucking slut?" When you nod frantically he instructs, "Open your mouth, stick out your tongue." A second after you do spit lands on your tongue and droplets on your face. It nearly tips you over.

"Swallow it," he orders and watches you as you do, some form of approval shining in his eyes for the first time. "Who do you belong to?"

The question is too complicated to understand, you can't focus on what he wants. "I don't…" is all that comes out.

"Wrong answer," he says and removes his fingers, making you shout in disappointment. Sharp slaps land on your wet cunt and you instinctively try to move away from it, but he grabs your legs, pulling you back. "Don't you fucking run from me."

"I'm sorry," you cry, looking pleadingly at him. "I'm- I'm yours James, yours to do what you want with. Please, please, please let me come!"

With a huff he pushes his fingers back in, pressing the tips into your g-spot and getting his thumb back on your clit. His unbothered state makes you feel so small and insignificant, heightening the pleasure coursing through you.

As it climbs, your body shakes, your legs trembling from being held open. "I'm- I'm- don't stop!" you beg. Closing your eyes you focus on the feeling of him, his other hand still gripping your thigh hard. You hope it bruises.

"I can feel you, slut!" Bucky's voice is the cherry on top of everything. "Come on my fingers, do it, come for me!" he commands and of course, you do as he wants. With a scream you convulse, almost pushing him out with the sensation flooding you. Bucky is talking above you but you're not sure what he's saying because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears.

A hard tap against your cheek makes you open your eyes. "Don't pass out on me, I'm not done with you yet." "Wouldn't dream of it," you smile dumbly, and it earns you a smile in return. But it quickly passes as he pulls off his tank top and pushes down his pants. The cock is just as big as you hoped.

He rubs the head against your soaked center, sending overwhelming sparks through you, making you twitch. When he notches the head of his dick at your opening your blood freezes. "C-condom?" you stutter.

Cocking his head he asks. "Do you really want that? Doesn't a slut like you want to be filled up with cum?" "Y-yes, but, Bucky…" you gnaw your lip.

"I want to fuck my little cum-bucket raw, make sure you feel me running out of you for days," he gives a light thrust, almost pushing inside, giving you a taste of heaven. For a second you look at each other and Bucky presses in just a little bit more. It decides it for you. "Please fill me with your cum Bucky, I need it so bad!" you whine and he chuckles before shoving his fat cock into you without mercy.

Quickly you wrap your legs around his hips, meeting his hard thrusts that are sending your body into overdrive. "Feel so fucking good sweetheart, your cunt was made for me, wasn't it?" he groans. "Yes it was," you answer breathlessly.

He grabs your face. "Those other losers are never going to satisfy you." "No, Bucky, only you!" "That's right, you're my fuckdoll now, sweetheart," he says before he leans down to kiss you. It's much sweeter this time and you grab his head, carding your fingers through his hair, feeling your chest fill with another type of warmth.

When he pulls back he says, "Beg me not to come in you." Your cunt clenches and your second orgasm is suddenly a lot closer. "Bucky, please don't… I can't get pregnant," you make your voice small and frail.

In response his laugh is cruel. "Yes you will, your purpose in life is to be bred. I'm going to cum in you every day til it sticks and then everyone will know who you belong to." "Please, pull out," you beg and reach down to rub your clit, feeling the climax shimmering underneath your skin.

"Such a bad liar, sweetheart," he chuckles. "Are you going to come on my cock? Are you gonna claim me just as I claim you?" "Yes! I just need- harder!" you pant. "Fucking hell," Bucky grunts and does as you demand.

The climax rips through you with little regard for your sanity. The sound leaving your throat makes it raw and a second later Bucky moans your name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. It's almost good enough to feel him finish inside you that you come again, but you’re too spent to do more than shudder.

Then he kisses you again, sweetly, caringly, and pushes his arms in under your body to hug you close to him. "So perfect," he whispers against your mouth. The cums start to trickle out onto the couch but neither of you care, too caught up in each other's lips.

"How are you doing sweetheart?" he asks when he comes up for a breath. "I feel a little high," you confess. "Haven't been fucked that good in a long time."

There is something in his gaze that shifts and he leans his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't take it anymore… I like you so much." "Lucky for you I get off on that stuff," you smile. "And if I had said stop I trust you would have."

He hugs you so hard you can hardly breathe. "Of course, I fucking would." "You can make it up to me by going tender the next time," you smile. "Next time?" "As many times as you’ll have me." He laughs into your skin. "I don't think you're ready for that!"

Suddenly the sound of the doorbell jerks the two of you apart. You stare at Bucky with wide eyes. "My date," you whisper, horrified.

With a smirk, he raises himself on his arms. "I should make you go on that date with my cum running out of you, maybe even let him get as far as spreading your legs just to see that you’re already claimed."

With a groan, you cover your face with your hands. "Don't tempt me," you tell him before wiggling out from under him, finding your clothes, and hastily pulling them on.

Opening the door just a crack, you understand you look a mess by the way your date eyes you. "Sorry," your voice is small. "I wasn't feeling great and then I fell asleep on the couch." "Yeah, you look terrible," the guy notes before handing you one of the ugliest bouquets you've ever seen. Quickly stepping away he says, "I'll call you." but you know he won't. "Great, I'll see you around," you respond before closing the door.

Bucky takes the flowers from you and shoves them in the trash before grabbing you around the waist and kissing you again. "Didn't you say he was promising?" "I have no clue what you're talking about," you answer with a completely straight face but then start to giggle as he swoops you up and carries you to his bedroom.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : MEET THE FAMILY : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Stark!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men & MCU

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After your dad, Tony Stark, finds out you’re dating Logan, he insists the whole Avengers team meet him. Nervous but with Logan by your side, you head to the compound, with Wade tagging along. The Avengers are curious and a little skeptical, especially Tony, but Logan holds his own during dinner. He impresses the team with his confidence and clear care for you, even earning Tony’s reluctant approval by the end of the night. Despite the initial tension, Logan becomes a part of your chaotic family, and everyone accepts him.

Part 2

THE COMPOUND WAS QUIET. Too quiet. You'd been on edge ever since Happy had called you that morning, voice full of that awkward yet endearing nervousness he always got when delivering bad—or rather, inconvenient—news.

“Your dad knows.”

Three words that had set your entire day into a downward spiral of anxiety. Of course, Tony would find out. He had eyes and ears everywhere, despite you trying to keep things on the down low. And now, he had apparently told everyone.

Your boyfriend, Logan, sat beside you on the drive to the Avengers compound, eyes fixed on the road, completely unfazed. He was never one to be easily rattled. He hadn’t even batted an eye when you mentioned the entire Avengers team was going to be waiting to meet him. If anything, he just lit a cigar and shrugged, saying, "Not the first time I've been sized up by a bunch of superheroes."

Logan was like that. Unbothered. Calm in the face of impending chaos.

Unlike you.

You let out a deep sigh, clutching the steering wheel a bit tighter. "You know, we could just make a U-turn right now," you muttered, hoping, praying he’d take you up on the offer.

Logan chuckled, the low rumble soothing and maddening all at once. "Nah, darlin'. We’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?"

"Logan, it's my dad. My dad, who, mind you, is Tony Stark. Genius. Billionaire. Overprotective father extraordinaire. I love him, but he’s going to grill you."

He smirked, one of those self-assured, slightly cocky looks that made your heart skip. "I’ve been through worse, trust me."

You were about to respond when a voice suddenly piped up from the backseat, startling you both.

“Hey, so what’s for dinner? I hope it’s not shawarma. I had that yesterday, and let me tell you, intestinal distress doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“Wade?!”

The red-suited mercenary, Wade Wilson—aka Deadpool—grinned as he popped his head between the seats. "Who else? You thought I’d miss a chance to meet the Avengers again? Besides, I’ve got a bet with myself to see which of them cracks first. My money’s on Banner. Big guy’s got a short fuse."

You groaned. “Wade, you weren’t even invited.”

"Yeah, but you love me," Wade said with a wink. "Plus, I’m the one who introduced you two lovebirds, so technically, I’m responsible for all of this.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a glint of amusement there. He had a weird, chaotic friendship with Wade that baffled you at times. Still, Wade had been the one to introduce you to Logan in the first place. After one of those typical Wade escapades where you'd found yourself smack dab in the middle of a multiverse-saving mission, Logan had swooped in, gruff and full of snark, but undeniably magnetic. You'd been hooked ever since.

"Alright, just... please don't say anything weird when we get there. This is already going to be awkward enough as it is."

Wade gave you a salute. "Scout's honor, kiddo."

~

When you arrived at the compound, Logan strode beside you, a protective yet calm presence. Wade, naturally, flanked the other side, completely unfazed by the prospect of facing a room full of Earth's mightiest heroes.

As you entered the living area, the first to greet you was not your father, but Morgan Stark, Tony’s precocious little daughter, who ran up to you with a big grin on her face.

"Hey, Morgs," you greeted, bending down to hug her.

Her eyes immediately shifted to Logan, who watched the interaction with a faint smile. "Is this him?" she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.

You nodded, a little nervous. "Yup. Morgan, this is Logan."

Morgan looked up at him with wide eyes, studying him. Logan crouched down to her level, his usually gruff demeanor softening just a bit. “You must be Morgan. Your sister talks about you all the time."

Morgan beamed. "You’re tall."

Logan chuckled. “And you’re smart.”

Morgan grinned and then, in typical kid fashion, dashed off, satisfied with her judgment. "I like him!" she called out as she disappeared into the kitchen.

One down.

Then the rest of the team filtered in—Tony, Pepper, Steve, Nat, Clint, Bruce, Thor, and even Rhodey. They all sized Logan up in their own way.

Tony, of course, was the first to speak.

"So," he said, voice casual but his eyes sharp, "this is the guy?"

Logan straightened up, meeting Tony's gaze with that signature, unflinching confidence. "Yup."

Tony took a moment, probably running a full background check in his mind before nodding. “Alright. Dinner’s almost ready, but first, I think the team’s got some questions.”

Steve, ever the diplomat, stepped forward with a polite smile. “Logan, right? How’d you two meet?”

Before you could respond, Wade butted in.

“Oh, it’s a great story!” he exclaimed, gesturing dramatically. “So, picture this—alternate dimensions, worlds colliding, typical Tuesday stuff. I’m getting my ass handed to me by some bad guys—”

“I don’t remember it that way,” you interjected.

“Shh, let me have this moment. Anyway, I call in Logan here for backup, because duh, claws and healing factor, and then boom, sparks fly between these two.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as her eyes flicked between you and Logan. "Sparks?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but Wade was too quick. "Like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Or maybe that was an explosion—I can't remember."

Logan sighed, clearly used to Wade's antics by now. “We met on a mission. Wade was being a pain in the ass, as usual. Your girl here held her own, and I liked that."

Your face heated up at Logan’s praise. You noticed Natasha and Steve exchanging a look. Clint leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, lips quirking up slightly as if he was already sizing Logan up.

“Multiverse missions, huh?" Clint finally said. "That must’ve been fun.”

Logan smirked, locking eyes with Clint, both men now in some sort of unspoken stare-off. “Fun's one way to put it.”

Clint didn’t break eye contact but gave a slow, approving nod. “So you’re used to the crazy life. Good.”

Thor, ever the enthusiastic one, stepped forward next, looking Logan up and down. "Ah, a fellow warrior, no doubt!" He clapped a hand on Logan's shoulder, earning a slight grunt from him. “Tell me, Logan, have you faced a frost giant before? Or perhaps a horde of dark elves?”

Logan gave a half-shrug, completely unfazed by Thor’s boisterous personality. “Haven’t seen those specifically, but I’ve fought my fair share of things with claws, teeth, and bad attitudes.”

Thor laughed heartily, clearly impressed. "Then we shall have many stories to exchange!"

Bruce, who had been hanging back, finally spoke up. "So, uh... any anger management issues we should be aware of?" He asked it cautiously, but you could see the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Wade snorted. "Banner, you're one to talk."

Logan just grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Let’s just say I know how to handle myself.”

Natasha’s gaze sharpened. "I’ve heard about you. Wolverine, right? Healing factor, claws, indestructible skeleton."

Logan nodded once. "That’s me."

She studied him for a moment longer, then gave a small, approving nod. “Impressive.”

Tony, though silent for most of the interaction, was still sizing Logan up. You could feel the weight of your dad’s expectations hanging over the room. He wasn’t one to just roll over and let things be.

“So, Logan,” Tony said, leaning back with a scrutinizing look. “You’ve been around a long time. Done a lot, I assume. How exactly do you plan on handling my daughter?”

Logan didn’t flinch under Tony’s gaze. Instead, he gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “She can handle herself just fine, Stark. But if you're asking if I’ve got her back? Always.”

The room went quiet for a beat. Even Wade had paused from whatever chaotic inner monologue he had going. The weight of Logan’s words, his seriousness, seemed to sink into everyone.

Tony’s eyes flicked to yours, and for the first time that night, his expression softened. A flicker of something—acceptance, maybe—passed across his face.

“Well,” Tony said, standing up and smoothing his shirt. “In that case, I suppose we should eat.”

As everyone began to move toward the dining room, you felt Logan’s hand slide into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You looked up at him, relieved to see a small smile playing on his lips.

“They like you,” you whispered.

Logan shrugged, but there was a warmth in his eyes. “More importantly, they love you.”

You leaned into him slightly as you both followed the rest of the Avengers. And as for Logan? He had passed the test.

~

As the group settled into the dining room, the mood shifted slightly—less tense, more familial. The Avengers took their seats around the long table, conversations gradually picking up, but you couldn’t shake the subtle glances they kept throwing Logan’s way. It was clear they were still sizing him up in their own way.

Logan, for his part, remained calm. He was good at reading a room, better at letting things roll off his back. You’d noticed that about him early on—he had this way of commanding a space just by being in it, without the need for flashy words or grand gestures. Even so, you could tell by the way his hand remained close to yours that he was paying attention to every little detail. Watching, listening, judging.

Morgan was seated next to Tony, happily talking to Pepper about something she’d done at school that week, her occasional glance toward Logan full of childlike curiosity and approval. To her, Logan wasn’t an intimidating figure. He was your boyfriend—nothing more, nothing less. The simplicity of it warmed your heart.

Dinner was served, and Wade, who had somehow managed to squeeze in between Natasha and Clint, immediately started in on a loud, entirely unprompted story about a mission in Madripoor that no one really asked for.

“So there I was, pinned down by a mob of highly trained ninja assassins—yes, they exist, Steve—and I’m about to go down for the count when Logan here comes in with the whole snikt, snikt thing,” Wade mimed Logan’s claws extending with dramatic flair, “and saves my beautiful behind from a fate worse than death: losing my taco night.”

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Right, because that’s clearly the priority in a life-or-death situation.”

“Exactly!” Wade pointed enthusiastically, as if Steve had just made his point for him. “This guy gets it.”

Natasha leaned back, smirking as she cut into her food. “So, Logan saved your life, and that’s how the two of you met?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Not exactly. Logan and I didn’t really meet officially until a little later. Wade just… happened to be there. Per usual.”

“Per usual, my dear?” Wade gasped dramatically. “You wound me. You wouldn’t have even met this tall drink of Canadian water if it weren’t for me!”

Logan gave a quiet grunt of amusement, though he didn’t say anything. Instead, he caught your eye, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as Wade continued his rambling story.

Thor, who had been listening intently to Wade’s increasingly exaggerated tale, turned to Logan, looking genuinely intrigued. “So, Wolverine, your claws—are they forged of enchanted metal, much like Mjölnir?”

Logan paused, mid-chew, and raised an eyebrow at the Asgardian. “Not exactly. Adamantium. Strongest metal on Earth. Had it grafted to my skeleton a long time ago.”

Thor nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Ah, I see! A most noble addition. I myself am well-acquainted with weaponry of such caliber. Though I must admit,” he leaned in slightly, “I would be most curious to see them in action.”

Logan gave a low chuckle. “Maybe after dessert.”

As the conversation drifted on, Logan slowly began to settle in. Steve asked him a few more questions about his past—carefully avoiding anything too personal or traumatic—and Clint, always the quiet observer, seemed to be assessing Logan from across the table, eyes sharp but not unkind.

Tony, meanwhile, hadn’t said much since dinner started. He watched everything, listened to everyone, but remained quiet, only offering the occasional comment or quip. You knew him well enough to recognize that he was still processing. As much as Tony trusted your judgment, the whole “overprotective dad” thing didn’t exactly disappear overnight.

“So,” Tony finally spoke up, setting his fork down as the rest of the table quieted. “You’ve been through a lot. War, battles, more than most people could handle in one lifetime. And yet, here you are.”

Logan glanced at him, not quite sure where this was going, but he nodded. “Yeah. Seen more than my share.”

Tony leaned forward, elbows on the table, and his gaze sharpened, narrowing slightly as if he was putting Logan through one last test. “My daughter’s important to me— really important. You say you’ve got her back, and I respect that. But if you’re sticking around… you’re gonna need to know one thing.”

The room stilled. Even Wade had gone quiet, which was a rare feat. Logan met Tony’s stare head-on, not a trace of intimidation or hesitation in his gaze.

“What’s that?” Logan asked evenly.

Tony exhaled, his expression softening—just a fraction. “This family? We’ve been through hell. Lost people we cared about. We’ve had our world flipped upside down more times than I can count. And the thing is… when you’re in, you’re in. No half-measures. No walking away when things get tough. You stick it out. You fight for the people who matter.”

Logan didn’t blink. His gaze shifted briefly to you, then back to Tony. “That’s how I’ve always lived.”

Tony nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. There was a weight to that moment, a silent understanding passing between them. Whatever final test Tony had in mind, it seemed Logan had passed.

Pepper, sensing the shift, smiled softly and placed a hand on Tony’s arm, quietly grounding him. “Dinner was wonderful,” she said warmly, breaking the tension. “I think we’ve had enough grilling for one night.”

Natasha smirked, raising an eyebrow at Logan. “You’ve survived the inquisition. Impressive.”

Logan shrugged. “Didn’t seem all that bad.”

Rhodey laughed. “You’re lucky. The last guy that showed up to date one of Stark’s kids? He didn’t make it past the appetizers.”

Tony snorted, shooting Rhodey a playful glare. “That’s because that guy showed up in a muscle car blaring AC/DC and quoting Shakespeare.”

“I thought you liked AC/DC?” you teased.

“I do. Not when it’s a first impression.”

Morgan, who had been quietly observing the back-and-forth, suddenly piped up. “Are you staying here tonight?” she asked innocently, looking up at Logan.

Logan blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “Uh…”

“Morgan,” Pepper began, her tone gentle but with that motherly undertone of “not now.”

“What? If he’s dating my sister, maybe he should stay!”

Wade, sensing an opportunity to cause more chaos, grinned beneath his mask. “Oh, I second that motion, mini-Stark! Logan here can bunk with me. I’ll show him my extensive collection of ‘80s action movies. It’ll be like a slumber party, only with more explosions.”

Clint nearly spit out his drink, trying to stifle his laughter, and even Natasha cracked a rare smile.

Logan, who had been stoic and composed throughout the entire evening, just shook his head. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

You burst out laughing, and as you glanced around the table, you saw that, little by little, Logan was beginning to fit in with the Avengers’ chaotic dynamic. Sure, there were still guarded looks and unspoken tests, but your family—both blood and found—was starting to accept him in their own way.

As dessert was served and the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you felt Logan’s hand rest on your knee under the table, a small, reassuring touch that grounded you. You leaned into him slightly, smiling to yourself. Maybe this whole thing hadn’t been as bad as you’d feared.

By the time the evening began winding down, Logan was in the middle of an animated conversation with Thor about battle strategies, Wade was loudly recounting yet another exaggerated mission story to anyone who’d listen, and Morgan had fallen asleep in Pepper’s arms.

Tony, now more relaxed, leaned over to you as the others chatted around the table. “So… Logan,” he said quietly.

You glanced at him, unsure of what was coming next. “Yeah?”

Tony gave a small, reluctant smile. “I still think you could’ve given me a heads-up earlier, but… he’s alright. I guess.”

You grinned, bumping your shoulder against his. “Told you so.”

Tony chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it.”

As the night wrapped up and the team slowly began to disperse, you and Logan lingered by the door. Tony walked up to Logan, offering his hand.

“Take care of her,” Tony said, his tone steady but genuine.

Logan gripped Tony’s hand firmly, meeting his gaze once more. “Always.”

With that final exchange, you left the compound with Logan by your side, Wade tagging along (of course). And as you drove away, your hand resting in Logan’s, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

Your family had met him. He’d met them. And while it hadn’t been perfect, it was the first step in blending the two worlds you cared so deeply about. In the end, Logan wasn’t just a part of your life anymore.

He was a part of theirs.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes

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[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Idia Shroud - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

Whew... Finally that pesky sun's gone down... Now, it's my turn to shine!

Summon: Fheeheehee, once I change into these clothes, I'm utterly invincible!! ...K, guess I'll go grab the birthday voice lines from my games, then.

Groovification: I wake up on my birthday with horrible bedhead and stiff joints everywhere after falling asleep during gaming... Ah, another wonderfully normal day!

Home: This is when my true form is unlocked...!

Swap Looks: I can fix my bedhead in a snap, so.

Home Transition 1: Haaah～ I need more soft things to cuddle... Maybe I'll buy a kitty-shaped cushion as a birthday gift for myself...

Home Transition 2: Cater-shi and the other guys in my class said to come by the classroom on my birthday and they'll celebrate with me... Well, unfortunately, I've got a stomachache planned for that day...

Home Transition 3: I snuck out to the Mystery Shop in the middle of the night and saw someone that looked just like Epel-shi covertly buying huge chunks of jerky. Or, was that a dream?

Home Transition - Login: Oh, a new high score! Looks like with the new memory upgrade, both me and my computer have gotten better! Fheeheehee!

Home Transition - Groovy: I can't believe he heard my mumbling to myself... A beastman's ーor ratherー Jack-shi's sense of hearing is something to be feared.

Home Tap 1: I may hate exercise, but I could dance and cheer to my fav idols for hours on hours... Never underestimate a fanboy's potential!

Home Tap 2: If I braided my hair like Jamil-shi does, maybe it'd look cool, like a flame whip... Nah, I'd definitely get teased for it. Nevermind.

Home Tap 3: Ah! Ortho's gonna get mad at me again that I left all my manga laying around. Guess I'll just have to clean it up with a bit of magic.

Home Tap 4: Why've there been waaaay too many good anime to watch recently!? I got not time to watch everything, there's still older masterpieces and movie adaptions I need to watch too!!

Home Tap 5: Since I'm just a shut-in pretty much all the time, it's not like I've set aside clothes for lounging and clothes for going out. I've even gone to town wearing this... You got a problem with that?

Home Tap - Groovy: Oh, this? It's a limited edition Premo shirt from one of their live performances. Hey, wait, you better not buy one from a reseller just 'cause they don't sell it anymore. Don't do it!

Duo: [IDIA]: I'm getting birthday wishes... from Jack-shi!? [JACK]: 'Cause it's your birthday, Idia-senpai!

Birthday Login Message: Hi... Need something from me? ...My birthday? Oh, well, now that you mention it! Th-Thanks... I completely forgot after Ortho wished me a happy birthday this morning... Did I get anything from anyone else? Wh-Wh-Why're you asking a loner like me that!? I p-pretty much just avoid everyone else, so. The most I did today was play with Azul-shi during our Boardgame Club time... Obviously I utterly crushed him!! ...Eh, you think he went easy on me 'cause it was my birthday? Uh-huh... If you really think that, how about a game, then? Don't come crying to me later after you lose, though, fheehee.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[mr-cha-n]

Through the Lens

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genres: Smut, fluff, photographer x model AU

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, sexual content, penetration, nudity

Word Count: 12.5k

Summary: Six months. Full access. Intimate photos. A glimpse into the world of celebrity. And the last thing Jeon Wonwoo thought he was signing up for.

A/N: Publishing a draft, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

The email arrives at the most inconvenient time, as all important emails do. Wonwoo had spent the entire day at the studio, taking newborn photos of a client’s latest chow chow—"latest" being bolded because this was the third time this year that he’d been called in for this client’s endless stream of puppies. By the time he’d finished, his body was ached raw from awkward angles, and his mind was numb from a six-hour editing marathon. He only managed to drag himself back to his flat after the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, craving the sweet refuge of solitude. 

Alas, he was dragged through a two-hour catch-up session with his flatmate, Mingyu, who, with his never-ending supply of caffeine and chatter, somehow managed to convince him to watch a movie about a guy who falls in love with his childhood friend who is also a ghost. (No, it didn't make sense, but Mingyu enjoyed it, and Wonwoo had long given up trying to follow his logic.)

By the time he collapses onto the couch, half-dead from human interaction, the email is waiting. 

"Subject: Assignment Confirmation: (Y/n) (Y/l/n)."

He groans as he clicks it open, his finger hovering over the delete button, ready to toss the whole thing into the digital voice. Then he reads the first line:

"Dear Mr. Jeon, we are pleased to confirm that you have been selected as the official photographer for the upcoming feature on (Y/n) (Y/l/n), world-renowned socialite and philanthropist."

"What in the world..." Wonwoo mutters. He doesn't even really remember submitting his name for this, and he's shocked he'd ever consider it. Wonwoo has long made a mental vow to avoid people like you - socialites, celebrities, influencers - whatever you call them. In the world of photography, they are all the same: walking photo opportunity with zero personality and way too much drama. Perfect for paparazzi, but not something he has time for. 

He's a quiet, detached observer of the world. He doesn't need to be a part of it.

But the email continues:

"We have full confidence in your ability to capture the raw and humanising side of Ms. (Y/l/n), giving our readers an intimate glimpse into her life, both public and private."

Raw? Humanising? Intimate? Which magazine is this again, the National Geographic?

His eyes flicker back up to the top of the email, growing wide as he sees the sender. Well, shit. Opus Magazine. He does remember applying for this, although, in his defence, they hadn't specified the subject of the op-ed when he'd submitted it. 

"We are excited to have you on board for this project, which will span the next six months. Your first shoot is scheduled for next Thursday, at 10 AM, at Ms. (Y/l/n)’s residence. We look forward to seeing how your unique perspective brings this project to life.

Thank you for your time and commitment.

Best regards, The Editorial Team Opus Magazine"

Wonwoo leans back, tilting his head toward the ceiling as if the world would offer him an answer. It doesn’t.

In all fairness, he has never actually met you before. But he's seen you everywhere. The perfectly curated Instagram feed. The charity galas. The interviews. The way you seem to be exactly what everyone wants you to be: flawless, effortless, untouchable.

A three-page approval form for every photo, he assumes. 

The door to the living room creaks open. "How are you not asleep yet?" Mingyu says cheerfully, poking his head in. Wonwoo glances at the clock on his screen: 2:43 am. He chooses not to point out that Mingyu's still awake too.

"I've been assigned to photograph (Y/n) (Y/l/n) for the next six months." Wonwoo grumbles, tapping his phone screen as if he could wipe away the whole thing with a swipe.

Mingyu's eyes widen in surprise. "Wait - (Y/n) (Y/l/n)? As in Forbes Under 30 (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?!"

"Yes. That one." Wonwoo replies flatly, eyes narrowing. "Six months. Full access. I'm going to want to die halfway through."

Mingyu looks delighted, clearly missing the gravity of the situation. "Ooh, this is going to be so fun! You're going to be all glamorous and -"

"No. No, I'm not," Wonwoo interrupts. "I'm going to hide behind my camera and take photos of her from so far away that she doesn't even know I'm there."

“Yeah, okay, Mr. Anti-Social. But—” Mingyu plops down beside him, grinning. “—what if she wants to get to know you?"

Wonwoo turns to him, unamused. "It's a professional gig to make her look good; she won't want me digging into her real life."

Mingyu, without missing a beat, grabs a bag of chips and shoves them into Wonwoo’s lap. “Just saying. People don’t come with Instagram models and high-profile gigs attached unless there’s something extra special about them, right? Maybe she’s a hidden gem.”

"Hidden gem?" Wonwoo scoffs. "Or a nightmare in designer shoes."

It doesn’t take long for Mingyu to bombard him with unsolicited advice. “... here’s my tip for you. Don’t just take boring photos. You know what’s going to make her stand out in the sea of perfect socialite portraits?” He paused dramatically. “Unfiltered moments. Catch her when she’s off guard. Capture her when she doesn’t know she’s being watched.”

Wonwoo shoots him a deadpan look. “What, you mean like stalking her?”

“I prefer the term artistic observation,” Mingyu replies, grinning mischievously. “Trust me. You’re going to fall in love with her vulnerability. You know, the real her. The one she hides behind all the glam.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, already regretting this conversation. He’s not even met you, and here Mingyu was, crafting an entire narrative of undiscovered depth based on nothing but a couple of well-lit photos.

Still, his finger hovers over the accept button. 

Six months. Full access. Intimate photos.

Maybe he should just ... get on with it.

Wonwoo hasn't actually met you yet and he's already regretting his decision. 

He's spent the past week alternating between panicking and ignoring the dozens of emails for your team, each one more frantic than the last. First, they sent a detailed itinerary of the shoot, followed by an even more detailed list of instructions on what he should wear, when to arrive, and what colour lens he should use for "optimal lighting" - as if he didn’t know how to work a camera by now.

9:00 AM, Inbox:

“Subject: URGENT: RE: Ms. (Y/l/n)’s Preferences for the Day”

“Good morning, Mr. Jeon,

I hope you're prepared for today’s shoot! Please note that Ms. (Y/l/n) prefers a soft light filter on all images, especially when she’s not directly posing. We’ve attached a sample of how she likes her candid photos to look (it’s very specific). Do ensure that you have the required lens, and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out.

Best, Assistant to Ms. (Y/l/n)’s PR Team.”

Wonwoo stares at the email for a moment, blinking. Soft light filter? Do you breathe, or do you simply exist in a perpetual soft-focus glow? His finger hovers over the "delete" button, but he refrains. He already knows this is a battle he’s not going to win.

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to get up. He throws on his jacket, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him worse than when he submitted his final portfolio at college, and the project hasn't even begun yet. There's no escaping now. He has to do it - he's been hired for this. Paid for it, too, which means he's legally obliged to at least try.

He arrives at the shoot location just before 10 AM: a sprawling, minimalist mansion that looks like it's been pulled from the pages of an interior design magazine. It's sleek, modern, and incredibly intimidating. The atmosphere is slick with an 'unapproachable luxury' vibe, and Wonwoo can already feel the tension in his shoulders as he steps out of his car. 

A member of the PR team greets him immediately, smiling far too brightly for someone who's probably already been working since 5 AM. "Mr. Jeon! So glad you could make it. Please follow me inside, Ms. (Y/l/n) is just getting ready.”

Wonwoo nods, trying to maintain the calm he doesn't really feel, muttering a "thank you" in response.

Inside, everything is sleek and spotless - nothing out of place, nothing too personal. Like no one's ever lived here. He's brought to a sitting room where the lighting is admittedly perfect. Almost too perfect. He's not used to working in these conditions. He's used to having to fix things last minute, create something out of nothing, or use the imperfections to his advantage. A soft hum of quiet chatter fills the air, and a stylist is busy adjusting something behind the curtain.

He doesn't know what he's expecting as you walk out. Maybe someone a little more ordinary, a little less polished than the figure seen in magazines. He's worked with models before, and they've always been so normal outside of shoots. But when you step into the light, it's like the room takes a collective breath. You're impossibly beautiful, even he can admit that, in that "perfectly put together, but effortless charming" way. Your smile hits him like a tidal wave, all dazzling teeth and liquid confidence, and for a split second, he forgets why he's here. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but what comes out is a dry, “Hello.”

You tilt your head slightly, looking him up and down with eyes that seem to see everything. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice smooth, almost teasing.

Wonwoo feels a flutter of unease in his chest, though he’s not sure why. It’s not like he hasn’t worked with famous people before, and yet something about you—something about the way you look at him—feels like an interrogation.

“Ah, well,” he stammers for a second, clearing his throat, “I… I hope it’s all positive.”

The smile on your lips doesn’t waver, but there’s something almost too sharp about it. The kind of smile that’s practised, like you’ve been wearing it since you were a child in front of mirrors, learning the exact angle for maximum charm.

“Oh, absolutely. You’ve got quite the reputation,” you say, as if it’s an afterthought. “They told me you’d be professional.”

Professional. Right. Because that’s exactly what he is. He’s always professional, no matter how much he wants to roll his eyes at the utter insanity of the situation. 

He offers a stiff nod. “Good. That’s what I’m here for.”

You smile again, but this time it’s softer. There's a flicker of something in your eyes, almost like amusement, but also curiosity. For a moment, Wonwoo wonders if he's just a novelty to you, something to poke at for fun. Or maybe you think you’re the novelty here, and he's just another player in the game you're used to winning. Either way, he can feel the weight of that gaze, and it’s not entirely comfortable.

You take a step closer, and Wonwoo resists the urge to take a step back. It’s like you have this gravitational pull—magnetic, impossible to ignore. But he’s not going to let that faze him. His eyes stay focused on your face, trying not to let your presence throw him off his game.

“So,” you say, tilting your head slightly, “what’s your plan for today? I’m assuming I’m not just going to stand here all day and look pretty?”

It's a light question, but he can hear the expectation in your voice. He’s used to people expecting things. It’s just—well, usually, it’s an email with 10 bullet points, not an interrogation delivered with a smile.

“I’ll take a few shots first,” Wonwoo replies, keeping his tone neutral. “Get the feel of the lighting. Then we’ll see if we need anything more posed.”

You nod, and decide the conversation is over, floating back over to the set.

Wonwoo lifts his camera, adjusting the settings to give himself a moment to settle down.

You stand still, not quite posing, but perfectly aware of your body. Everything about you seems calculated. Even your fingers, relaxed at your sides, seem to fall into the right positions at just the right time. It’s strange, though, because you’re not the robotic kind of poised he’s used to. There's a subtle looseness to you, a humanity that he doesn't expect.

“How does this work?” you say after a beat. “You just take my picture and call it a day?”

Wonwoo focuses on adjusting the lens, trying to suppress the slight frustration that’s bubbling up. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to take your picture. All he wants is to get the job done and move on.

But instead, he clicks the shutter. One, two, three shots in rapid succession. The light catches your face in a way that’s almost too good to be real, too perfect for anyone to be this unfailingly photogenic.

“Relax,” he mutters more to himself than to you. “Just act natural.”

You tilt your head again, this time a little more playfully. “Natural?” You raise an eyebrow, a soft chuckle escaping you. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what that is.”

Wonwoo’s finger freezes over the shutter, and he looks at you again, the barest hint of annoyance tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I’m sure you can manage."

You laugh then, a light, almost mythical sound, and for a moment, the tension in the room eases just enough for Wonwoo to breathe. “I’ll try. But no promises.”

He clicks another shot, and for the first time, something in his chest loosens. It’s not much—just a tiny shift—but it’s there. You’re... interesting.

“Tell me, Mr. Jeon,” you ask, your voice low. "I'm intrigued as to why you decided to do this shoot. What's your opinion on people like me?"

Wonwoo lowers the camera, the question catching him off guard. “What do you mean?”

You shrug, your gaze flicking toward the window, your expression momentarily unreadable. “People who live in the public eye. People who everyone thinks they know, but don’t. What’s your opinion on that?”

“People like you don’t need opinions,” he says, his voice flat, “because you already know how everyone feels about you.”

He’s being sharp. Cold, even. And he knows it. But he can’t help himself. This isn’t the first time he’s worked with someone who expects the world to revolve around them. It’s what they do. It’s why he keeps his distance.

You don’t react immediately. You just stare at him for a moment, your expression unreadable.

For a split second, he wonders if he’s crossed a line. But then your lips twitch, just the slightest hint of a smile.

“Well,” you finally say, your tone warm but still guarded, “I suppose that’s one way to see it.”

Wonwoo wants to say something else, maybe something witty or sarcastic, but he stops himself. Instead, he lifts the camera again, focusing on the next shot.

No matter how much he tries to bury it, Wonwoo can’t help but feel... a little intrigued by you.

Just a little.

The second shoot is at your apartment. 

Wonwoo had been floored when he'd found out - although the spotless nature of the first home had kind of given away that it wasn't actually yours. More than that, the fact that he, despite meaning to have creative control over the project, wasn't told that the purpose of the first shoot was to show a contrast between how people thought you lived and how you actually lived. Seemed like something he should have a say in.

As he arrives, the reality is different to what he'd imagined, and the opposite of the slick, minimalist mansion. 

Your apartment is, in a word, alive. The first thing that hits him is the colour. Bright hues of teal and mustard yellow leap off the walls, the kind of vibrant tones that feel like they belong in a 70s sitcom. The entire place seems to be a throwback to a cooler, bygone era, as if time itself was gently bent to live in this space. Mid-century modern furniture clashes with bold retro patterns—geometric prints, zigzags, and polka dots galore. 

The space is wide and open, but it’s not the sterile kind of open that’s all white walls and cold metal. No, this is a living, breathing room that demands attention with its quirk and charm. He prefers it.

The walls are covered in vintage posters from concerts, movies, and random ads from the 60s and 70s—faded, but still full of energy. One poster catches his eye in particular: it’s a photograph of an old jazz band in action, the colours almost washed out but still vibrant in their intensity. He notices that it’s not framed, just tacked on with mismatched pins as though it was thrown up without a second thought. It’s a detail that makes him think you probably chose it on a whim.

At the far side of the room, there's a vintage bar cart—wooden, with brass accents, stocked with various bottles and a large glass decanter that catches the light as though it’s waiting for its next cocktail to be poured. A small but proud collection of classic board games, with bright, cheerful colours that look like they belong on a childhood shelf, sits close next door. 

Despite the space being filled with vintage charm, there’s a kind of organised chaos to it all. The floor might have an old rug with faded patterns that don't quite match the couch, and the coffee table—half-full of magazines, books, and a stray mug—couldn’t be called tidy, but it’s the kind of mess that makes the space feel lived-in.

The thought makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

You lead him inside, wearing a loose, earthy sweater and faded denim jeans, a marked contrast to the polished image he’s gotten used to seeing in magazines. You still look beautiful, but comfortable. Not model-perfect. 

“You can set up wherever you’d like,” you say casually. Your voice is warm, and easy-going in a way that’s almost disarming.

Looking around, he realises for the first time that none of your team is here. And, weirdly, it unsettles him.

He finds himself pausing for a moment when he notices a worn book sitting on the coffee table, the edges curled with time. He’s always had a soft spot for books, the way their covers could tell so much about the person who owned them. And that book? It’s clearly one you’ve read over and over.

His fingers hover over his camera lens for a moment, and before he can stop himself, he mutters, “You read a lot?”

You glance over, surprised. “Hmm?”

“The book.” He gestures vaguely, “It looks well-loved.”

You laugh softly, a short, pleasant sound that makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t fully understand. “Oh, that? It’s nothing, really. Just something I found at a little bookstore in Paris. I’ve read it a million times, but... sometimes, it feels like you can always find something new in the pages, you know?”

Wonwoo opens his mouth, but no words come out. It's almost spinning his head around - the way that you're mixing together something so casual like a well-worn book with the detail that you got it in Paris. There's this weird grating of human and celebrity that he doesn't know how to deal with.

You seem to notice the shift in his gaze, your smile becoming a little softer. But instead of explaining more, you walk over to the window and lean against the frame, glancing outside. “So, how do you want to do this today?” you ask, clearly trying to get back on track.

Wonwoo nods, snapping himself back into work mode. “Let’s start with some natural shots,” he says briskly, pointing to the light streaming in through the window. “You can stay by the window, maybe. I’ll catch the light.”

You agree without hesitation, sitting down on the frame. 

The shots begin. You sit, your eyes thoughtful but distant, as if lost in some thought. He clicks the shutter a few times, and the room is silent except for the rhythmic sound of the camera.

The more he shoots, the more he finds himself paying attention to the small things. The way you absentmindedly twirl a lock of hair between your fingers. The way your posture softens after a few minutes, like you’re forgetting he’s there, and yet still poised.

The next shot clicks, and you look up at him, catching his eye. 

“Is that good?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He swallows, feeling a slight tension in his throat that wasn’t there before. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

The words come out without thinking, and he can feel his cheeks flush slightly at the sincerity with which he says them. He's fiddling with his camera settings again, trying to adjust the light for the shot, as you sidle over to the small vintage record player near the window. The soft crackling sound of a jazz record fills the air. 

He doesn’t expect it when you suddenly speak, your voice soft but with an underlying curiosity.

“So,” you say, not turning around, your fingers gently tapping against the edge of the record player, “I’ve been wondering… you’ve been pretty quiet this whole time. Not like the others. Why is that?”

Wonwoo glances up, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” He doesn’t look at you directly, still adjusting the focus on the lens, anything to avoid eye contact.

“I mean,” you laugh lightly, spinning the record player’s dial, “everyone else I work with is always talking. About work, about their lives, about whatever’s trending—people like to talk, especially when they’re nervous. You’re the only one who hasn’t said much about anything.”

There’s an open quality in your tone, no judgment, no pressure, just curiosity. And for some reason, that makes him feel even more exposed than if you had pried into his personal life directly.

“I guess I’m not a fan of small talk,” Wonwoo mutters, setting the camera down a little too abruptly, feeling a tightness in his chest. “I don’t really need to fill the silence.”

You turn to face him then, and for the first time, he notices how unguarded your expression is. There’s no fake smile or calculated pose—just an interested look.

"I get that," you say, your voice now quieter, almost thoughtful. "But... do you ever feel like you miss out? I mean, silence is... great, but it’s also really lonely sometimes, isn’t it?"

"Not really,” he says, not meeting your gaze. “I’m fine with being on my own. I’ve always preferred it.”

You tilt your head, studying him with an intensity that makes him shift uncomfortably. "You know," you say, taking a step toward him, your voice soft but deliberate, "I always thought I’d be fine alone too. It's funny how we get so used to being surrounded by people, by noise, by the ‘right’ kind of company—when, in the end, it’s really the silence that’s the most honest."

Your words sink into him, a little unexpected, a little disorienting. There's a weight to them—like you’ve really thought about this. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his voice less guarded, almost teasing, but there’s an edge of curiosity there too.

You pause for a beat, a soft smile playing on your lips. There's something mischievous in the way your eyes twinkle. "Well," you begin, you're voice light, "what I mean is that maybe the real stuff gets lost when you get too good at hiding behind the quiet."

He raises an eyebrow, but before he can reply, you finish with a playful, almost theatric sigh: "Or maybe I'm just trying to get you to talk. You know, because I certainly don't want to be the only one in the spotlight in this room. It's exhausting, really."

He can't help it—he laughs. A quiet, breathy sound, but it’s real. Something about the absurdity of it all. Something about the way you deflect it all with that charming, nonchalant smile.

"You're a work in progress," you grin wider, eyes narrowing. "But I'm going to crack you open."

Wonwoo is still chuckling, a disbelieving snort of laughter he can't hide. He leans back in his chair, running his hand through his hair as he studies you with a wry smile. "Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’m the one who needs cracking open," he says, his tone half teasing, half resigned, as if he’s already lost the battle.

You pause for a moment, surprised that you've actually got him joining in on your jokes. But you don't press. Instead, you give him a sideways grin and lounge out over your statement, mustard couch. "Tell me, Mr Jeon - do you still think your opinion of me doesn't matter? Should I go back to hiding behind the perfect image for you to capture what everyone else already thinks of me?"

Wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head. He can’t deny that something about you has started to chip away at his carefully cultivated indifference. "I don’t think you could ever hide, even if you tried."

The jazz record continues to hum in the background, and Wonwoo starts to wonder if he's finally found something worth shooting beyond the lens. 

When he makes it back home, the camera bag feels heavier than usual, and the moment he closes his front door, he's hit when the familiar sense of quiet. 

He dumps the camera bag on the kitchen counter and heads straight for his desk, flipping open his laptop with the enthusiasm of someone who’s about to dive into hours of editing. The usual dread of looking through the pictures fades as he opens the files. He didn’t think he’d be so invested in this shoot, especially not with you, of all people. But the truth is, the moment he starts scrolling through the shots, he’s a little bit stunned.

There are candid moments of you, captured so naturally. Your hair falls in your face as you laugh at something he barely remembers, the light coming in through the window bathing you in that soft golden glow like you were born for this. The quiet, unguarded moments—your fingers absentmindedly tapping against the coffee table, your eyes softened with a thought he’ll never fully know.

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until the shot where you’re sitting by the window, gazing out at the street, completely oblivious to the lens. It’s raw. And weirdly, it’s beautiful in a way he didn’t anticipate.

With a sigh, he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

And damn it, now he’s got to figure out how to keep it professional when all he wants to do is scroll back through these photos of you for the next few hours.

He grabs his coffee again, takes another sip, and mutters under his breath, "What’s the point of professionalism, anyway?"

Wonwoo is not thrilled about attending the gala. In fact, he's pretty sure if he could just get lost in the crowd and pretend he's not there, he would. But, alas, work. He's there, standing awkwardly by the hors d'oeuvres table, holding the camera like it's a shield. The entire place is dripping in opulence - golden chandeliers, champagne towers, and a sea of glittering gowns and tuxedos so shiny they could be mistaken for mirrors.  It's the kind of event where everyone’s either a billionaire or pretending to be one.

And then, of course, there’s you.

You move through the room like you've got a personal spotlight, laughing with people he's never heard of, shaking hands with people he has. The dress you're wearing is stunning, too, naturally - deep emerald green, with a neckline just high enough to make it look elegant but low enough to make him briefly question his entire career as a photographer. He should be focused on the job. But you're flashing that perfect smile, chatting with rich old men and influencers alike, completely different from the version of you he saw in your apartment just a week ago, laughing over a worn book.

He watches you interact with the other guests, a dance of small talk, well-placed compliments, and calculated interest, and suddenly, he feels like he’s been shrunk down to the size of a cockroach. If someone took a photo of him, An intruder in your world would be the title. The camera, which he thought would make him feel a little less out of place, feels heavy in his hands, as though it might give away the fact that he’s just not meant to be here.

You glance in his direction, catching his eye from across the room. He freezes. He can almost hear you sighing internally before you offer a small, knowing smile.

"Mr. Jeon!" Your voice floats toward him over the clink of glasses and high-pitched laughter. "How are we doing? Getting some good shots?"

He stares at you, blinking. You’re asking him in that casual, sweet tone that’s just different from your “public persona” voice. It’s like a crack in the glass, and he suddenly feels... disoriented. The contrast is so stark that for a second, he forgets how to respond.

"Uh—yeah, I mean, everything’s fine," he stammers, adjusting the camera lens like it might offer him some sort of escape from his discomfort. "Just, you know. Capturing the glamour." He motions vaguely at the glittering scene around him, feeling more awkward by the second. His fingers hover over the shutter button, but they hesitate.

You laugh, a polite, rehearsed sound. "Ah, yes. Glamour. The thing I do so well." You flash him a smile that could melt diamonds and suddenly he feels like he’s about two seconds away from accidentally snapping a picture of his own nervous breakdown.

The silence between you stretches just long enough for him to feel like the entire room is waiting for him to speak. He clears his throat. "It’s... different, isn’t it? Here?"

You tilt your head slightly, raising an eyebrow, as if trying to gauge whether he’s joking or not. "Different?" You laugh again, but this time it’s more self-deprecating. "I guess. But it’s what I’m used to. The lights, the faces. I mean, it’s all a bit much sometimes, but..." You trail off, and for a second, it feels like you're letting something slip.

But then someone else approaches you, pulling you into a conversation about some charity auction or art gala (he stops paying attention, realising he’s been trying to capture your attention too long), and just like that, the moment is over. You slip right back into the role, offering another perfect smile, your body language straightening, as if you’re suddenly filled with all the energy you didn’t seem to have a second ago.

The space feels suffocating all of a sudden, and Wonwoo wonders if he should have stayed home, maybe edited a few more of those photos, or gone for a walk—anything to avoid being a part of this gilded zoo. He looks through the lens, catching another shot of you laughing with an older gentleman, your hand resting lightly on his arm. 

A loud crash breaks through the air.

Wonwoo's head snaps in the direction of the sound, instinctively lifting the camera as if it's somehow going to make sense of the situation. 

He spots a waiter, wide-eyed and mortified, standing frozen next to a toppled champagne tower. Glasses are shattered everywhere, a sea of bubbly liquid spilling across the pristine white carpet like some kind of modern art installation.

The room falls into a hushed silence.

He can feel the collective tension, the people who’d been laughing and chatting a second ago suddenly stiffening in disapproval. Someone gasps—probably just for dramatic effect—but the truth is, everyone’s too rich, too important to react with anything other than mild disdain. A few uncomfortable glances are exchanged, and one of the older men starts muttering under his breath, his hands clutching his glass like it’s a lifeline.

And then, like someone flipping a switch, you’re there.

You glide through the crowd with a purposeful ease that makes everything else fade into the background. People part for you as though they know exactly what you’re about to do. The smile that had been plastered on your face during the earlier conversation is gone, replaced with a soft, serious expression, one that’s sharp in its concern.

"Excuse me," you say, your voice suddenly commanding but not unkind. Wonwoo can tell the waiter is waiting for the blowout, the yelling, the anger - but it's not there.

"It's alright, don't worry. It's just a few glasses. Are you hurt?"

The waiter shakes his head, and you kneel down beside him to start gathering up the broken shards of glass with careful motion. "Let me help, then."

The people around you are still hesitant, staring awkwardly, unsure whether they should step in or just stand back and pretend like nothing's happening. But you’re focused on the task at hand, moving with precision, completely unaffected by the sea of disapproving looks that surround you.

Wonwoo finds himself frozen again, his camera half-raised. His finger hesitates on the shutter button, unsure if he should capture the moment. You don’t seem to care about the image you're creating, not in the way you do for the cameras. Here, you’re just someone helping out, unbothered by the chaos unfolding around you. 

After you finish clearing up the last of the glass, you stand up and dust your hands off, flashing a quick smile to the waiter, who looks completely relieved. You stand tall, taking in the now-silent room with a playful glint in your eye.

“Well," you say, wiping your hands on your dress, "I always knew I was good at breaking the ice, but I didn’t think it’d be literal this time."

The room goes quiet for a beat, and then, just like that, a few people start to chuckle. Someone claps lightly, another offers a small cheer, and the tension evaporates into a burst of laughter.

You throw your hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, don’t all applaud at once. Just trying to keep things interesting around here."

With that, the conversation picks up again. The guests move, shift, and suddenly, the night feels like it’s back in motion. Wonwoo watches from a distance, surprised at how quickly the entire atmosphere shifted. You just defused the room with a smile and a joke, as if it had all been part of the plan.

"Hey," you're walking up to him, stepping into his personal space as the final whirlwind of flashing cameras wraps up an evening of too many glasses of champagne and handshakes that feel more like a chore than a greeting. "What are you doing after this?"

Wonwoo looks up, startled. "Uh, I… well, I was just going to head back. Got a few edits to finish up," he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

You tilt your head, studying him with a slight grin. "That sounds like fun," you tease. "But I’m guessing it’s not exactly going to be a good time."

He pauses, feeling almost embarrassed for a moment, before shrugging. "I guess I could skip it."

A small beat of silence passes between you, and then you speak again, quieter this time. "You know," you start, your voice softer than before, "if you don’t have anything better to do... I’d, uh, actually kind of like to go out. No fancy people, no cameras. Just… I don't know, something normal."

Wonwoo looks at you for a beat, wondering if you're asking him to go with him, as the corners of his lips twitch upwards. "You mean no red carpets and champagne?"

You laugh, soft and genuine. "Exactly," you say, your voice laced with a touch of vulnerability. "Just, you know, being normal for once."

The way you say "normal" almost makes it sound like a forbidden word in your world, and Wonwoo feels a flicker of something.

"I’m in," he says, the words slipping out before he can think too much about them.

You give him a small, almost shy smile. "Alright. You follow me."

It’s an hour later, and you’re driving through the city, the sound of the tyres on the road mixing with the faint hum of the radio. You didn’t tell him where you were going, just that it was "something fun." Wonwoo’s pretty sure you’ve never driven anywhere that didn’t require a driver, but here you are—on a small, crowded street near the heart of the city, pulling up to a diner with neon lights flickering like they haven’t been replaced in a decade.

"This place?" Wonwoo asks, looking out the window at the 24/7 diner with its retro sign and low-key vibe.

"Yep. We said normal, right? Well, this is as normal as it gets."

He raises an eyebrow, but before he can protest, you’re already getting out of the car, leaving him no choice but to follow.

Inside, it’s a whole different world. The diner smells faintly of coffee and fried food, and the clink of mugs and chatter of a few late-night patrons makes the place feel strangely cosy. There’s a jukebox in the corner, and despite the place being stuck in a time warp, you both sit down at a booth, the vinyl seats creaking under you as you slide in.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the normal kind of silence that feels more like breathing than awkwardness. And then, finally, you speak.

"You want to know something crazy?" You say, looking down at the menu, though you made it clear in the car that you've already memorised it. 

Wonwoo looks up, his brow furrowing slightly as he nods.

"This is probably the first time in a while I haven't felt like I have to perform. Which is, actually, crazy. Because I'm hanging out with a professional photographer who's being paid to capture every moment of my life." You let out a disbelieving scoff, your lips curling into a grimace-like smile.

"I get that," he replies, his voice softer than he expects. "It's different for me too. I'm not sure I remember the last time I spoke to any of my friends, other than my flatmate, who insists that we have a catch-up meeting every day."

You chuckle, the crinkles of your smile flattening out. 

The waitress arrives, interrupting for a moment, and you order a milkshake without hesitation. He orders something random, revelling in the thrill of not thinking too much about anything.

"I get lonely sometimes," you say after your order arrives, so quietly that Wonwoo almost misses it. "I know it’s weird, I mean, people are always around me. But it’s like... they don’t really see me. They only see the version of me they expect."

He's not sure if you're still tipsy, although the rosy flush of your cheeks suggests so, or if you now feel very comfortable with him. 

Wonwoo isn’t sure what to say, so he just lets the silence settle for a moment, letting your words hang in the air like a soft echo.

"You know," he says after a beat, his voice lighter than before, "I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who can juggle both a charity gala and a diner milkshake at 3 AM with such grace."

You snort, blowing bubbles into the drink that leave splashes of pink liquid sizzling on the diner table. The sight is enough to set Wonwoo off too, laughter spilling out of him in a way that's only possible in the early hours of the morning. 

"I should take a photo of that," he chuckles as you give him a large grin, the straw still sticking out of your teeth as you mop up the spilt drink. 

But he doesn't. Doesn't even think to take his camera out of its bag. 

Instead, he just watches you—really watches you—for the first time tonight, as you sit there, messy and unapologetic, with your eyes twinkling. And you're not the person everyone in the ballroom thought you were. 

"Maybe we should do this more often," you say, your voice unexpectedly soft as you look up at him. 

Wonwoo nods, the corner of his mouth curving up in the smallest of smiles. "Yeah. Maybe we should."

You've taken a surprising interest in Wonwoo’s regular work. Since you got him to admit that this project wasn’t really his usual gig, you've made it your personal mission to dig deeper. 70% of your questions have revolved around what he actually enjoys doing, the kind of work that doesn’t come with velvet ropes or high society guests. It’s a little like watching a puzzle slowly get pieced together—a mixture of curiosity and the way you just can't let go of something that intrigues you.

So, when you mention, "I think it's only fair you show me what you usually do," it’s not entirely out of the blue.

"Alight, alright," Wonwoo mutters, realising that he owes it to you to let you peek inside his world too. "But don't expect anything glamorous. Magazine spreads don't feature heavily."

Your eyebrows shoot up in an exaggerated gasp that has him rolling his eyes. "I'm not expecting you to change into a suit and tie, if that's what you're worried about." You grin. "but if you do, I'll totally snap some behind-the-scenes shots."

"Don't get any ideas," he mutters, but there's a soft laugh behind his words. 

You look like an archaeologist discovering ancient treasures as you step into the studio, and Wonwoo has to resist the urge to photograph the look on your face. He wasn't lying when he said it wasn't much, but it's quieter than the outside world, which is just the way Wonwoo likes it. The walls are lined with a few scattered prints, some framed, others just leaning against the wall, like they’ve been left to gather dust for the sake of catching a different light. The easel in the corner holds the remnants of his last attempt to paint, the workbench cluttered with film rolls, empty coffee cups, and a few stray brushes.

You pause in the doorway, taking it all in.

"So," you begin, "where's the real deal? Show me your favourites."

He shrugs and walks over to a table filled with various photo equipment, adjusting his glasses as he picks up a roll of film. "I’m not sure what you’d consider my 'thing,' but I mostly shoot for personal projects. I like experimental work. I mean..." He looks over at you, and for a second, there's a flicker of something more, something deeper. "I like showing things that don't get seen. Telling stories that don’t get told."

You step further into the room, your curiosity piqued. "The more I learn, the more I marvel at the fact that you chose to do photograph me," you tease. 

He looks back at you, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "It's good to try new things sometimes. And, well ... I'm not so sure you're story has been entirely captured yet."

He pulls a print down from a shelf, careful with the edges, and walks over to where you're sitting. "This," he says, sitting next to you, "is one of my newer pieces. It’s… different from the usual stuff I shoot. It’s a little raw, a little wild."

The picture is a little hard to make out - a blur of colours and light, like a dream caught in motion. There's an image of a figure - slightly distorted and bathed in neon blue and orange, wrapped in streaks of light that seem to bend and curve in ways that don't make sense. It almost looks like the figure is dissolving into the frame itself, as though they’re becoming part of the world rather than a separate subject within it.

"It’s a long exposure," he continues, "but I played with the focus to distort things more than I usually do. You can see the movement in it—like the person isn’t static. They’re not just there. They’re changing. Becoming."

You tilt your head, your gaze flickering back and forth as you try to make sense of the image.

"It’s unsettling," you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

Wonwoo nods, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "That’s what I like about it. People always expect something clear, something neat when they look at photos. But sometimes, the chaos is what’s real. The blur, the overlap of light, it’s how I see things."

"It’s like… you know when you try to hold onto a moment, but it keeps slipping away? That’s what this is. The image is still, but everything around it keeps moving. It doesn’t stay still, no matter how much you want it to."

You reach out, fingertips brushing the edge of the frame, tracing the glowing streaks of light. "It’s almost like you’re trying to capture the space between things."

He pauses, eyes flickering to yours as if reading your expression. "It’s like that with people, too, right? You think you know them, but then they change. Or maybe you change. And all of a sudden, you’re looking at them and wondering who they really are. Who they were. Who they’re becoming."

You’re silent for a moment, but your gaze hasn't left his and it's piercing into him with all of the unspoken words.

And then you're eyes snap to something behind him, and he feels a little empty in the void of your gaze. A small smile slips across your lips. And you're gone, moving quickly out of your seat to get a closer look at whatever has pulled you away from him.

Wonwoo's head swivels around, like if he loses sight of you, you'll disappear. 

"Now, this is unexpected."

Your voice is laced with that mischievous tone, and it snaps Wonwoo back into reality, his gaze darting to where you're now standing, eyes fixated on the shelf behind him.

He feels his cheeks heat up before he even registers why. The camera equipment on the shelf, partially obscured by a few stray photo albums, is a large, well-worn camera with an impressive lens. But it’s not the camera that’s got your attention—it’s the stack of photos beside it.

He swallows. "Oh, those. They're… um, just some old shoots,” he mutters, reaching for the pile as quickly as he can.

But you're already stepping closer, your grin widening as you grab one from the top of the stack. Your eyes light up as you hold it up, and it’s immediately clear why you’re grinning. 

The photo is a high-end fashion shot, one of those artsy ones. It features a model—clad in nothing but strategically placed shadows and some very expensive body paint, in what can only be described as sultry poses. The subject's entire form is captured with the kind of grace and sensuality you normally associate with glossy magazines and high-end ads.

You raise an eyebrow. “So… this is what you’re hiding in here?”

Wonwoo, face flushed to a shade of pink that doesn’t belong anywhere near a professional photographer, clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s not what you think. It was a concept shoot. A long time ago. For... art.”

“Art.” You repeat the word slowly, like you're savouring it. “A concept shoot. Right.” You peer closer at the picture, almost squinting like you’re studying the fine details. “Well, I have to say, I didn’t expect you to have such a niche portfolio.”

He snatches the photo from your hands, but you’re quicker than him, leaning in just a little too close for comfort. "Come on, don't be shy. I'm sure these shots went for a pretty penny. You should be proud of them."

 “It was a collaboration with a friend. We were experimenting with lighting and shadows. It wasn’t meant to be, like, that kind of shoot.”

You tilt your head and flash him a teasing smile. "Right. I'm sure it was all very tasteful."

“Stop it,” Wonwoo says, his voice a little more high-pitched than usual. He starts sorting through the other photos quickly, trying to hide the embarrassing ones. “There were plenty of clothes involved, okay? I mean, mostly clothed. Sometimes there weren’t.”

You laugh—genuine and loud—and Wonwoo has never felt more like a teenager caught in a lie.

"Don’t worry." You lean back casually, looking him up and down. “I’m not judging. Everyone needs a little fun with their camera work. Besides, I bet your models really appreciated your... attention to detail.”

“Oh my God, stop," he groans, hands covering his face.

"Oh, I know!" You jump up, the wideness of your grin setting of alarm bells in his head. Your body contorts into a lewd pose he's sure is captured in one of the photos. "Maybe you could shoot me like one of your French girls."

Wonwoo's brain is split in half between wanting to laugh at your stupid joke, and trying to stop his mind from digging any deeper into the way you look right now. He's never been more thankful for someone laughing so hard at their own joke that it gives him the time to remember to laugh too.

"Okay, okay, seriously though." You say, your words punctuated with breathy laughs. "I'd like to do a shoot in your style. Even if you don't use it for the feature, I'd like to have them - a little memory of the project."

He’s not sure what to make of it—after all, he’s never shot anything like that with someone like you. It’s one thing to let a stranger model for his more experimental projects, but someone who’s become... well, important to him? That complicates things.

You seem to sense his hesitation, so you quickly soften your expression, dropping the teasing tone. “I mean, no pressure. You don’t have to,” you add, but your smile stays. “I just think it would be fun, you know? Something a little out of the ordinary.”

He shifts on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to think of a way to deflect without sounding awkward.  But then, he catches the way you’re looking at him—expectant, yet light-hearted. And he knows there’s no way he can say no. And the idea of capturing you in his world - through his lens - is far too appealing.

"Alright," he finally says, "“I could set something up. But it won’t be anything like what you’re imagining,” he warns, though the faintest glimmer of a smile tugs at his lips. “You might hate it.”

"I highly doubt it." Your grin widens, and you step closer. "The camera loves me."

He struggles to disagree.

You follow Wonwoo into a dimly lit loft space. The high ceilings make the place feel vast and open, but the shadows, thick and heavy, seem to swallow any trace of warmth. The windows let in just enough light to make the space feel like it’s holding its breath. Concrete floors, industrial beams, exposed brick—this place is a world apart from the glamorous venues he's captured you in so far. 

There's no luxurious set, no artfully arranged props, no stylists running around with last-minute adjustments. Just you and him. And a collection of cameras, lenses, and other mysterious equipment scattered about the space.

"We'll start here," Wonwoo's voice is firmer than he intends, and he hopes you can hear the edge of excitement underneath his words. He’s already moving toward the equipment, setting up the camera on a tripod with a smooth, practised hand.

You take a deep breath, looking a little more nervous than he expected. "What's the concept? Just… me in a room full of shadows?” You try to make light of it, but your voice betrays a hint of apprehension.

He glances over his shoulder, catching your gaze for the briefest moment, and his lips curl into a faint smile. “Something like that. I want to capture you as you are, not as the world expects you to be.”

He steps toward you, then pauses. “But it’s up to you. You can be whoever you want to be in front of the camera.”

You take a breath, almost like you're accepting something, and step deeper into the room. Wonwoo can feel his pulse pick up just a little. Something about your movements makes it hard to look away, even as he tries to keep his focus on the camera. 

As his gaze probes deeper, Wonwoo realises something. You're so used to being a perfect image that now, here, in the quiet, you have no idea what to do with yourself.

His breath catches as he presses the shutter for the first time. The soft click breaks the silence, but he doesn't lower the camera. His eyes stay on you, unable to tear away; even if he should be focused on the technicalities - the lighting, the exposure, the composition - he's not. He's seeing the cracks. The little parts of you that you've been hiding. 

Another click. And another. His fingers move over the controls, adjusting the focus, framing you just so - but all the while, acutely aware of every tiny shift in your body. The way you inhale, the way you let go of something hidden, and your shoulders relax, just slightly. 

"Good," he murmurs, though he barely recognises his own voice. The words are soft, his tone low, almost like a breath rather than a command.

You shift again. There's no thought to it, just a fluid movement, as if you're letting go of some invisible restraint. It's an instinctive thing, Wonwoo realises. You're not really posing anymore.

The camera clicks again, capturing the stillness in you, the way you seem to dissolve into the shadows, becoming part of the room. Part of the moment. He knows instantly that it's going to be his favourite.

For a split second, he wonders if you know what you're doing to him. If you know how you're affecting him, even without meaning to. His heart beats a little faster. 

He doesn't lower the camera, not yet, not wanting to lose the moment.

"Okay, that's enough," he says finally, voice low and deliberate. Even as he says it, he's not sure if he wants to stop. He wants more. But it's not just the image he's chasing now. It's something else. 

You reemerge, the colour of your confidence returning as you step out of the camera frame. "Was that okay?"

Wonwoo isn't completely sure what to say in response. If he should tell you that he wants to restart the entire feature, or that he's never felt like he's seen anyone as much as he just did. So he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I want you to see the full vision, so I'll show you once they're edited, but I think they're going to be the best ones."

A beaming smile is released onto your face. It's heart-wrenchingly endearing how proud you are of yourself. "I'm so glad. I don't know if you noticed, but I was a little nervous about this one."

He lets out a little chuckle, his head hanging slightly as he looks to the floor, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips. "I couldn't tell. You were," he clears his throat, hands moving to adjust the settings on the camera again, "perfect. And I mean it. It's ... not just the shot. It's you." The words come out in a rush, but even as he says them, he’s certain they’re true.

He wonders, fleetingly, if you hear the difference. If you sense the subtle change in his tone—the way he can’t quite look away from you now, the way his eyes linger just a little too long.

You don’t respond immediately, and for a brief, agonising second, he’s unsure of how you’ll take it. Will you laugh it off? Will you brush it aside with that carefree charm you wear like a second skin?

But then, your smile softens, your gaze a little less playful, and you step closer. "Do we need any more?"

"I don't think so," he pauses. "Unless there's anything you want to try?"

"Well..." You look nervous, like you're trying to make your mind up about something. Your fingers play absently with the sleeve of your shirt, tugging at the fabric as if it’s a lifeline. "Maybe ... maybe I could try something different?"

Wonwoo's eyes flicker up to meet yours. He's not quite sure what you're asking, and it both terrifies and excites him in ways he's not ready to admit. He leans back slightly, considering it.

"It's your shoot," he says softly, "If you want to do something different, we can. You sound like you've got something in mind?"

You exhale slowly, and the air feels thick, drawn tight with possibility. There’s a hesitation in the way you look at him, but then you take a step forward, your presence commanding yet gentle, a stark contrast to the vulnerability in your eyes.

"The photos in your studio," your voice is soft and low, as though the words themselves are a kind of confession. "The ones ... with no clothes." Your gaze flickers briefly, almost shy, before you steady yourself again. "I want to try that. I want to see what that feels like."

Wonwoo blinks at you, his breath hitching for just a second as the words register. His fingers instinctively tighten around the camera, but he doesn’t lower it. He can’t look away from you now.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rougher than he intended, though it’s more a response to the sudden surge of emotions than anything else. The suggestion itself isn’t unfamiliar, but the weight of it, coming from you, catches him off guard.

You nod slowly. 

He breathes slowly, trying to steady himself, but the air feels tight, like his lungs have forgotten how to expand properly. Wonwoo clears his throat, suddenly aware of the weight of the camera in his hands—of how utterly out of place it feels now. He thought he had control of this situation, of this shoot, of everything. And now he feels entirely, completely, out of control.

"Okay," he says finally, voice low, his throat dry.

You exhale, a small, almost imperceptible breath of relief, and for a moment, you both just stand there. Wonwoo watches you, his gaze tracing the small movements of your fingers, the way you breathe, the slight shift in your posture. You’re standing there, raw and vulnerable in a way that no one else ever sees, and yet you’ve asked him to witness it.

His chest tightens.

"Whenever you're ready," he murmurs, trying to sound as professional as possible, but the words come out softer than he means. He takes a step back, his heart pounding louder now, but he’s not sure if it’s from the anticipation of the shot or something else entirely.

You move slowly, agonisingly slowly, towards the chair that's hidden in the corner of the room and pull it into the camera frame. The clip holding your hair back is the first thing to go, and even watching you shake the tresses free feels like a glimpse of something he's not meant to see. Wonwoo's breath hitches as your fingers hesitate against the buttons of your shirt.

You look up at him, eyes glittering in the light of the loft. "Can you talk me through it?"

Wonwoo gulps, his brain desperately trying to keep a tether to his thoughts. 

His voice is strained when he finally speaks, a quiet rasp that betrays his nerves. "I - uh - yeah. Sure." He clears his throat again, trying to steady himself. "Just take your time. There's no rush. I want you to feel comfortable."

You nod, but your gaze doesn’t leave him. It’s heavy, almost expectant, and Wonwoo feels it pressing down on him like the air in the room has thickened with each passing second.

His heart races, and he forces himself to look away from you, staring at the camera for a moment to regain some semblance of control. But when he finally glances back, there’s no denying it: you're not just in front of the camera. You're right there, your presence inescapable. The air crackles between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer despite the distance.

You slowly unbutton your shirt, each movement measured and deliberate. The soft rustle of fabric seems deafening in the silence. Wonwoo tries to focus on the camera - on the framing, the lighting - by the sight of you undoing the buttons is sending jolts through him, making it hard to concentrate.

"Wait, stop." He's struggling to get out more than a few words, but he realises he has to explain himself as your head whips around, alarmed. "That shot - if you push the shoulder down a little -"

"I'm not sure I quite get it," your voice is a quiet invitation. He doesn't know if its a test, or something far more dangerous than that. 

He moves slowly, not wanting to startle you. And, if he's being honest, not sure that he can handle being any closer. But he's started now, and he can't not go through with it just because he's nervous about seeing skin. Focusing on his task, Wonwoo's hands gingerly pull the loose fabric of your shirt, draping it down the side of your upper arm, the fabric slipping with an almost unbearable grace, revealing the curve of your shoulder, the soft line of your skin. Wonwoo feels his pulse spike, his breath coming in shallow bursts as his fingers brush against the bare skin of your arm. It’s delicate, unintentional contact, but it feels like an electric shock, jarring and intimate all at once.

You hold your breath, your gaze fixed on his hands, your body still. 

“Just like that,” he says, his voice quiet, as though speaking louder might shatter this delicate balance between you. “Now, tilt your head just a little to the left. Keep your eyes soft... like you're looking into something just out of reach.”

Your eyes flicker, a knowing glint passing through them. “Like I’m seeing something I shouldn’t?”

Wonwoo’s stomach tightens, a shiver creeping down his spine at the way you put it. His hands hover over the camera, but for a moment, he forgets the frame, forgets everything except the weight of the moment.

"Exactly," he breathes, almost afraid to admit it aloud, but the words escape him. He’s standing so close now, every muscle in his body taut, straining against the pull of something he doesn't know how to define.

You do as he asks, your eyes softening, lips parting ever so slightly, as if you’re leaning into the invitation.

The camera shakes in his hands, and for a second, he worries that you’ll notice the tremor, that you'll see how much this is affecting him. But you don’t. Your focus is unwavering.

“Can you… can you move your hand to your collarbone?” he murmurs, barely trusting himself to speak the request aloud. “Just… trace it, like it’s the only thing you’re focused on.”

You nod, and there’s an eerie stillness in the air as your fingers drift up to the curve of your neck. Wonwoo feels like he’s drowning, like every movement you make pulls him deeper into this quiet, dangerous place between photographer and subject, between the lens and the reality unfolding just beyond it.

Each click of the shutter feels like a bullet leaving a gun.

Your fingers are back on the buttons before he can realise that the moment has moved on, and you let the shirt fall, the fabric slipping to the floor with a soft whisper. He can’t breathe for a moment.

You stand before him, unguarded, vulnerable, and yet there’s something about the way you hold yourself—so composed, so intentional—that makes him swallow back every word that he tries to form.

Your eyes lock onto his again, and it’s like time stops. “How’s the lighting?” Your voice is steady, calm, but the tension in it is undeniable.

Wonwoo’s throat is dry as he forces himself to focus. "The light... it's perfect." He clears his throat, his voice tight. "You look perfect. Just... just keep moving, slowly. Let the camera catch it all."

You nod, your lips curling into that familiar smile that has him reeling.

Wonwoo’s pulse quickens, but he doesn’t dare look away. He’s caught in the gravity of your gaze, drawn into the quiet intensity of the moment. He raises the camera, his fingers trembling just slightly as he adjusts the lens. The click of the shutter still sounds harsh, but it doesn’t break the tension.

Wonwoo almost drops the camera when your fingers hook around the loops of your pants. 

You slide them off in fluid motion, far quicker than the shirt. The smile on your face is more playful now, taunting and teasing. "What were those poses again?" 

Wonwoo’s breath catches in his throat, his hands freezing just above the camera as the image of you in front of him—the subtle arch of your back, the way your skin catches the light—burns itself into his memory. He can’t look away, and it’s like everything in the room sharpens.

"Stop," he whispers, his voice shaking. "You’re—"

He cuts himself off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. How could he describe the storm he feels brewing inside of him? The way his pulse is beating in time with the shutter clicks. The way he’s watching you, but feels like he’s barely holding onto himself, like the space between him and you has closed to a point where it feels impossible to stay just the photographer.

“Stop?” you repeat, tilting your head, the playful glint in your eyes both a challenge and an invitation. "You want me to stop?"

"I—" He clears his throat, trying to force his words into something coherent. You take a step closer, and the words fail him. 

You stop a few inches away from him, your breath mingling with his, and for a split second, you both stand there, locked in a stare that feels like an eternity. Wonwoo's heart races, and he can hear the rush of blood in his ears, but the sound of your breath, shallow and steady, is louder than everything else.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper, and the way you say his name—so softly, so deliberately—has his chest tightening even more.

His heart stutters for a second, and before he can think about it, before he can second-guess himself, he lowers the camera, his hand almost involuntarily reaching for you.

“Are you sure?” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t say anything at first. Instead, your fingers brush against the fabric of his shirt, dancing between the creases. The world seems to spin a little.

“I’m sure,” you reply, your voice steady but low. “Are you?”

Wonwoo’s pulse thunders in his ears, and he thinks he's nodding his head, but he's not sure. He swears he can feel the heat radiating off of you in waves. The tension is almost unbearable now, and his hands are shaking so badly that he’s not sure if he should step back or close the space completely.

Before he can decide, you close the gap for him, your lips brushing against his in the gentlest of kisses. It’s soft at first, tentative—like you’re both waiting for the other to pull away—but when Wonwoo doesn’t, you deepen it just enough to make his head spin.

Everything—his thoughts, his control, his self-restraint—fractures.

He pulls you closer, his hand finding the curve of your back as he deepens the kiss. He can feel you shiver as his warm hands trace the exposed skin. He has to hold back a guttural moan at the feeling of your body pressed against his.

Your hands have found his hair, tangling your fingers through the strands and feeding off of the reactions, tugging a little every time he grumbles against your lips. A small gasp leaves your lips as he pulls away from your mouth, burying into your neck, which stretches prettily with each biting kiss he leaves. 

"Is this how all your photo shoots go?" Even with your head tilted back, voice breathy as his fingers grasp onto your waist, you still find time to tease him. A small whine leaves you as his lips abandon your skin.

"You'll believe me if I say no?" His throat is scratchy, his voice raw, and it comes out more as a question. 

You laugh. "Yes - I, yes, I believe you."

The silence feels unbearably tension, like both of you are trying to blindly navigate the other's feelings. Neither comfortable enough to take the next step forward.

"What did -"

"I thought -"

Your words stumble together as you search for the right way to break the tension. Wonwoo stops, not pressing you to continue, but his grip tightens on your waist slightly, a silent question hanging in the air. 

"I was just - I wasn't sure you'd want to do this, too." You finally say. You still have that teasing smile, but your voice is small, almost unsure. 

"I do," his voice is low, rough, and there's something tender there too. "I really do."

Your lips twitch upwards, a fleeting smile curving the corners of your mouth as you move closer again. "Then, what happens next?"

Wonwoo's head darts around, looking around the dim loft. There's nothing there, other than his equipment and a few chairs - nothing particularly helpful in this scenario. Although, he should admit, he wasn't expecting anything like this when he'd set it up.

"We could go somewhere else, if that's what you want to do?"

Your eyes follow his gaze, realising the dilemma.

"But I'm already half undressed." You bat your eyelashes innocently, and he knows you're fully aware of what you're doing to him. Yet, that doesn't prevent his trousers from feeling way too tight. 

"I-" his breath catches, his fingers digging into your side. "I guess we'll have to stay here then."

"I guess so," you grin, and he wants nothing more than to pull you back in. So, he does. It's messy, primal, a tangle of limbs as your hands sloppily undo his shirt and his look for anything and everything he can reach. He doesn't miss your noise of appreciation when his shirt falls to the floor. 

Soon, his hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling you up in one swift motion and carrying you until you hit the nearest wall. You're panting, your eyes wild and hair tangled as you grab at his neck, pulling his lips back to yours. 

It's not long before the rest of your clothes join the others on the floor. He feels a flutter of shyness as you take him in, eyes roaming across his body. But you're smiling, wide and joyful, the soft flesh of your thighs squeezing tighter on his hips. 

"Fuck, I always thought you were hot, but I can't believe you were hiding this underneath those baggy sweaters."

Wonwoo can feel the blush running up his neck like a schoolboy being complimented for the first time. His heart is hammering in his chest, a warm rush spreading through him from head to toe as he tries to work out what his eyes should be focusing on.

"I wasn’t expecting any of this. You... you’re making me nervous," he admits with a shy laugh, his hands feeling clammy against your skin. "I mean, I'm sure I'm not the first person to say you're beautiful, but I think you're so much more than what they see."

Your smile softens for a moment, and you reach forward, fingers grazing lightly over his arm, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. "I'd like you to know all of me."

The words are soft, tender, and you can probably hear his heart fluttering. And, all at the same time, the implication of them is making more than his heart flutter. 

"You're sure?" His body presses against yours even more, pushing your back further into the wall behind you. 

"Please," you nod breathily, and that's all he needs. "I want you."

His hips grind against you, head swirling at the feeling as your arms wrap around his neck for stability. "I don't have-" he manages to choke out. 

"It's fine, I'm on the pill. Just - just fuck me, please?"

His head buries into your shoulder, body twitching at your words. Pushing inside of you, the pleasure is immediate. Your hips are moving back onto him as far as you can against the wall, and his hands are firmly clenched around the flesh of your ass, holding you up in an iron grip. And you sound so good, and - more than that, you feel so good, so unbelievably good, that he's gasping out your name between thrusts.

Nonsensical words are babbling out of your mouth too; hot, dirty words of praise that only spur him on further. Your nails dig into his back, and then his hair, and then back again, like you can't pick which part of him you want to touch more. 

And fuck, you're so beautiful. Like a goddess in the low lighting of the room - but he's too scared to tell you that just yet. Soft and hard and warm against him, surrounding him, engulfing him. 

It's not long before he can feel you clenching around him, one hand clinging onto his shoulders and the other snaking between your legs. The muscles of his arms are burning slightly, but it feels too good to stop now. You're dragging him with you, panting moans with each pulse. You press your lips against his one more time, and it's all it takes to push you both over the edge.

After a few moments, he lifts his head from your shoulder and looks at you, a tender smile on his face. His lips press against yours gently, sighing with soft pants.

"Shit," You breathe, a small giggle bubbling out of you. The sound is so sweet it knocks any remaining wind out of him. 

Wonwoo chuckles, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your jaw as he holds you in place.

Your smile is warm and teasing, and you press your lips to his for a second longer. "If I had the camera, I'd capture that look forever."

[melinoelliones]

Jax NSFW Alphabet

I don't even know how I managed to forget to do his NSFW Alphabet... So anyways here it isss

Jax - Heat Part 2 is coming btw!!! It's almost done. Click here to read Jax Heat Part 1 if you haven't read already!

What I think he would do may not align with what YOU think he would do! I have tried to make this mostly gender neutral but I fear I slipped a bit of x Fem Reader is there. Also sorry for the ugly banner, his png's aren't great lmao.

My writing skills have fallen off since I've been off for like what 2 months, but I am working on getting better!!

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

Jax is the type to talk over what you guys just did in bed, maybe mock you a bit but it always follows up with him smothering you in kisses and ass grabs. His large grin shows as he pulls you closer knowing you get embarrassed when he mocks you. 

“?!&% ?!&% ?!&%, feels so good” he moans out, mocking your previous words as you hide your head into his chest in hopes that you’ll disappear from this world. “I’m just kidding babe, you’re so hot when you do it. Lets me know i’m doing it right yanno” he jested, slapping his hand against your ass before pulling you tighter into his chest.

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

Jax likes his hands the most. Them in contrast to your body drives him crazy, and seeing his fingers in you is insane.

His favourite part of you would be your stomach or thighs for sure. He’s a thighs guy, what can I say. When you and the guys are hanging out, he is 100% sitting with his head on your thighs or just between your legs like its nothing.

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

Anywhere and everywhere. He loves to cover you in it, your perfect body being defiled by his cum is everything to him. Only he gets to do that to you, you’re his property and he can do whatever he wants with it.

He also just likes filling you with it, after rounds and rounds he gets to watch it slowly try and seep out of your precious holes.

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

He enjoys watching you get off, he could sit and watch like it was a tv show. Bonus points if he can guide you through it, making you edge yourself until you ignore his commands and he has to come over and punish you.

His oral fixation comes in waves, having your tits in his mouth is like heaven. He will never tell a single soul that, even you, but we all know it. 

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

A part of me wants to say that in the outside world he’s a raging virgin, now he’s in the circus so he can just go crazy.

But another part of me wants to say he’s super experienced, but he’s never been with someone like you. Not even in a stereotypical way, but he’s just not usually into you as a type.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Mutual masterbation where ya’ll are side by side. From time to time he’ll just slide his free hand over to your body and play with it too.

Doggy but he’s so unserious with it. He’ll put his foot up by your head to make sure to get as deep as he can into you.

Cowgirl/riding and reverse cowgirl for sure. His hands are so large that they can carry your body with ease, so being in these positions means when he wants me he can just place them above your hips and slam you into him. Then he gets to watch your stomach bulge out with each stroke and your face contort.

“?!&%, well would you look at that” Jax hissed, skimming his fingertips across your stretched skin as he took in the sight of the bulge protruding from your stomach. 

Jax let out a small chuckle before grabbing your hand and placing it over the hump, “you feel that doll? You feel how full you are hmm?”. Your glossy eyes glanced into his as he began to thrust into you, your palm rising and falling with each one.

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

He can be humorous but most times I don’t even think it’s intentional.

Like if he was to say “woahhh, easy there tiger. If you go that fast you’ll cum before me, and you know that's not allowed”. I’d probably laugh but he’s dead serious.

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

Canonically… probably none.

To ME, he wouldn’t care to keep himself trimmed up nice. It’s a bit crazy down there but I don’t care.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be both super romantic and just zoned in.

“?!&% babe keep going, my cock feels so good in that pretty throat of yours”

“Oh you poor thing, are you tired? But I’m not finished with you yet, so looks like we have a little bit longer to go”

“You’re mine, my personal fuck toy remember? So come over here, let me use your body for a bit”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Why would he get off himself when he has you? You can fulfill every need and more at any given time.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dacryphilia for sure, he mocks you for crying but he want more always

“Are you crying?” he cooed, grinning as he looked down at your sweet face, your tears mixing with your saliva at the corners of your lips.

“Awww you poor thing, bit off more than you can chew did we? Better finish off what you started, you’re doing so well, I’ll make sure to paint that pretty little throat of yours white” Jax growled, caressing your damp lower face with his hand and sliding his cock deeper down your throat, your gargles slowly inching him closer and closer to ecstasy. That and the fact he could see you rubbing your thighs together for your own enjoyment.

Overstimulation and edging for sure, he’s the ultimate tease. There are days he will make you edge yourself over and over again until you can’t any longer, just to then take over and overstimulate you till your body is a mess.

Free use and CNC 100% You guys have nothing but spare time, so having you at his disposal at all times is perfect. He doesn’t care the location, who’s around or who could come around. If he wants it, he’ll have it, and everyone else will have to deal with it.

“B~But Gangle is looking for us J~Jax”, “So? Why the hell do I care? That crybaby won’t say a word regardless. I want to fill you up right here and now n no one will stop me from doing so” he vowed, unbuckling his overalls with one hand and leaning you over the railing with the other.

L = Location (favourite places to do they do)

Anywhere, he legit does not care where. He does enjoy public places though as he enjoys watching your nervous face when you hear the others roaming around, and he gets to feel you clench around him as they get closer due to fear.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You being a brat, he likes to fuck the brat out of you. 

Also just when you’re super needy, your body listens well when it wants something.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Toys on himself, he really isn’t into it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Is it bad if I say his preference is receiving? Not saying he doesn’t give, but he prefers to get head.

“Ugh fine, stop with the frowning already and come over here before I change my mind” Jax huffed, rolling his eyes as he gestured for you to go to him. Sometimes he would act as if he didn’t want it, but he thoroughly enjoyed having you on his face, your thighs encasing his face as he got to play with you. 

“Remember dollface, I’m the one in control here, so I’ll have you here until all you can focus on is my tongue against you”

He enjoys head, so much so that he just has to fuck you after every time.

“?!&% you did so good, so ?!&%ing good baby” he breathlessly huffed, tangling a large portion of your hair into his hand and sliding you off of his dripping cock, a mixture of spit and cum still connecting you to it as he yanked you up. 

Before you could even really comprehend what was going on, your lips met his, resulting in the neediest of kisses. You hadn’t even had a chance to take a breath before, both of your hands now roughly exploring eachothers bodies, you both wanted nothing more than to be one.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Both. Sometimes he just needs to be balls deep in you, crashing into you with no remorse. Other times he likes to take it slow and and make sure you feel every touch.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Daily. Not much else to do is there.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

All the time, again, y'all have endless time so why not?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go like 4-5 rounds back to back, others just 2 but a load of oral in between.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

On you he loves them, especially the vibes. Making you have one on you while you guys are with the others is like entertainment for him. Having to watch you squirm in silence while the others stare, oblivious as to why you're so antsy. 

“Are you okay? You’re acting like Pomni right now?”, “They’re fineeee, aren’t you? Go on, tell them” Jax jested, turning up the vibe as you went to open your mouth, knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to form a straight sentence with it that high.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

To the point that it could drive one insane.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t too loud but he likes to dirty talk, he knows it turns you on.

“Does my cock feel that good? You’re drooling”

“Go on, cum on this cock. Make sure everyone knows it’s yours”

“You think Caine can see us right now hmm? Lets put on one hell of a show for him, I know he probably has one hell of a filthy mind. If he didn’t, wouldn’t he have stopped up by now?”

“You’re so ?!&%ing lucky I can’t breed you in this place”

“Do you want the others to hear you? Because you aren’t too good at holding your tongue”

“I’m gonna fill you up nice and good, only I can violate this, it’s mine”

“Stop covering your mouth, I need to hear how well I fuck you”

W = Wild card (a random dirty headcanon for the character)

He wants to watch you fuck someone else, just so he can see how pathetic they are at making you feel good. Only he can make you cum, only he knew your sweet spots and what you liked. You’re practically molded to him, you are his and no one will compare, but he wants to watch someone try.

Jax watched as one of the NPC’s he had snuck in frantically fucking you, your fake moans only making him sigh heavily in the chair at the end of the bed. He was almost getting annoyed at the fact that this NPC was barely even trying, he was just using your body at this point. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure you actually cum” Jax reassured, caressing your cheek before making his way to your legs, “A* for effort but you’re done” he scowled, shoving the NPC aside before he could even consider defiling your body any further.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Its girthy and long. It took you a long time to get use to, but now nothing else can satisfy you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It can go from wanting it everyday to just tired of it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It can be pretty instant after the aftercare, but even while asleep his body still pulls you into him for security.

[nilla03]

“𝐼 𝐶𝐴𝑀𝐸 𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸 𝑇𝑂 𝐺𝐸𝑇 𝐴𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑀 𝑌𝑂𝑈．“

𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈🎀🪽

➾𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒ℎ𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀,𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲

You don't understand why you're so attracted to Logan. Maybe it was how closed off he was and you feel the need to crack through his shell but everything he did or said made you question your mental stability. You were both teachers at Mutant High, trying to help children with their gifts, but all you could think about was him. 

You needed time away from your classroom and him being around wherever you turned was exhausting. "Y/N?" Your best friend answered your call. "Are you okay? I haven't heard from you in forever." 

You sighed. "Yes I'm more than okay, I've been so caught up in all this teaching stuff that I haven't had time to answer the phone… I was wondering if we could go out tonight and maybe get some drinks?" 

You heard her shuffle around getting her stuff put together, "Of course I do!? Text me the place and I'll meet you there" You smiled "There's this bar by the school, I'll get ready and send you the address." You both say your goodbyes while you start to get ready for the night.

"Getting ready for a night out feels so much better when you don't have to follow a dress code," you said to yourself. 

You collected all your belongings and walked down to the entryway before you were stopped by a curious voice.  "Where are you going?" Storm asked with a smug tone. You giggled, "I'm going out, I just need a little break," you smiled at her. "Don't be out too late, you still have a job to do." You wave her goodbye and make your way to your outing of the night. 

You met your best friend in front of the bar, and her face changed into a big smile "Y/N!" She yelled out as she ran up to you, pulling you into a hug. You smile at her. "You act like I've been gone for a year," you laugh. "Darlin' it's felt like a year" 

You guys both walk into the bar. It's run down but in a rustic way. "It's kinda cute in here," your friend says, you both take a seat in the bar area. After being seated, you guys talk and order your drinks.  

"So, tell me about everything since you've been away." You tell her everything, from bad students to annoying acquaintances, and then you bring up Logan. 

"I'm so mesmerized by him that I can't even focus on my job F/N, it makes me so angry, he's like an egg that I cannot crack but at the same time, he's everything that I want." 

Your friend takes a sip out of her martini glass. "I completely get it. That man is 300 pounds of pure muscle and sexiness." You move your nail around the top of your glass ."It isn't even his looks, it's his attitude and his personality. Don't even get me started on his hair." Your friend gives you a look as you continue to rant. "He's so infuriating as well, he has to know how I look at him at least but no, he ignores me constantly." 

You could sense someone taking a seat by you but you ignore it. "Logan is just so sexy too, I don't even understand it" You could feel the liquor kicking in as you said it.

"Now I'm sexy? I thought I was infuriating." You gasp as you turn face-to-face with Logan himself. "I'm gonna give you guys a second." Your friend gets up and leaves the bar table. "Why do you have to be everywhere I go? I came here to get away from you."

You sigh at him. You couldn't help but look from his chest up to the cigar in his mouth. 

"Maybe you just can't help being around me," He said with a shit-eating grin on his face. You scoff at him and shake your head as you watch him put his drink down. "That attitude is going to get you into trouble so I suggest you put it away, doll." 

"I'm going to the bathroom." You quickly get up and make your way to the bathroom to get some space again...

You stand in front of the restroom mirror, hands against the counter, keeping yourself steady, when you hear someone walk in.

"Someone is in here!?" You yelled out but then you heard a rough voice respond, "I'm aware." The smell of pinewood and cigar smoke fills your sense of smell as he walks up close to you, caging you in, his arms on each side of you. "Why couldn't you just tell me how you felt, I don't bite, doll." You looked up at him "Because it would never work, we don't work Logan." He pushes the hair out of your face and looks down at your lips.

"How do you know if we don't try." He says while pulling you by the nape of your neck into a rushed kiss. You both are breathing heavily, he pulls himself out of the kiss eyeing your plump lips, and looking back at you, his eyes were so intimidating. He grabs your hips and spins you around, your ass is pressed up against him letting you feel his god-given gift. His hands slip under your dress and eagerly slip off your panties. You watch him take off his belt in awe.

He's so big.. he bites his lip while he strokes himself before he slides into you. You gasp at how it feels, it feels so good. His dick is heavy as he rocks into you, the rough pace letting you feel how bad he wants you, letting you feel his every need. The deep, irregular pumping of his dick leaves your mouth agape, moaning out his name like it's the only thing you can remember. He watches both of you in the mirror, watching himself go in and out of you. "God you're so fucking tight."

Your hand pulls at his hair as you feel his teeth graze your neck, you gasp and push your face into the crook of his neck. The choked-out groans he let out had you so close you could feel the pleasure on the tip of your toes.

"Logan, I'm getting close" you sigh. "Hold on baby, I'm almost there." He growls out into your ear, his hips snapping into yours.  His thrusts get sloppy as you feel him getting so desperate for a release "Look at the mirror while I make you finish all over me, doll,” he says, pulling your hair in the direction of the mirror. You both cum with each other, he chuckles as he places kisses against your neck. "Give us a chance Y/N, because even if you didn't know it, I needed you for so long that it hurts." 

You went to reply as you heard a knock at the door "Y/N are you good!? I have to go!" You scramble to find your panties you catch Logan putting them in his pocket while putting his cigar back into his mouth. “Keeping these”