#jack mulhern gif

[carnevol]

[deadpoets]

DON HUME'S OUTFITS in The Boys in the Boats (2023)

[reyenii]

a few moments later, ulbrickson told a reporter that his boys were "the finest i ever saw seated in a shell. and i’ve seen some corking boatloads"

[staud]

Seats 1 - 8 – The Boys in the Boat (2023)

[kcsplace]

I know this is actually Callum and Jack arguing and not Don and Joe (for which Callum takes responsibility) but I love that they kept it in. Making it a character moment instead of an actor blip that should be cut, actually lets Don lose his temper, for the audience to be shown what it would take for Don to lose it, to show that much emotional response, that even Don, stoic, reserved, calm, non-responsive Don can be pushed to an extreme, that he does want this as much as the rest, that it means as much to him even if he doesn't talk about it, and that the boat being out of sync is effecting him too.

Just such a great editing decision

And also how lost, and then amused, and then trying to be calm Bruce Herbelin-Earle is entertains me endlessly. A real journey he takes us on in 0.3 seconds! Plus, y'know, Don swearing and getting angry is hot as fuck, I'm not proud

[luckyricochet]

In which Al Ulbrickson is a whole mood

THE BOYS IN THE BOAT (2023)

[tetragonia]

Don Hume in The Boys in The Boat (2023), starting to feel unwell during the competition.

[okieedokes]

you can stay with me | don hume x f!reader

summary: don let’s you stay in his room after the party!

part 2 is out! read it : here

word count: 1,141

warnings: none just fluff

Don Hume bows his head shyly to the applause of the crowd below him. It seems that everyone in the auditorium who hadn’t left with their respective sweethearts were joined in celebration of the young athlete.

He steps off the stage to join the group of men who have quickly become his closest friends as they all take turns shaking his shoulders and kissing his head in pride. Becoming flustered by all the attention, Don excuses himself to the bar, hoping another drink will settle his nerves.

Distracted by all the commotion, Don doesn’t notice the girl walking towards him until she crashes into his frame. The drink in her hand splatters the pair, soaking his white button-down and the front of her soft pink dress.

Any feelings or confidence Don had felt prior had been instantly replaced by embarrassment as he steadied the young girl with a hand on her waist.

“I’m so sorry! I’m the biggest clutz!” You exclaim whilst shaking your hands to remove any lingering drops of brown liquid.

Don takes this opportunity to take in the young woman who stood before him. A once pale pink dress perfectly hugs your frame, complimenting the soft curls in your hair and the scarlet tinge of your lips. As your face reddens with embarrassment, Don realises he had been staring in admiration whilst you continue to spew apologies.

“No, it’s okay. It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking.” He reassures, withdrawing his hand in the process.

“I’m sorry. I really should get going before I trip and accidentally kill someone!” You joke, but it fails to fool Don as he catches the tears brewing in your eyes.

“You were great!” You add before running towards the exit as the tears threaten to spill.

Don turns to check that any of his fellow teammates are not watching him, knowing it would be the main topic of conversation at training the next day if they saw him run after a girl.

Once satisfied they were all distracted, he took off in your direction.

Upon leaving the auditorium, the darkness made it difficult to see anything, let alone your slight stature, until he heard faint sobs around the corner of the building. Sure enough, the cries led him straight to you, your arms wrapped around your body that shakes with each sob.

Don raises a gentle hand to your shoulder, careful not to frighten you.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks softly.

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I was just worried about getting caught covered in booze when I returned to the dorms… I’m on a scholarship and need a clean slate to keep it.” You utter between sobs, and Don realises that you both may have more in common than he had once thought.

“I understand; I’m only here because of the team…I’m always worried I’m going to screw it all up.” He confesses, shoving his hands into his pockets nervously.

“Oh, come on, Hume, everyone knows you’re the best stroke Washington’s had in years!” You chuckle; your sweet smile doesn’t go unnoticed by Don.

“Hey, I have clean clothes back at my dorm. If you want to borrow a jacket, or something before you head home?” He doesn’t know why he suggested this, but he’ll do anything not to say goodbye just yet.

“Don’t you want to stay and celebrate?” You sniffle.

“I was about to leave anyways; I got to practice early tomorrow.” Don lies and, without hesitation takes the girl's hand in his as he guides her toward his dormitory.

Upon reaching the dorm, Dons realises his guest may not be impressed by his bare bedroom. However, when he unlocks the door, you enter without hesitation, making yourself comfortable on the edge of his twin bed, feet dangling below.

“So, do you like rowing?” You pipe up as he searches his cupboard for a coat with minimal holes, settling on a fleece bomber jacket.

“Well, I’m getting a job out of it and a room, so yeah.” He mutters, closing the cupboard door behind him.

“I think it’s more than that; I’ve seen how you row.” You tease, a sly smile playing on your lips.

“You’ve been watching me?” Don questions, struggling to believe a girl as beautiful as yourself would ever take notice of him.

“Hard not to.” You admit, smiling softly.

Don notices the goosebumps on your arms and places the jacket around your shoulders. With his tall stature the garment almost swallows you up, but you wrap yourself in it nonetheless.

“I suppose I should be getting home.” You announce after a minute of silence.

“I’ll walk you back.” Don insists, wanting to savour any time left with you.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t; if my hall director sees you walking me home this late, she’ll get the wrong idea.” The girl giggles as Dons face glows bright.

“You can’t walk back alone. It’s nearly midnight.” Don objects, taking your hand in his as if he was pleading. Although he had only known you briefly, the thought of anything bad happening to you made his stomach churn.

“You can stay with me-“ He adds before fully acknowledging the inappropriateness of his offer. To his surprise, your face doesn’t appear disgusted, and instead, you flash your sweet smile.

“What about your bunkmate?” You giggle.

“Oh… I have a feeling he’s not coming back tonight.” Don mutters, glancing over at Shorty’s empty cot.

“Well, if that’s what you want…” You trail off before Don interjects.

“It is,” He assures, Bobby’s encouragement from earlier replays in his head as he bows down to meet your gaze.

You can’t help but lift your hand to brush the loose strands of hair that frame his face back. Don takes this gesture as permission to kiss you.

You intertwine your bodies together as you lower yourselves onto the mattress. You’re unsure whether it’s the liquor or the feeling of Don's strong hands on your body that causes your head to spin as you hesitantly pull away.

“Are you okay?” Don asks, his brow furrowed in concern that he had done something wrong.

“Yeah, my head is sore, probably from all the drinking.” You reply, and he places a calloused hand on your forehead.

“Hmm, you should probably get some sleep,” Don murmurs as he rolls onto his back, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. You tuck your knees up, resting them against his side as he strokes your hair gently.

“Good night, Don…” You’re voice trails off as you fall asleep feeling the safest you’ve been since leaving your childhood home months ago.

Don, who had never been much of a talker, places a soft kiss on your forehead before dozing off himself.

[solo-pitstop-vibes]

Rowing Pair | Don Hume

Don Hume x Original Character

Hiya! This is my first story in quite a while, so I hope you enjoy it. Part two coming soon!

Part two here!

......

One of Washington's rowing assistants takes a liking to Don Hume, and he takes a liking to her.

......

Allie is late. She is normally 10 minutes early to her student job in the library, and now she only has a few minutes to spare and make it all the way across campus. Her heels clicked rapidly across the concrete, carrying her as fast as she could go. She wouldn’t resort to running… yet. Her mother would scold her for it being unladylike. However, this job is important. It paid her tuition at Washington State, and it allowed her to have an opportunity that she couldn’t normally afford. This, and the nursing assistant position with the rowing team.

Looking down at her watch, she read eight fifty-eight, as she climbed the steps into the library. Breathing a sigh of relief, Allie slowed her pace as she made her way behind the service desk.

“Morning Margie!”

Margie responds to the younger girl, “Everything okay this morning? You’re stepping a little hot.”

Allie places her things down in her cubby underneath the desk and stood to face the dark-haired girl. “Just missed the first bus this morning, knocked me off my routine. That’s all,” she sighs. Satisfied with her answer, the older girl nods and instructs Allie on her tasks for the morning.

After gathering what she needs, Allie sets off with her cart of returns and makes her way to the tall shelves to start her reorganization. Working quietly to herself, she hums softly as she works to place books back in their rightful place. She makes her way through several stacks when she makes her way to one of the last shelves in the row. As she rounds the corner, she finds a tall, broad, dark-haired student browsing the shelves, looking very clueless. Glancing at the small paper in his hand, his frown grows deeper.

“Do you need any help?”

The man’s head snaps to Allie, his eyes wide in shock, but he doesn’t speak. His hand raised, pointing inward at his chest as if to say me?

Allie giggles softly. Taking a few steps closer, she motions to the small paper in his hand, “I can help if you’d like.”

He nods quickly, gingerly handing over the paper to the smaller girl. Quickly reading the information, she determines he is on the wrong aisle. She motions for him to follow her, and she leads him to the previous aisle, walking right to the correct spot. Plucking the book from its spot on the shelf, she hands it and the library card to the young man.

He clears his throat, taking the book from her hands, “Thank you.”

“Of course. My name is Allie if you need anything else.”

“I’m Don,” the boy cracks a soft, crooked smile. Allie mirrors his smile,

“Nice to meet you, Don. I’ll be around if you need help again.”

With a small smile and a wave, Allie steps away, heading back to her cart of books. Leaving Don in between the shelves, thinking about how Allie had to be the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

…

Being an assistant for the rowing team had a few perks, one of which was a brand-new Washington State sweater, which Allie smooths down over her blouse as she exits Coach Ulbrickson’s office. Now wearing a pair of pants and sneakers, and her hair is held back by a thick headband to battle the wind coming off the water. This was not her first time at the row house, having spent the last few months with the varsity team. She was not new to rowing either.

Allie thanks Coach Bolles as he hands her a clipboard and a pencil. Her job is to help evaluate the health and athleticism of the young men trying out for the JV team. She would evaluate both on land and in Old Nero the training boat, to make sure she collected an accurate assessment. Stepping in line beside Coach Bolles and Coach Ulbrickson, she looks out at the sea of young men waiting patiently. There’s a short spill from Ulbrickson before the activities for today are called out.

“You’ll be divided into groups and rotate through training stations. As you work through these stations, we will be evaluating your performance, while Miss Allie here evaluates your health and technique.” Coach Bolles’s strong voice carries easily through the airy boathouse. “When you hear your number called, follow the coach.”

As the groups are called, Allie glances down at the names on her clipboard. Only one stands out.

Hume, Don #22

She couldn’t hide the small smile that crept to her face, as she quickly scanned the crowd looking for Don. Ever since their meeting in the library earlier that day, Allie could not stop thinking about him. Finally, she finds him in the crowd. The same frown from this morning is painted on his face.

Everyone scattered as soon as the groups were called, moving swiftly around the boathouse, and Allie lost sight of Don. Time to get to work, she thought. For the first half of training today Allie would be in the boathouse, observing the groups doing exercises. Walking slowly through the groups of young men, Allie takes notes on as many as she can as they do sit-ups, push-ups, and jacks. It’s a strong group, but there are far too many of them for the 8-man crew. Over the next few days, there would be a few that set themselves out among the rest. After several rotations, it was time for another group to take Old Nero out. Making her way to the boat dock, Coach Bolles and Coach Ulbrickson are waiting for the next group to settle in their seats. Allie notices Don towards the middle, lacing his feet on the stretchers. Now she had the chance to see him row. One of the other assistants helps her onto the front perch of the boat.

Looking up, she scans the rows taking a mental note of some of the familiar numbers as the boat is slowly taken out. Coach Bolles gives some quick instructions to those who had never crewed, and they set off down the water. After a few minutes of practice, Tom started laying into the young men, calling out,

“There’s four parts to a stroke, gentleman, not three, okay? Catch, drive, finish, and recovery!”

Allie was furiously jotting down notes about each rower, just glancing up when she needed to.

“You can’t skip any of ‘em, and you know why we’re not going in a straight line? ‘Cause number 22 here is the only one that’s listening to me!”

Allie’s head shoots up at Tom’s comment, her eyes quickly finding Don in the row of young men on the left. His head was straightforward, eyebrows creased in concentration. Coach Boles is right, his form was spot on, and he is keeping a perfect pace. She makes the note beside his name and number, a small smile sneaking its way onto her face.

…

Two weeks had passed since the first day of training camp, and this afternoon was one last gathering to announce the team. Yesterday, Allie turned in her final evaluations to the coaches, sharing her top 15. Of course, Don was included. All due to his ability, along with Rantz, Morris, and several others who had stood out. Allie had a feeling Bolles and Ulbrickson approved of her choices, but in the end, they had the power to choose who they wanted.

Allie and Don had not spoken in the last two weeks, and other than a few blushed glances at training, they had not seen each other outside of rowing. It had been hard to keep her little crush under wraps, but she had done well. Thankfully no one had caught her staring on the days they took the sculls out, she just couldn’t help it. Don propelled himself over the water with amazing precision and coordination, and he looked damn good doing it.

This morning’s scull practice with the varsity team was the opposite, a complete snooze. It made Allie even more anxious to see the new crew besides the varsity one. Thankfully, her day would be preoccupied before this afternoon’s announcement, keeping her nerves at bay. Between classes, her library job, and the rowing team, she barely had time to breathe, but she liked keeping busy. The library is where she found herself after crew practice this morning.

Humming lightly to herself, Allie busies herself with some homework. Margie was tasked with putting the returned books back today, leaving Allie behind the front desk. Immersed in her notebook for some time, she doesn’t look up until she hears someone softly clear their throat. Her head snapped up, a smile blossoming on her face when she saw Don in front of her.

“Hi, Don! What can I help you with today?”

A large hand slides his book across the desk, “I need to re-check this out. Not quite done with it yet.” The boy shrugs. Allie nods, flipping open the cover and stamping the new due date in its designated spot. Sliding his book back across the counter, she looks to him again,

“Are you anxious about the crew announcement today?”

Don gives several little, small nods in quick succession. “Very. There’s a lot of guys going for it,” he breathes out. Allie props her head in one hand,

“Well, Don, I don’t think you should be too nervous. You’re outperforming almost everyone, and you’ve got a very good chance. I’ve not seen someone row like you in a long time, you’ve got great rhythm on the water.”

A blush flares up Don’s neck, a shy smile following, “Thank you, Allie. I’ll, uh, see you this afternoon, then?”

“I’ll be there,” Allie’s shy smile mirrored Don’s. He gives her a small wave before turning and making his way out of the library.

…

“Gentlemen, I want to thank you all for comin’ out and giving your best effort. Every single one of you left standing has performed admirably. Unfortunately, only a few of you can be chosen to continue,” Ulbrickson speaks to all the anxious young men standing in the boathouse. His tone is soft but carries easily through the quiet building. “Coach Bolles,” Al hands the attention over to Tom. Tom held up his notebook and started reading the names off, in no particular order,

“Hume, Hunt, McMillin, Day, Morris, White, Adam, Rantz. Coy, you’re the reserve.”

A flash from a camera accompanied each name, capturing the group. A few reporters are scrambling to write all the names down. Allie is tickled, her predictions were spot on. The boys who made the team gather amongst the group, congratulating each other as the other young men, who didn’t make the team, filter out of the boathouse.

Allie stays in her spot on the wooden steps, waiting for the boys to disperse. Catching Don’s gaze, she gives him a toothy grin and a cheeky wink, as if to say I told you so. A sheepish smile finds its way to Don’s face, but only for a split second before he’s whisked away with the group to take a group picture. Al and Tom follow along with the boys for the picture, but Allie stays put. Tom already knows what she’s thinking from their few short months of working together, calling out over his shoulder, “Come on, Allie! You’re a part of the team too!”

“Oh! Coming!” Allie exclaims, scrambling down the steps to catch up with everyone. Tom knew Allie was struggling to see herself as an asset to the team, that’s why she was included in the evaluations for the crew decisions. Even as a first-year nurse, she already knew things that senior nursing students were still learning, and Al and Tom learned that early on. When they posted the assistant position, no one applied except Allie. She applied with extreme enthusiasm, despite being fairly shy when sharing her knowledge. She knew nursing almost as well as she knew rowing. Growing up with a father who rowed at Cal, he had taught her everything, and she had a keen eye for technique.

Catching up with the coaches, Allie maneuvers herself on the very end of the group beside the coaches. For the next few minutes, several photographs are taken, and they’re all released for the day. The boys head to the locker room to change, the coaches retreat to the office, and Allie gathers her things. Heading out to the dock where the crew launches from, she takes off her shoes and socks and rolls up her pant legs. Slipping her feet into the water, Allie pulls out a book and flips to where she left off. After a short time, soft footsteps hit the dock behind her.

“Mind if I join you?” Don’s soft voice rings out. Allie shakes her head, a soft smile tugging on her lips,

“I don’t mind at all.”

Don toes off his shoes and socks and rolls up his slacks like Allie had earlier. Sliding his feet into the water, he leans back on his hands. Allie closes her book and turns towards Don, mirroring his position to one side. Her voice is soft, almost timid,

“Congratulations on making the team, you deserve it. You’ve got a lot of talent.”

“Thank you, it’s a huge relief. Don’t have to worry about as much now with tuition and the part-time job and all that.”

Allie heart clenches, she knows that feeling too well. “I understand. Without the rowing team or the library job, I wouldn’t be able to attend. These last few years have been tough on everyone.”

Don clears his throat, “They have, but something tells me things are turning around for the better.”

Allie is already looking at Don when he glances over at her. She’s quick to look away, playing with the hem of her sweater, trying to fight the blush rising to her cheeks. The two fall into a peaceful silence, Allie returning to her book and Don flipping his open. The one she helped him find. Sitting for an hour or so, only a few soft words were spoken in between pages as the sun dipped in the sky.

Finally, Allie closed her book, slipping it into her bag, “Well, we’re losing reading light. Might be our cue.” Don nodded, and both slipped their shoes back on. Don makes it to his feet first. Reaching down to Allie, he offers his hand to help her up. Blushing furiously, Allie graciously takes his hand. Now standing, Don still towers over Allie’s short frame, their hands still linked together.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

The pair starts the trek back towards the dormitories, hands swaying softly as they walk. After a few beats, Don speaks up,

“What got you into rowing? From what I can tell, you seem to know a lot about it.”

“My father rowed at Cal and kept with it as a hobby afterward. He would take me out as a child and teach me everything he knew. He’s very happy I’m an assistant, even though it’s not at Cal,” Allie explains.

Don nods, “Do you think you’ll be able to see them at the Cal meet?”

Allie shrugs, “Hopefully. I haven’t written to them yet about attending, but I’m sure my father will at least come, if both my parents can’t. What about your family? Do you think they’ll come to a meet?”

“I don’t really have anyone anymore, I started taking care of myself a long time ago,” Don sighs, eyes drifting to his feet. Squeezing his hand gently, Allie reassures him,

“Well, you’ve got the crew now. They’re all you need, and they’ll always have your back.”

A shy smile creeps up on Don’s face, hesitating on his next words, “You’re right.”

No more is said until the pair step up to the doorstep of Allie’s dormitory. They stopped awkwardly, not sure of what to do or say next, and not really wanting their walk to end. Allie acts first, softly unlacing her fingers with Don’s and turning to him,

“Thank you for walking me back. I’ll see you in the morning at practice?”

“I’ll be there,” Don smiles, mimicking their conversation from earlier in the day. Allie giggles at his response, catching his joke.

Leaning up, Allie presses a quick kiss to his cheek, “Goodnight, Don.”

“Goodnight, Allie.”

...

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

hi I am the anon from the other day I was thinking about being in a established relationship w Don and he has a rough day a practise I don’t have your talent at writing lol so do what you please after that ahah

Perfect Form

Don Hume x fem reader

wc: 2,900

tbitb masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️ : smut, little plot, mdni, minors get out right now, penetration, fingering, cunnilingus, overstimulation, Don denying his own orgasm, aftercare

Enjoy this garbage!

…

Don’s skin glimmers with sweat. His hair is wet and slicked back from his shower not even twenty minutes ago. His pants leaning into his forearms that prop him up over you. His hips roll gently, and he slides in and out of you irritatingly slow. 

“Don.” You whisper, reaching up to touch his cheek. He’s burning, face heavily blushed from the bridge of his nose and down his neck and chest, “need you to go harder.”

His eyes blink open, glancing over you agitated features. They travel down your sternum and stomach and catch on the desperate thrust of your hips to meet him. Instead of helping you out, he places a mean hand on your hip bone and pushes you down, holding you still. His pace does not change, arousal soaking the juncture of your bodies and poisoning the air. You whine at him and try to push against him but the only measured strain it takes to keep you down is the new flex in his bicep. “Just lay down and take what I give you—” 

“C’mon, Hume!”

“Faster, Hume!”

Bobby wouldn’t let him catch a break. Poor Don had been catching crabs all morning, his oar piercing the water at the wrong angle or the wrong time. Something was always wrong with him. 

“Don’t give me that shit, Donny! You can do better!”

“What is that form!”

He just needed to breathe for a second, get his feet under him. He could Joe angrily huffing behind him. Shorty groaning in frustration behind Joe. All Don could feel were their annoyed glares and the sting of their complaints. He was in the stroke seat, he could not afford to be off his game ever and yet there he was, floundering like an idiot. 

“Get it together, you’re slowing this boat down!”

“Pull that again and you’re outta that seat!”

He did not get better by the end of practice and the crew would not get off his case. They complained on the way to the locker room, inside the locker room, in the showers, on their way out of the shell house. Coach Ulbrickson couldn’t even give him the time of day, telling him “If you don’t have yourself sorted out by tomorrow, we’re gonna have problems.” As if Don hadn’t been told off enough. He fumbled through his routine, tuned out to half of what everyone was saying. He tugged on his jacket and then his shoes, not even bothering to tie the laces. 

At this point the crew was more concerned than they were angry. Don was quieter than usual. His face was long and sullen. His gaze distant.

“What’s wrong with Don?”

“What should we do about Don?”

“How can we help Don?”

On and on and he just wanted everyone to shut up and let him fix whatever problem he’s got. He left the locker room, his hair still dripping with the shower water. He found his way to your room without even thinking about, subconsciously knowing what he needed. 

“F-fuck! You feel too good.” His head dips, hair tickling your collarbone. Your hands tangle in the dark strands of hair at the at the back of his head, holding him close. His bare body moves rhythmically. Slow and steady and restrained. He just wants to feel you, prove to himself that he as control. You’d offered to ride him, let him rest his tired body but he flat out refused and shut you up with a kiss. “Just—I just—” As he trails off his pace slows even more. 

“Don! Don, please!”

You can’t handle this leisure fucking, you want him faster and harder. The drag of his cock through your drenched walls is lugging you to a harrowing climax. You feel that knot forming in the pit of your stomach. The broiling heat that electrocutes your veins and shocks your muscles. 

“Faster, faster, faster…”

But Don just doesn’t listen. His thrusts remain soft, and his pace still relaxed. It frustrates you to no end and the need curls painfully inside of you. You arch off the bed, straining against the hand pinning you to the mattress. Your hands latch onto his shoulders. You actually gain some leverage against him which allows you to buck your hips into his oncoming thrust. The excess force creates the most delicious sensation as his thick cock is stuffed further into your soaked pussy. 

“Hn—ngh!” Don’s lashes flutter and his brows draw tight, “Ha’ahfuck! Don’t do that.” The way you squeeze him makes his head spin. Not to mention the fact you’re now grinding back. Don reckons that the only way to keep you still is to drop his full weight onto you. 

That glorious feeling of finally getting that mind-tickling pleasure dies away has Don’s sweaty skin presses fully to yours. Chest to chest, you’re effectively trapped between him and the mattress. “No-no. Why won’t you let me,” his lips cover yours in a callous kiss. The taste of that mint gum he likes to chew spreads over your tongue as his licks into your mouth. Your teeth clack, noses knocking as he rips away your precious breath. Your hands rake down his freckled arms. His own rough hands chase them down and fill in the gaps between your fingers and jam them into the pillows. Aside from your legs, folded by his hips, you’re completely stuck. 

“Will you jus’ listen to me.” His lips abandon yours and he resumes his cold-hearted pace. 

Tears well in your eyes, blurring his facial features and strangling your throat. It softens Don up a little as he watches you begin to cry because it’s how he’s been feeling all day. Finding some sympathy, Don grants you a deeper, harder thrust. He feels your stomach spasm at the newfound sensation. Your insides churn and you toss your head back and moan. Don tucks his knees under you, lifting your pelvis onto his thighs and forcing you to spread your legs wider. You squeeze his hands and sob as he hits deeper. His cock head drags over your g-spot, that rough little patch inside you that makes you twitch, with each of his calculated thrusts. Slick paints your folds, squelching as he pulls out to the tip and then shoves all his length and girth back in. You’re speechless and squirming and totally helpless to his whims. 

“Better?” He plants a kiss on your tear-streaked cheekbone and nuzzles. 

You choke and moan again, but you don’t try to fight him. Instead, your toe curls and you twist. Your orgasm is building faster than he wanted but he figures he can just give you more. He feels the stress of the day melting away as he watches you slip into the mind-numbing pleasure he gives you. He does that. He does it perfectly and controlled and with excellent form. 

“That’s right. You fucking love this, don’t you? Love me and my dick.” 

You wail and shudder as your insides uncoil. He delivers one more measured stroke and you cum hard. Your curl into him as your muscles tense. Clutching onto his hands so tight the knuckles crack. He can’t even move his hips once your legs lock together behind him. The waves of your orgasm wash over you and your walls wring out wetness around him. He wants to cum too, so bad, but he forces his way out of your hold and lets his climax fizzle out before it can shred him.

You whimper at the loss of contact. Your eyes peel open to see him not far away, hovering over you and breathing deeply. His thumb finds your clit and draws circles around the under stimulated bud. “Why...” You can’t catch your breath. “Why did you not—”

“Don’t want this to be over just yet.” 

Don scoops you up and moves you towards the top of the bed. Your back rests against the headboard, a pillow jammed under your hips. He props your legs open and plants a few kisses on your sternum and ribcage before trailing down your belly. Your spasming, dripping core is fully exposed to him and he ravishes you with a ravenous tongue. 

The velvety muscle curls and licks around your clit. It moves fluidly through your folds and prods your clenching entrance. “Hnn, Don!” You’re sensitive and lightheaded and now he’s giving you more than you bargained for. 

He mouths at your core for a while, making an even bigger mess of you. Your fingers tug at his hair and grab at his shoulders but he cannot be coaxed away. His lips, bruised from your rough kiss, suck on your clit and drive you insane. He braces his hands on your thighs and dips his tongue into your hole. You shiver and grind against his mouth as he tongue-fucks your sensitive core. Each brush of his tongue along your walls makes your toes curl and your chest heave. You didn’t get a chance to really recover from the last orgasm he gave you and he’s already steadily working you towards another. 

His thumbs find the petal-soft labia and spreads your folds. You bawl. His tongue flattens out and draws over your exposed parts. Don is relentless in this, his coarse tastebuds relishing the sweetness at oozes out of your cunt. He licks from your clit to your hole, circles the tip just around the inside, then licks back to your clit. Don suckles at the bundle until your thighs shake before he allows his teeth to graze the swell of nerves. Slick and saliva drip down his chin even as he slurps down what he can. 

You chant his name, “Don. Don. Don—” desperate and horny.

His hand leaves your clammy thigh, a rough fingertip pressing on the edge of your hole. His mouth works your clit, a faint slurping filling the breaths between your noises. One long finger pushes in. Then a second. Two rugged digits stroke your pussy and make you squirm. “Fuck Don, fucking—hell!” He can barely hear you cursing he’s so immersed. When you’re not looking at him buried between your thighs or studying the back of your eyelids, you’re watching his hips hump the comforter and sheets. 

Freckles like constellations dot his sinuous back. The pointed ridge of his spine divides the expanse of muscle. He’s tense. Still bothered by whatever has gotten into him today. He digs his fingers into that sore spongy g-spot and you writhe. Pleasure radiates from your overwhelmed core. The next high approaches fast as an avalanche. He works a third finger into you and it’s over. You go completely rigid as you cum again, gushing around his fingers. 

“That’s it, makin’ such a mess.” Don smirks, lips shining with cum.

You think he’s finished when his mouth leaves your cunt and lunges into a sloppy kiss, but then his fingers drag through your folds and pinch your clit. You jolt and keen, still fighting through the aftershocks of the last orgasm, and now he’s belligerently overstimulating that sensitive bud. You can’t get a word in with his tongue down your throat either, all you can do his clutch at him and whimper.

Once your lungs are exhausted of air, his mouth pops off your lips and he wedges himself between your thighs. “Stop trying to close your legs.” 

“Please—it’s so—f-fuck-ing—I can’t!”

“You can take it.”

His fingers rub fast, slicked up by your cum. He catches your clit between his digits and pinches again; it’s just enough pressure to border on pain. He bullies you against the headboard and steals your words away again. You try to kiss him back only to pant into his grin as you begin to wheeze. You don’t know what to do with your hands. Your blood is boiling, body spasming, your mind blank. Your third orgasm hits just as hard as the first two, making you cry out. He eases you down and pulls you back down the bed. He falls into place behind you and lifts one of your tired legs.

“Don, I can’t.”

“Give me one more, one more.” He promises, arm wrapping protectively around you. Your body feels like lead as the arm curled around you props your leg up. The other disappears and then promptly reappears with his cock pinched between his fingers. He pushes the tip through your folds and collects your slick. He’s already drenched in precum, a wet spot on the sheets from where he was grinding.  “Can you do that for me?” He rests the tip against your weeping hole, waiting for you to reply. “Need you to talk to me, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck, I—yes,”

He nudges the tip in and gently works his way back in. He’s long and thick and well aware that he’s a lot to take whether or not he was just inside you minutes ago. But he’s going too slow, that same stupid pace that drove you nuts earlier. 

“Not again, Don, please not a-again!” Fat tears drop across the bridge of your nose as you slump against him.

Don’s free hand soothes you, “Shh, don’t worry, just don’t want to hurt you.” Upon your distressed whines he begins to fuck, hard and fast. He rests his cheek on your temple and rolls his hips as fast as he can while still pushing deep. You go alarmingly silent, and gun grabs ahold of your chin. “Hey, hey, you okay?” 

“Hnnn!” 

You clench and his pattern falters, he’s painfully hard and hungry for release but you must cum first. You raise up on one elbow; Don follows and slips his arm through the newly formed crevice. His fingers find the pert pink but that is your nipple and trace around it. He flicks it back and forth and eventually pinches it between his index and thumb. A drawn-out cry leaves your drooling lips. Don’s free hand finds lifted knee and he hoists it even higher and rolls his hips harder. 

“Oh—” your head falls back, and Don pecks your temple. “I-hah-have to…gonna cum.”

“Yeah?”

Don fucks you so hard the bed creaks and mattress shifts, his skin slaps against yours and leaves behind a sharp sting. His leftover frustration bubbles up and takes over. He’s absolutely savage in giving you your last climax. Broken moans tumble out of his lips as your pussy constricts around him. You suck up empty breaths and Don knows you’re close. He drapes your suspended leg over his hip and reaches for your clit. He musters up enough coordination to find his way through the mess and stroke the aggravated organ. He feels where his cock has stretched you and lets out the most guttural groan as he pinches his throbbing cock between his fingers. 

Black spots obscure your vision as you cum. You thrash and collapse into him, “I got you. I got you. I’m right here.” He whispers into your ear as you cream around him. He takes it for as long as he can withstand, wanting to help you ride out your high, but when the dam bursts he has to pull out and roll onto his back. He strokes himself from balls to tip once, twice, before his insides are racked with his delayed orgasm, and he spills creamy white semen all over his stomach. He pulls you close, rubbing your tummy with the hand still tucked under you. 

“You alright?” He partially sits up and brushes back your hair. Sweat has beaded on your forehead and your eyes have shut tight. He jostles your shoulder until you nod. “Good, let me clean you up.” 

He climbs off the mattress and crosses the room on his shaky legs. He draws a warm bath, adding some bubbles to it before scooping you up setting you in the tub. “Are you okay, Donny?” Your eyes open just a hair and kiss his hand. The blisters and callouses hurt your heart. 

“I am now.” He returns the kiss to your nose before turning to analyze the state of your room. The mattress is damn near falling off the bedframe and the sheets have somehow been tugged from the corner. He lugs the mattress back onto the frame and replaces the sheets. He scrubs his cum off his belly then he’s climbing into the bath with you. The hot water eases the soreness in his whole body. 

You soak together, billing and cooing about the day. Don lets it slip about practice and you snort. “That’s what this has been about?” 

“Hey, now,” A smile plays at his lips as you tease.

You swat him, “Don’t even play innocent. Not after what you just did.” 

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“I’m only teasing, Donny, I’m good.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, you worry wart.” You kiss his tender lips. He cleans you with soap and and washes your hair, fingers massaging your scalp. For a while you rest your head on his chest. Until your eyelids become heavy and you’re in danger of falling asleep in the bathtub. Don helps you out of the tub and into some pjs before he’s ushering you into bed. “You should stay.”

“You want me to?”

“You ask too many questions, Don, get in.” He slips in and nestles himself against you. He’s still bare, knowing he’ll get too hot in his sleep and also knowing what he’ll be like in the morning. The only reason her got you dressed was for the soul purpose and privilege of undressing you later. But that’s for the morning and for now he just wants to cuddle up and sleep off a long day. 

...

Dear reader,

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this fic please check out my other works on my masterlist. Requests are open if you want to ask . Have a nice day.

-the author

[heartgifs]

— JACK MULHERN in THE BOYS IN THE BOAT (2023) 

FREE CONTENT — *    💖  if you click on the source link, you’ll find 142 gifs of 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐍 ( 1994 ) in role of don hume in the boys in the boat. jack is white and is currently 29 years old, please cast accordingly and use appropriately. all of the gifs were made by me from scratch. please don’t edit or claim as yours! feel free to edit them for personal use. please like or reblog if these help you . ♡

[sassyandclassy94]

I’m Not Much of a Talker

Don Hume x Original Female Character

Part 1 of my “He’s Progressed and She’s Impressed” Series

Summary: Don has his first date ever. And I mean Ever. ✨E V E R✨

Word count: 7,162 (buckle up, buttercups! This was longer than I intended)

Rating: Teen and up

Author’s note: This story was inspired by one of the many headcanons @groovin2beats and I have been throwing back and forth - I hope you like it, and that it also has enough Bobby in it :)

Also tagged: @solo-pitstop-vibes

Part Two

__________________________________________

Don was deep in thought while he walked to the general store. So much so that he didn’t hear Bobby yelling at him from across the street and the next thing he knew, Bobby was at his side, interrupting his racing mind with a nudge to his side.

“Going deaf on me now, Hume?”

All Don did was shake his head and continued walking.

“So where ya headed?” Bobby had to quicken his pace in order to keep up with Don’s long stride.

“The store.”

“What’re the chances? I’m headed there too!” Bobby noticed that Don was ignoring him. “You okay there, Don? You seem… quieter than normal.”

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t. Truth be told, his stomach was in knots and the knots were only getting tighter the closer he got to the store.

Bobby wasn’t convinced and, after prodding again, Don snapped at him. “We’re not in the boat, Moch; you don’t have to cox me.”

Bobby let his remark fly; Don was obviously worked up about something and was in a mood so for now, he’d let him be. Okay.

Full fic on AO3

[applebutter-and-cinnamon]

I have like 4 Don Hume drafts and I can’t seem to post any of them because my brain has decided that they all suck.

[staud]

joe & don – the boys in the boat (2023)

[kcsplace]

Bobby splashing water onto a very sick Don's face and then patting his feet because it's all he can reach when he's out of it after the prelim race at the Olympics is the fucking cutest thing after the dance scene

[souslar]