#//ITS THERE!! FOR THE WHOLE WORLD TO SEE!!!

[moonlight-prose]

a request, if i may, of praising old man logan as he filfthly eats you out and it makes him combust the more you praise him? okay running away again

speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life

a/n: look at him taking off his glasses in absolute shock of this ask- no okay does old man logan have a praise kink? i would raise it higher and say every version of logan has a massive praise kink. this is a man who wants to know he's doing good in life. his love language is acts of service so he might get to hear a pretty thank you. also i'm not sorry for how feral this got. i have no explanation.

summary: he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

word count: 3k+

pairing: old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), praise kink, logan is obsessed, dirty talk via reader, he is so pretty when he blushes, manhandling, cumplay, cumeating, overstimulation, crying, he's needy in this one, angst, tortured soul of an old man, reverence, religious trauma + greek mythology hints.

He can feel the strings of fate pull tight around his broken heart. In a failed attempt to draw him back together. To piece together an organ that barely beat for him anymore. He might have felt it once, before it broke. Before it gnarled itself like the branches of a dying tree, one half twisting away from the other in a desperate attempt of survival.

He deemed it a useless part of his body until you came along. You with your smile that held enough cloying sweetness to choke him as he stood helpless. Silently begging for you to say his name. To bring him back to life.

Whatever horrors that plagued his mind—endless nightmares that promised nothing but anguish—suddenly came crashing to a halt at the sight of you. So pretty in your denim jeans and velvet top. An angel seated in the center of a bar that held more filth than you deserved to be near. Logan couldn’t fathom that luck struck him this hard.

Not when death had already claimed his soul; notched yet another tally in the endless wall of people that came before.

He felt the dirt pack under his nails as he clawed his way out of the grave he put himself in. Years spent alone—a man lost to the ravages of time—had turned him bitter. With rough edges and biting words that stung far more than he intended. How could he believe he deserved to live after he contributed so much to the endless pool of blood that tainted his soul? How was he allowed such softness after biting off bits of brutality his whole life?

Logan was pretty sure he survived on borrowed time that had already run out. He could feel death breathe down his neck as the days went on. A reminder that what little of his life remained would be spent suffering. And he found that accepting it was easier than battling against the will of God, or whoever toyed with his lifeline.

It was far easier to die than find a reason to live.

Until you said his name.

Softly. Sweetly. Reverence wrapped in a tight grasp of need.

You brought him back from the edge—took his hand and refused to take no for an answer. You and the safety of your touch; the promise in your kiss. You dragged him into a life he didn’t earn; one that almost tasted too sweet—too sour.

After near a decade of being buried beneath the dirt, he felt himself collapse above ground and suck in his first real gasp of fresh air. Alive, once more. Hell spit him out with a vow of love and who was he to argue against it.

His fingers dug into your plush thighs, tugging them open to see what lay between. He marveled at their softness, eyes wide and awestruck at the sight of you spread beneath him. You practically glowed in the dim light of the bedside table. Yellow, musty, yet angelic when it caressed your body with its heavenly touch.

He wondered if this was real life; your nails digging sharply into his shoulders gave him the answer.

"Logan," you sighed, voice high with need.

The strings pulled taught. A vice like hold that drew him to you.

Maybe that's what this unutterable feeling was. The gnawing pit at the bottom of his heart. A greed he'd never indulged before—too afraid of what it might ask for next. He wasn't a man who asked for much. Rather someone that found himself far too content with nothing. But tonight he found his lips forming the words of a false prayer that his mother taught him as a child.

Hail the angel in his bed. Hail every good fucking thing you brought into his life.

His teeth sunk into your thigh, body jolting at your responding moan. Fingers dug into his hair, tugging at the mussed locks with a high pitched whine. You were a needy little thing, but Logan found he desperately wanted to be needed.

He smiled laving his tongue over the tender spot, working his way up to where you dripped for him.

So slick. So perfect.

Saliva filled his mouth. "What do ya want baby?"

Your chest heaved; he could feel the heat of your body under his palms. "Your m-mouth Logan."

His eyes trailed along your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. The room was thick with the humid air of the outside world. But that didn't deter him from craving your skin near his. The pressure of your thighs around his head a welcome weight. If he sunk his teeth in where the curve of your leg met your hip he knew he could draw out that soft choking noise he longed to hear on days spent driving alone.

If he had his way he'd crawl into you to seek your serenity straight from the source. He'd never divulge about the ache that chewed him up on the inside, but Logan wondered if you knew. Could you tell how much he craved you? How much he couldn't live without you.

When your glittering eyes met his, the resolve he spent years building cracked like glass. You peered into him as if he was a stained glass window. A god you were more than happy to worship.

"You want me to lick this pretty pussy?" Fuck, he sounded drunk off your taste already.

His mouth hovered over your throbbing clit, your scent now filling his senses. Overwhelming him with what he wanted most. But he needed to hear it. The lilt of your begging; the soft echo of your need that washed over him like soothing river water.

He couldn't live without it.

"Yes," you sobbed, thigh twitching.

The string sliced his heart open, blood pooling onto the white bed sheets. Oh what a sweet death your love made. Oh...what a bittersweet way to go.

He'd die right now if you asked him to. Hand over his heart on a silver platter if you so wished it. Maybe that made him far too gone for his own good, but Logan couldn't remember a time in his life where he got this. Safety. The hope of love burning far too bright and far too hot for him to fly near it.

Yet there he was. Icarus happily soaring in your sun like glow.

"I got ya honey," he murmured. "Gonna take care of what's mine."

You nodded frantically—tears welling up in your eyes. "You take care of me Logan."

The breath in his chest stuttered, eyes dark as the words fell past your swollen lips. He wanted to explain why his cock twitched against his stomach. Why he now leaked into the sheet with heavy panted breaths. But every time he came up short with the words needed to form an answer.

"Yeah I do sweetheart," he breathed. "Don't I?"

"Uh-huh."

"Take care of what belongs to me."

There was no warning when his hands dragged you closer with a rough tug, mouth closing over your clit with a desperate suck. A cry wrenched from your mouth, sparks sharply traveling down your spine. He licked through your slick with a growl. Hands an unbreakable press against your thighs.

The sight of your body bowed, mouth open for small gasped breaths that never came, snapped something in his mind. He was an old man. Well past his years. But the taste of your pussy along his tongue brought back a ferocity he often tamped down in his younger age. He felt the feral want claw at his chest, and answered it with a broken snarl.

Swallowing down every drop you gave him, he plunged his tongue into your entrance, thrusting messily until a smear of your shiny slick began to coat his mouth. It covered his cheeks and clung to the hair of his beard. He'd clean it out later, taste you on his tongue until he was aching for another go. But for now he was preoccupied with the way you cried for him.

"Oh fuck!" Your thighs trembled over his shoulders, hips canting down to drag yourself along his tongue. "So good."

He shuddered, eyes rolling back at the sound of your praise. You caught it within seconds, lips pulling into a breathless smile that left him gasping for air. His teeth nipped at your thigh briefly as his hips ground into the mattress below.

"You like that baby?" you breathed, thumb smearing your own slick against his cheek.

Something hot washed over his body. A needy sick and twisted ache that he'd never indulged in before. He wanted to be a good man to you; longed to be needed. And fuck if you didn't give him everything.

You were his walking wet dream. His future handed off and wrapped in a neat little bow.

"L-Love your tongue Logan-" A high gasp tore from your throat when he dived back in. Slurping at your clit with a heady moan as you dragged him closer. "Taking care of me so well."

His hips canted down into the bed, fucking his cock along the warmth of his stomach, as you gushed into his mouth again. Eyes zeroed in on your face, pupils dilated as he growled into your flesh. You no longer could see the man you loved, but the feral side he tamped down during the day. The animal he longed to release in your presence.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum."

His arms looped around your thighs and with a sharp yank, he had his face buried deep enough to suffocate himself. You sobbed an incoherent version of his name. Nails clawed at his shoulders, but Logan could feel the pulse of your clit under his tongue.

He sucked it into his mouth with a grunt, rolling it along his tongue as you trembled with the oncoming shocks of an orgasm that threatened to destroy you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks and Logan felt the satisfying part of his heart begin to stitch itself back together. The strings were tight enough to numb his pain. To quell the flare of agony.

That used to be all he knew, all he counted on most days. When there was nothing left and he'd propped the shovel in the dirt—his grave open and waiting—he stumbled right into your arms. He found his reason for living.

Heat curled around his spine as you shook with the impending orgasm—the stimulation on your clit practically debilitating. He grunted into your soaked flesh, eyes narrowed as he chased the release that pulled his stomach taut. But this wasn't for him to indulge in; this wasn't his pleasure.

So with a throaty moan you felt reverberate along your body, he scraped his teeth along your clit and watched as your body went stiff.

"Logan!" you cried, fingers scrambling for purchase on any part of him you could reach.

You gushed into his awaiting mouth, praises of it's so good, you're so good falling upon his ears like the whimpered prayers of a devout worshiper thanking your god.

"Taste so fuckin' good," he mumbled, drunk on what you gave him.

He didn't care that you were jolting with each pass of his tongue along your pussy. He didn't care that you were shocked with overstimulation, small broken cries of his name muffled by the press of your thighs against his ears. He licked at you until he couldn't breathe. Buried his tongue into your twitching entrance and sucked out your cum with a happy hum.

"P-Please." You tugged at his hair, pulling him off you with a sob. "I-I can't anymore Logan."

"'M not fuckin' finished," he said, eyes glazed and face coated in your slick.

You made a mess of his face. The light catching along where you spilled into his mouth and along his throat. And still he wanted more. He'd spend hours between your thighs, burning your skin with his beard, if it meant he could divulge in your sweetness.

"It hurts-"

A grunt rumbled in his chest, his arms tugging you back even as your feet kicked along his back. "Just one more honey. Yeah?"

You shook your head. "B-But-"

"Thought you said it was good."

"It is."

"Then lemme be good for you." He wanted to tell you that the world went quiet between your thighs. That all his grief, all his pain, lessened when you sobbed his name.

He wanted to show you the string that looped his heart to yours—the only thing keeping him alive—and thank you for bringing him back from the dead. But words weren't his forte. Violence had become the only tenderness he knew and you didn't deserve the rough edges of an old man. You should have more.

But when you let him touch you like this—caress your skin and lick between your folds—he felt as if he was a man who finally was worthy of someone as precious as you. He could pretend he didn't bear the brunt of a fucked up soul.

The weight on his chest lifted when your tear filled gaze met his and you nodded. Small, barely there, but it was enough for him to seal his mouth back over you with a ragged moan. Your body shook as his tongue slid through the seam of your pussy. The tip nudging against your clit—careful to draw the pleasure from your body slowly.

He didn't want to give you pain. His heart wouldn't survive that. But he was a broken man; someone who begged for more even as his teeth sunk into what was already given.

You were his meal. His sacrament in the midnight hours until dawn broke across the darkened sky. You were the other half of his soul.

How could he not indulge in your sweetened tang until his tongue went stiff?

"I love you," you sighed, eyes rolled back when he sucked at your pussy, a wet low moan echoing in the air. "My p-perfect husband."

The cold press of his wedding band against your thigh drove him over the edge. You weren't officially married. Didn't have the backyard wedding with a preacher to match. But Logan had placed a ring on your finger near a year ago, sliding one over his own with the vow of forever cemented in his words.

Even if that didn't mean much in the eyes of a god who abandoned him near a century ago.

"Oh-"

Your head tipped back, mouth dropping open as his fingers dipped into your wet heat. Thrusting lazily until he found the spongey patch along your walls—driving the pad of his middle finger into it with a needy moan.

He knew it wouldn't take long for you to fly off the edge of a second release. That didn't make watching you climb to that peak any less satisfying. The sight appeased his soul. It gave him a chance to breathe; let him know that after so much bad—after so much pain—he could do something good. He could bring you to the edge of pleasure and drag you over again and again.

He could finally be the man you believed he was.

Not the animal they created.

"C'mon," he muttered. Eyes fixed on the shape of your breasts as your body curved off the bed. Hips dragging along his face with a stunted cry.

A wail bounced off the walls, piercing his eardrums with the symphony of your cries. His fingers rapidly pumped into you with a squelch that had heat burning his cheeks—lips pulling your throbbing clit into his mouth as you broke. The climax slammed into you; battering your already swollen pussy.

Logan could feel his cock swell at the sight.

"Fuckin' perfect," he grunted, teeth bared as he clambered to his knees and wrapped his fist soaked in your slick around his leaking cock. "'M gonna cum sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered open, fingers digging into his thigh. "Please. Wanna see it baby. Look so pretty when you cum Logan."

His chest tightened, body shaking while you watched in rapture as he fucked his fist rapidly. He wouldn't fucking last, could feel the burning consume his body, but something held him back. The string around his heart yanked him away from the edge, tearing a cry from his throat when his frustration peaked.

You could see it—the glimmer of need in his dark eyes. This wasn't the first time he longed for your words. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

So you spread your legs and sat up slowly—arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring his lips down to yours. A soft moan was muffled by your mouth; the peak of his release within reach. He could practically feel the tips of his fingers graze it.

"Cover my pussy baby," you mumbled into his mouth. "Be good for me and mark what's yours."

The growl came from the very bottom of his chest when he finally came. Your name was a bitten out snarl pressed to your mouth in an open mouth kiss as he spurted over his knuckles. He pumped his cock to milk every drop; eyes fixed on the way it covered the swollen lips of your pussy. Dripping down to your entrance that fluttered at the sight of his sweaty and crimson tinged face.

"I fuckin' love ya honey," he murmured, hand cupping your chin to drag your lips back to his. "Best thing that's happened in my life is you."

You smiled, thumbs pressing to his cheeks. "Love you too Logan."

Clutching you close, he felt the string go loose. The breath finally rushing back into his lungs at the sight of your eyes glowing with the kind of light that brought him back to the first day The night he met you in that shitty bar—alcohol the only thing on his mind until he saw you.

The night you spoke his name over his covered grave and dragged him back to life with a smile.

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[nymphoniah]

lessons learned | logan howlett

AN: here's a little drabble about logan fucking you from behind, keeping you in a headlock, squished between his biceps <3 and also some dirty talk here and there!

pairing: mean!logan x afab!reader

content/tags: NSFW, minors DNI (18+ only), dom!logan, choking, dacryphilia, name calling, porn without plot, dirty talk, creampies, unprotected sex, pet names (princess, doll, etc.), size kink, mark leaving (ie. hickeys), breeding kink, brat taming, rough sex

logan sees the way you watch his arms hungrily, your lust blown pupils observing the way his muscles twitch when he's feeling tired. he knows the chokehold he has on you.

just a poor little thing, wrapped around his finger.

"i see the way you look at my arms, darlin", he grunts, manhandling you so your back presses against his chest, his toned arms snaking around your waist, keeping you locked in place.

"you don't even try to hide it," logan adds, pressing kisses against your shoulder, his hands working at the straps of your tank top, slowly sliding them down to reveal your tits.

"such a dirty girl, hm?" he teases, rolling the sensitive buds between his thumb and index finger.

"were you ever taught that it was rude to stare?" he hisses, tugging at your nipples, making you wince out in pain. logan smirks at your audible displeasure, now turning his attention from your tits to your neck.

"i’m gonna mark you up doll, ‘oughta teach you a lesson somehow," he growls. logan presses a kiss against the shell of your ear, making his way down to your nape, planting wet kisses along the way.

you lean forwards, giving him easier access to your neck—and when you give him an inch, he takes a mile.

his kisses get more erratic, sloppier, messier, hungrier. he can’t hold himself back, he needs to mark you, and absolutely wants to show the whole world that you’re his.

and so he sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your neck, paying sweet attention to how your weak moans escaped from your lips. he’d nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave those love bites you both oh-so carnally desire.

your brain is all fuzzy from the stinging pain you felt on your neck, mixed alongside the growing pleasure you felt between your legs as he simultaneously paws at your tits.

“i can’t take it lo, s’too much,” you whine, shutting your eyes tight. tears start forming around your waterline as he continues his assault on your neck.

just as your vision starts to get hazy, he wraps his left arm around your neck, keeping your face snug between his forearm and bicep.

“be a good girl and fuckin’ take it,” he commands, a singular claw popping out of his right hand, slicing through your mini-skirt to reveal your lacy black pair of panties.

sheathing his claw, he hastily pulls them down to reveal your sopping wet cunt. “fuck me…” he hisses, admiring your cunt in all its glory.

“such a dirty fuckin’ whore, you getting off on this?” he says smugly, slipping a finger between your folds, observing the way your pussy sucks him in.

you weakly nod as you remain sandwiched in his headlock. teetering between the lines of passing out and losing consciousness, you mumble out a string of words—something along the lines of “i need you to fuck me,” or “fuckin’ put it in”; they both mean the same thing to logan anyways.

he obliges, with one arm wrapped around your neck, and the other hastily working at the belt of his jeans. in one swift motion, his boxers and jeans hit the floor in tandem, freeing his cock from the confines of the tight denim.

he spits in his hand, pumping his cock a couple times before he finally lines himself up, and slides himself in, down to the hilt. your pussy sucks him in like a vice, the two of you moaning in unison.

“you’re so tight for me, princess.” he groans, thrusting into you at a rapid pace, fully sheathing himself out, and pushing his full length back into you.

the sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room. the pace of which he fucked you made you dizzy, the grip around your neck adding to the immense pleasure you felt in your cunt.

you attempt to press kisses against his bicep as the muscle secures you in place, but you fail to do so, as shown by your wine red lip stick smudged all over his arm.

“such a naughty whore, suckin’ me in like this” he teases, his free hand pressing against the bulge on your stomach, disappearing and reappearing with every thrust of his. “need this dick to fill you up, huh?”

and you whine as much as your parched voice allowed you to. “want you so bad, lo” you mumble incoherently. “need you stuff me with your cum.”

“such a filthy mouth for a sweet little girl like you,” logan grunts, the movement of his hips getting sloppier. “beg for it.”

“need you to fuckin’ breed me,” you moan, “make me yours,” you cry out— and that’s what makes logan snap.

with a few final deep thrusts, he finishes inside you. his hot ropes of cum fill your cunt to the brim; your arousal mixed with his cum leaks out of your sopping hole before he even pulls out.

he keeps his cock inside you for a minute, pumping whatever he has left inside of you, and finally pulls out. he winces, already missing the way your gummy walls wrapped tightly around his cock.

“need to keep that in you…” he says playfully, plugging your cunt with his thumb, the calloused pad making sure that his cum is stuffed deep inside you.

“now let that be a lesson for you, doll,” he quips, removing his thumb, slipping it into his mouth to taste the mixture of the two of you.

he then brings his thumb to your bottom lip, inviting you to have a taste for yourself. the heady taste of his cum combined with your slick had you moan around him.

he pulls his thumb away from your mouth with a pop, and you look up at him with your fucked-out eyes. you simply nod your head and give him a lazy smile.

surely it wouldn’t hurt to stare at him every now and then.

[emmyrosee]

Pls pls pls help a girl out!!

Its shark 🦈 week and whenever I’m in shark week I crave angst full on body angst ne you write it best 😭 pity me

I write it the best…? 🥺🩷 also no specific character in mind for this, but yall are married so 🫶🏻

————-

You’ve been yelling at each other for hours.

The circles of verbal assault haven’t slowed its pace, vile, cruel words flying from one mouth to pierce the heart of the other, only for the other words to come harder, meaner, louder. The throes of anger keep you both pinned in place, unable to stop, think, and see the damage you’re causing each other.

Your hands are swollen from your fists being so tightly balled, migraine forming from your scowling. His brows are stuck pinched in the center of his forehead, so deep you’re convinced they’ll stay there for days after you’re done. His teeth are grit so tight together that you want to massage his jaw to make them loosen before he shatters his pearly whites into pieces.

The culprit? A cold cup of tea, that now sits to the side dejectedly.

Because of that cold cup of tea, you’ve been screaming for two, going onto three hours, with no end in sight.

But, it’s not about the cold tea. It’s about the fact that the urgency in your love is gone, the quickness and determination to be with each other has dissolved into nothing but sugar melting in a mug of tea. Your time together has been awkward, it’s been minimal, and in your search to do something nice for him, like a warm cup of tea, he allowed it to get cold, and… what happened next?

There’s boundaries being crossed, lines of truce being broken as you cast vicious words against each other, the use of insecurities to make the other crumble and conjure a look of hurt, only to morph to disgust and yell back something even more heinous.

And yet…

“What did I even marry you for?” He snarls, throwing his arms out. “I’m certain it wasn’t for this! So why are we wasting our time right now?”

Your world stops.

In an instant, all words die on your tongue. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish as all you can think about are his words. They repeat in your head, almost in slow motion, as your heart sinks in your chest.

“What…?” you croak. Your throat is dry, mouth cottony, and you silently pray to anything, holy and not, merciful and malicious, that you didn’t hear him right. Your mind is lying, so tired of fighting you’re seeing the worst in him as a defense mechanism.

“You heard me,” he barks. “Your life is so miserable? You hate it here so much? GO.”

You heard him right.

You wished you hadn’t.

Your arms come up to cradle yourself in comfort, the fire swirling in your chest now extinguished, the once lively fight now being reduced to a ringing in your ear.

You’d… when did he…

“You don’t get to sit here, call me a cheater, a loser, a liar, all for your own good mind. Not when I’ve put my whole LIFE into you. I gave you my WHOLE. LIFE.”

“Why…”

“What?” He snarls.

You sniffle. Your bottom lip wobbles, and you blink a line of scalding tears out; you’re surprised they don’t sizzle your flesh from being so hot with frustration.

“Why… are you being so mean?”

“Mean?” He snaps. “Mean, you’ve called me some of the cruelest shit I’ve ever heard in your vocabulary, but I’m being mean? Do you even hear yourself, IM THE MEAN ONE?”

“Do you really wonder why you married me…?”

Your voice is so quiet, you wonder if he heard you.

He opens his mouth to spew his venom, only to stop dead in his tracks. His brows soften as his eyes widen, jaw slacking subtly. For the first time tonight, the room is quiet; still thick enough to cut the tension with a blade, but it’s quiet enough where you both can gather your thoughts.

You wipe your nose with your arm, “do you really think I want to stay here and fight with you? Is that how you think I want to spend my night with you?” You sob softly, “because it’s not. I don’t want to fight with you over cold tea… I don’t want to…”

You can practically see the lightbulb over his head light up. That’s right, you think to yourself. This is about tea.

“I…”

“I don’t question why I married you,” you whimper. “I know exactly why- because I love you. But the man I know would never, and I mean never, verbally assault and question his love for me over a cold. Cup. Of. Tea.”

“I don’t…” he shakes softly. “How did we get here…?”

“You started this war,” you hiss. “I didn’t.”

“Baby…”

“Don’t you fucking baby me,” you snap. “No. You don’t get to do that as a way to weasel out of this. You’re not going to guilt me with pet names to forgive you.”

“No, no, baby- damn, no, I mean-“

“You know what?” You pull your lips down into a frown and throw your hands out in defeat. “You want me gone so bad? I’m gone.”

“No, no, wait,” he begs, reaching out for one of your hands. You whip them back like he’s made of fire, and he reels away, as if keeping you safe, “no, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t question my love for you, I’d rather die than ever have you wonder if I love you-“

“Then you’d better have a goddamned good explanation for this,” you hiss. “Because right now? We’re done.”

“No!”

“I’m…” your strength is gone. Your lip quivers and your hand comes up to cover your mouth, and you wail as you make a dash out of the room, darting for the bedroom. You lock the door and slam your fist against the wood, screaming, howling in agony at the heartbreak of potentially losing your husband over a cold cup of tea.

Things spiraled so far out of control, that he questioned his love for you. How are you to come back from that? Angry words are truth shrouded in cruelty, and you are not going to let him berate you in such a manner as to wonder if this marriage was a good choice. You deserve far more, far better, than that.

On the other side of the door, you hear a soft poomf, then a thump. You stop crying to try and figure out the noises and their purpose.

“I’m here,” he says quietly, a far different tone from how he was speaking to you not three minutes ago. “I won’t try to come in. I won’t make you talk to me. But I’m here… and I love you. And I’m sorry.”

“Bite me,” you choke.

You hear him sigh through his nose, “I… I know why I married you,” he whispers. You don’t say anything. He continues regardless, “because you’re you. And on our first date, you were late because you hated the outfit you had planned, but you looked so fucking good, I couldn’t handle it. And it was that day, I decided I wanted to wait for you, forever. You are more than worth waiting for. And…” you hear him clear his throat, but there’s an emotional block in his voice, “I’ll keep waiting for you. Right here, on this floor. I’ll sleep, I’ll eat, I’ll piss I’ll die here, I don’t care, I’m right here. And I’ll stay here to prove that you’re worth waiting for.” He shudders.

“I’m happy to wait for you.”

———

haikyuu: daichi, kageyama, tsukishima, kuroo, yaku, iwaizumi, mattsun, hanamakki, oikawa, kyotani, ushijima (different font), kita (also different font), atsumu, osamu, suna, sakusa, meian

bnha: bakugou, dabi, hawks

jjk: gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, toji, shiu

tokyo rev: baji, draken, mikey, hanma, rindou

[hoshifighting]

Hey pookie so I just wanted to ask seeing that you didn't see any of my asks in your inbox could you write me a ff where you're in seventeen and you used to have a friends with benefits situation with wonwoo but now that's over and you're with josh but he knows that so now he wants to have a threesome with you and won I you are comfortable and have the time😊����

threesome with; actual situationship!joshua & past situationship!wonwoo WC: 3.3k WARNINGS: smut, threesome, reader misses wonwoo, mentions of ovulation/sensitiveness, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), body fluids (cum) penetrative sex, a teeth scratch during blowjob—no pain, joshua and wonwoo making eye contact as they fuck you—idk, but felt like a warning.

you’re not entirely sure how it started. maybe it’s the way joshua’s always had this easy charm, like he knows exactly how to say shit that gets under your skin. but it’s not the kind of annoyance that makes you want to push him away, it’s the kind that makes you want to shut him up by doing things that leave the both of you breathless.

and wonwoo… well, wonwoo’s always been a different story. it’s not like he’s cold, exactly. just detached, distant. except when he’s not. except when his hands were on your hips, and his mouth was on your neck, and when he pulled you so close that it’s like he wanted to remind you how much he can feel.

it wasn’t supposed to last as long as it did, but it did. until it didn’t.

now, though? now you’ve got joshua, and that’s its own thing. he’s smoother than wonwoo ever was, always knows how to keep things light and playful even when his touch is hot and heavy. you’re not sure what to call what you have with him—it’s not exactly a relationship, but it’s not casual either. and he knows about wonwoo. of course he does. you never accomplished about lying to joshus, he knows everything about you, and you simply cant lie looking inside his eyes.

“so,” joshua says, leaning back against the couch, his eyes fixed on you with that lazy smirk you’ve come to expect. “what if we changed things up?”

you raise a brow, not quite following. “changed things up how?”

his gaze flicks over you, dark in his eyes now, something you’ve only seen in flashes before, right when he’s about to get serious. “i know about you and wonwoo. i know it’s over, but…” he lets the words hang there, knowing exactly how to build suspense. “what if it didn’t have to be over?”

you feel your stomach flip, your mind racing to catch up with the suggestion that’s hanging in the air like a loaded gun. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look like he’s joking. “i’m talking about the three of us.”

you let out a laugh, more out of shock than anything. “a fucking threesome? with wonwoo?” it’s so ridiculous, but there’s something twisted in your chest that says it’s not entirely a bad idea.

joshua just shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “you said he was good, right? no reason to keep that all to yourself. besides… i’m curious.”

“curious?” you echo, still not believing what you’re hearing. “about what exactly?”

his smile turns wicked, and he leans forward, his lips brushing your ear. “about what it’d be like to see you with him. to see how you’d react if it was both of us. together.”

the idea rolls through your mind like wildfire, igniting thoughts you didn’t even know were buried there. you picture it—wonwoo’s quiet dom that you remembered, joshua’s charming and sensual—and suddenly, the room feels too hot, your heart beating too fast.

you lean back, eyes narrowed. “and what makes you think wonwoo’s even into that?”

joshua grins, knowing exactly what he’s doing. “oh, he’s into it. trust me.”

you don’t need to ask how he knows, and that’s what gets to you. this whole situation, as absurd as it sounds, feels almost inevitable. the tension between you and joshua’s always been good enough, but throw wonwoo into the mix, and it’s like adding gasoline to a slow-burning fire.

“you really think this is a good idea?” you ask, not sure if you’re talking to joshua or yourself at this point.

“i think it’s an idea,” he says, shrugging again, that confidence never leaving his face. “whether or not it’s a good one is up to you.”

you bite your lip, torn between the pull of curiosity and the weight of everything that’s gone down with wonwoo. it wasn’t messy when it ended, but it wasn’t exactly clean either. things like that don’t just disappear. they linger.

“fuck, you’re serious about this.” it’s not a question, more like a realization. joshua’s leaning in, his hands tracing light patterns over your skin, and you feel yourself giving in to the inevitable, even though part of you is still screaming that this is insane.

“completely,” he says, his lips grazing your jaw. “so, what do you say? wanna see how far we can push this?”

there’s a moment, where you think about what this could mean. it’s not just about sex, not with joshua and wonwoo involved. the way joshua’s eyes burn into yours as if he’s daring you to cross a line you can never uncross.

but then, you think about the way wonwoo used to look at you, that hunger in his sharp eyes, and the way joshua’s always been able to coax you into doing things you never thought you’d be into. and, well… maybe crossing that line isn’t the worst idea after all.

“alright,” the weight behind it feels like a door being kicked wide open. “let’s do it.”

joshua’s grin stretches wider, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “that’s what i thought you’d say.”

you can feel wonwoo's presence, even though wonwoo’s not here yet. but you know—you know—that when he is, things are going to change in a way none of you can ever take back.

and the fucked up part is? you’re not sure you’d want to.

[...]

“a threesome?!”

wonwoo’s voice cuts through the room. he’s standing at the foot of joshua’s bed, his eyes wide in disbelief—those same eyes that are always narrow, focused, but right now they’re blown open like he just heard the most ridiculous thing in his life.

honestly, you can’t blame him.

you sit there, smaller than you’ve ever felt, wrapped in the sheets like they might shield you from the exhasperation of his reaction. you’d expected some kind of pushback from wonwoo—he’s not exactly the most spontaneous guy—but the shock in his voice still stings more than you’d thought it would. joshua’s quiet beside you, arms folded across his chest, watching wonwoo with this unreadable look, lips pressed into a thin line. like he’s assessing the situation. like he’s waiting to see how this plays out.

“i—” you start, but your throat feels dry, your words dying before they’ve even formed. you shift, uncomfortable, but it’s not just the awkwardness of the moment. there’s something more, something deeper that’s making your skin feel hot, your body overly sensitive to every movement. you know what it is. you can feel it. your body’s buzzing, the ache between your thighs making itself known with every subtle shift of the sheets. you’re ovulating, and it’s making this whole thing worse, making your body respond in ways that are frustratingly out of your control.

wonwoo’s still staring, he looks at you, then at joshua, then back at you again. you don’t meet his eyes, can’t bring yourself to.

“are you serious?” his voice is lower now, more measured, but there’s still a note of incredulity in it.

you swallow hard, forcing yourself to look up at him. “yeah,” you say, voice quiet, but it’s the truth. “we’re serious.”

wonwoo looks like he’s processing it, his mind running a mile a minute, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression that tells you he’s considering it. and that’s enough for joshua, who leans forward slightly, his voice smooth, persuasive.

“it’s not as weird as it sounds,” joshua says, his tone light, like he’s just suggesting something casual, like going out for drinks. “you’re both already close. you trust each other, I know you for years. we’ve all got chemistry, right?”

wonwoo’s eyes narrow slightly at joshua, but the tension between them isn’t exactly hostile. it’s more like a challenge, like he’s weighing the pros and cons, trying to figure out if this is something he can actually wrap his head around.

finally, wonwoo sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, and when he speaks again, there’s a resigned sort of acceptance in his voice. “fuck it. okay.”

your heart jumps at the words. wonwoo’s gaze locks on yours, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no distance between you. no walls.

joshua doesn’t say anything, but you feel his presence, the way his eyes are on you, observing every little reaction. there’s something almost possessive in the way he watches, like he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

you don’t wait long.

before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re reaching for wonwoo, pulling him down by the front of his shirt until his lips crash into yours. it’s messy, a little frantic, and you missed him. so, so much. like you missed him more than you were willing to admit. you can’t help the small sound that escapes your throat, the way your body responds immediately, almost embarrassingly fast.

wonwoo’s hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, torching the fire that’s already been burning low in your belly.

joshua’s still silent beside you, but you feel his eyes on you, feel the way his presence lingers, close but not touching. when you finally pull away from wonwoo, breathless and dazed, you glance at joshua. his lips are pressed together in a tight line, his expression carefully neutral, but there’s a tension in his jaw that tells you he’s not unaffected by what he just saw.

“fuck,” wonwoo mutters, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “you’re… fuck, you’re wet already.”

you let out a shaky breath, your body pulsing with a need that’s only getting worse. “yeah,” you admit, not even embarrassed by it. “it’s… it’s the timing.”

wonwoo raises a brow, confused for a second, before realization dawns on his face. “oh.”

wonwoo knew about “the timing” he used to be your relief for it, and he remembered how sensitive you were.

joshua finally speaks up “she’s sensitive right now. been like this all day.”

you want it. you need it.

wonwoo’s eyes darken, his fingers tightening on your waist. “is that right?”

joshua’s watching closely, his hand brushing over your thigh, and the contact is enough to make your breath hitch, your body already responding before you can even think about it. “she’s all yours for now,” joshua murmurs. “but don’t get too comfortable.”

wonwoo’s lips are on yours again, his hands exploring your body with a familiarity that makes the nostalgia wash over you like grandma's food, and you can’t help but respond, your body arching into him.

every touch, every kiss feels magnified, like your senses are on overdrive, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from losing control entirely. you’re wet, so wet it’s embarrassing, and you know they can both feel it, know exactly how badly you want this, how badly you need it.

“fuck, you’re so sensitive,” wonwoo breathes against your skin, his fingers teasing along the waistband of your underwear, and you whimper at the contact, your hips bucking involuntarily. “can’t believe how wet you are.”

joshua leans in, his lips brushing wonwoo's ear as he whispers, “told you she’s been like this all day. it’s driving her crazy.”

you let out a shaky breath, wonwoo’s fingers dip lower, brushing against your soaked core, and you moan, your head falling back against joshua’s shoulder. it’s too much, but at the same time, it’s exactly what you’ve been craving, what your body’s been screaming for all day.

joshua’s hand slips under your shirt, his fingers brushing over your tits, twisting the hardened nipples, he’s letting wonwoo have you, letting you drown in it, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before he takes over.

wonwoo’s fingers slide inside you, slow at first, and the instant he curls them, you feel your body react, hips stuttering forward like you’re trying to chase the sensation, but can’t quite control it. it’s like your entire body remembers him, remembers the way he used to touch you, how he knows exactly what makes you fall apart.

you gasp, your forehead pressing against his chest, his free hand coming up to hold the back of your neck, keeping you close. “fuck,” you whisper, your breath ragged, your skin burning, fever. “wonwoo…”

he doesn’t respond with words, just lets out a low hum, his fingers working inside you with an infuriating pace, slow but so damn effective. you clench around him, feeling the wetness start to drip onto the sheets beneath you, and your mind’s a blur.

then, they share a look—wonwoo and joshua, their eyes meeting over your trembling form like they’re communicating something quietly between them. it makes your stomach tighten. wonwoo’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle as you crumble against him, barely able to hold yourself up.

“fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” wonwoo mutters, his fingers start moving faster, curling with every thrust, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes your knees buckle. “didn’t think you’d be this sensitive.”

“wonwoo—” you choke out, your head falling back, and your hand reaches out blindly for joshua. he’s pulling away, but you need him, need both of them. “joshua—”

you hear him groan softly, and when you turn your head, you see him standing there, his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly, watching you like he’s savoring the sight of you falling apart on wonwoo’s fingers. “fuck, you look so good like that,” he says, his voice thick with lust. “so fucking needy.”

you bite your lip, moaning as wonwoo’s fingers slide deeper, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room as your body betrays you. your thighs tremble, your hands clawing at the sheets, the sensation of being split between them making your head spin. “joshua,” you moan again, voice breaking. “please… come back.”

he doesn’t need much more convincing. you watch as he steps forward, his cock hard and slick in his fist. “you want me that bad, huh?” he murmurs, the teasing lilt in his voice cutting through the haze clouding your mind. “can’t handle just wonwoo?”

wonwoo chuckles softly, his fingers still working inside you. “she’s falling apart already,” he mutters, his breath hot against your neck. “not sure she can handle both of us.”

“she can,” joshua says confidently, his thumb swiping over the tip of his cock as he steps closer, looming over you. “she just needs a little encouragement.”

you’re already panting, your body on edge, teetering dangerously close to losing control completely. you can feel the wetness coating his hand now, dripping onto the sheets, and it only makes the whole thing worse. every little movement makes you more sensitive, your body almost too responsive, and the frustration builds in your chest.

joshua kneels down on the bed, his cock brushing your lips, and you open your mouth automatically, desperate to have him inside you. but the second you try to take him in, wonwoo’s fingers curl again, and you gasp, your body jerking uncontrollably.

“shit—” you whimper, struggling to breathe, “i can’t—”

joshua presses the tip of his cock against your lips, his eyes burning into yours. “oh, you’re just gonna have to try a little harder, baby.”

you moan against him, your hips rolling instinctively into wonwoo’s hand, your body caught in this maddening push and pull between the two of them. joshua slides his cock past your lips, and the feeling of him, heavy and warm on your tongue, only intensifies the sensation of wonwoo’s fingers inside you. you choke a little, struggling to focus on either one of them, but it’s impossible.

wonwoo’s pace picks up, his fingers thrusting deeper, and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pulls them out, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. you whine at the loss, your head spinning, but before you can even process it, he’s shifting lower, pressing your thighs apart with a firm grip.

“wonwoo—” you gasp, your words muffled around joshua’s cock.

“shh,” wonwoo murmurs, his breath hot against your inner thigh. “just relax.”

and then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a broad, slow stripe up your center, and your entire body seizes up, a broken moan ripping from your throat. your hips buck against his mouth, but he holds you down, his grip tight on your thighs as he starts devouring you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

“fuck,” joshua mutters, his hand tightening in your hair as you struggle to take him, the combination of wonwoo’s tongue on your clit and joshua in your mouth pushing you past the point of reason. “you’re so fucking wet. wonwoo’s making a mess out of you.”

you can’t respond, can barely even think, your mind a swirling mess. wonwoo’s tongue is relentless, teasing and sucking at your clit, his fingers slipping back inside you as he eats you out like it’s his only mission in life. you can feel your legs shaking, your entire body trembling as you try to keep up, but it’s impossible. every touch, every thrust of his fingers makes you more sensitive, makes it harder to breathe.

“fuck, i can’t—” you gasp, pulling off joshua’s cock for a second, your voice a desperate, breathless whine.

joshua just chuckles darkly, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. “you’re doing so good, baby. just a little more.”

wonwoo hums in agreement, the vibration against your clit making your entire body jolt, and you feel yourself spiraling, the tension building faster than you can handle. his tongue flicks over you again, and this time, he focuses on that one spot—the needy, throbbing clit—sucking just hard enough to send you over the edge.

you cry out, your back arching off the bed, your entire body shuddering as the orgasm rips through you, and you can’t do anything but ride it out, trembling and gasping for breath as wonwoo keeps going, his mouth never letting up.

“fuck, look at you,” joshua mutters, his voice full of awe as he watches you fall apart. “so fucking beautiful when you come. i love it.”

wonwoo finally pulls back, his lips shiny and slick with your cum, his eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you. “she’s not done yet,”

and you know he’s right.

“fuck, look at you,” wonwoo mutters, pulling back from between your legs, his lips still glistening with you. “i’ve got you ready for him, haven’t i?” the heat in your cheeks burning deeper as you realize what he means.

you don’t have time to respond before joshua's hands are on your hips, pulling you up to your knees. the shift makes you gasp, you glance back at him.

“yeah, you’ve got her real nice and wet for me,” joshua says, the blunt head of his cock teasing at your entrance. “good job, wonwoo.”

you feel a kick of embarrassment making your legs shake. wonwoo’s hand comes up to brush against your cheek, turning your face toward him as he looks down at you with that familiar gaze. “c’mere,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing over your lips. “i missed your pretty mouth.”

your lips part automatically, like you’re drawn to him, and before you know it, you’ve wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him toward your lips. he groans softly as you take him in, his hand resting on your jaw, fingers curling slightly as you suck him in deeper.

“god, i missed this,” he breathes out, his voice catching as you swirl your tongue around him, taking him deeper into your throat. “missed how fucking good you are at this.”

your cheeks flush at the praise, your body humming as joshua teases you from behind, the tip of his cock just narrowly entering you. wonwoo’s hand tightens on your jaw, guiding your movements as you bob your head up and down, your lips stretched around him. the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of him—everything is overwhelming in the best way.

but just as you start to take him in throat, joshua suddenly thrusts into you from behind, hard. the sharp intrusion makes you gasp around wonwoo’s cock, your teeth scraping lightly against him as the sudden cock fills you all at once.

“shit—!” wonwoo curses, his hips jerking as your teeth graze him, not enough to hurt, but enough to make him jolt. his eyes widen in shock, but then a shaky laugh escapes his lips, his free hand tightening in your hair as he steadies you. “motherfucker.”

joshua lets out a loud laugh behind you, clearly amused by wonwoo’s reaction. “sorry about that,” he says, but there’s no real apology in his tone, only satisfaction as he starts moving inside you again, his hips snapping forward with sharp, controlled thrusts that have you whimpering around wonwoo’s cock.

“you’re such a fucking asshole hyung,” wonwoo mutters, but the words are strained, his voice catching as he watches your lips stretch around him. his hand rests on the back of your neck now, guiding your head in time with his shallow thrusts as he slowly fucks your mouth. “fuck, just like that. good girl.”

joshua’s pace is relentless, his hips slamming into you from behind, both filling you—wonwoo in your mouth, joshua inside you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” joshua groans, his hands gripping your hips harder as he pushes deeper, the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking you filling the room. “woo, you’ve got her all loosened up, but she’s still so fucking tight around me.”

wonwoo chuckles, but it’s strained, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watches you struggle to take both of them. “yeah?” he mutters, his voice rough. “she’s so fucking wet, isn’t she? dripping all over you.”

joshua’s pace falters for just a second as he glances up at wonwoo, and for a moment, they lock eyes. it’s strange at first, like neither of them expected to find themselves in this situation—watching each other while they both take you apart. its strange, strange because...

they start to enjoy it.

they enjoy the way their faces contort, the way their moans mix together, the sight of you caught between them—cocks twitching.

joshua whimpers as looking wonwoo's eyes, a smirk playing at his lips as he gives you another sharp thrust, just to watch you choke around wonwoo’s cock.

the sound of both of them moaning, cursing, panting—it only makes you wetter, makes you crave more.

“shit,” joshua breathes out, his voice strained as he keeps up the brutal pace, his hand sliding up your back, fingers digging into your skin. “fuck, you’re taking us so well.”

wonwoo’s face contorts, his hand tightening in your hair as his cock twitches in your mouth. “you’re gonna make me come if you keep going like this,” he groans, his eyes rolling back slightly as he fights to stay in control.

you whimper around him, your body shaking as the pleasure builds higher and higher, and you can feel yourself getting closer, every movement, every touch is pushing you nigher, and the sounds of their moans, the way they’re both so fucking into it—it’s enough to send you over.

“cum for us,” joshua growls, as his hips slam into you again, harder this time.

wonwoo’s grip tightens, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he watches you, his fingers flexing slightly on the back of your neck. “show us how fucking good you are.”

your body finally gives in. you come hard, your entire body shaking with the power of it, your lips trembling around wonwoo’s cock as you gasp for air.

“fuck,” wonwoo groans, his hand tightening on your neck as his hips stutter forward, his cock twitching in your mouth as he follows you over the edge.

joshua isn’t far behind, his hips slamming into you one last time before he lets out a sly, throaty moan, his body tensing as he spills inside you, filling you up.

wonwoo pulls out of your mouth slowly, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips as he looks down at you. you look at him shaking your head, taking his cock inside your wet mouth again.

the man melts on the headboard, joshua sat, looking how you look eager to make wonwoo cum, like you just cant leave him hanging. your knees give out, but your neck keep working to bob your head.

there's a line of spit dripping from your chin, as you suck him moaning, as the simply action of sucking him, was stimulating you. wonwoo eyes are glued with joshua's, the hyung biting his own bottom lip as he watches every single detail.

wonwoo feels the cock twitching, the gaze of his hyung plus the warmth of your mouth, making him cum on spot. he looks back at you again, the cum filling your tongue, leaving traces of it on your chin and neck, as you moan dumbly before laying on his thigh.

the boys make eye contact again, a smile spreading across their lips.

[helen-with-an-a]

Will there be a second part of "Be The Best" where the girls help the reader. But at some point, the father comes and says that the reader needs to become even better, but the girls stand up for him and drive him away.

Or where the reader turns out to be a good person and tries to make friends with everyone, but it turns out to be awkward.

Hiiiii - so this is a little sadder than I anticipated but I quite like it. I might make a pt3 I'm not to sure - what do you guys think/if you have any reqs for it? Also please just imagine that there's like a foresty/woodsy type bit at Colney

Be the Best pt 2

AWFC x reader ; Leah Williamson x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Description: R has some self-realisation after trying to make friends

Word count: 4.6k

You had never felt so stupid in your life. Why? Why had you done that? Tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over, as you walked. You couldn’t let them fall. No emotion. The best don’t feel emotion.

It was lunch time, a time you usually spent eating alone before going on a walk around Colney, usually ending up in the gym. After much reassurance from Kim, you had finally worked up enough courage to approach some of the team. Kim had made it sound so simple – just walk up to them and ask if you could join. You had rehearsed it in your mind a dozen times, mentally preparing for every possible reaction.

But when you finally stood there, tray in hand, in front of the group of girls who seemed to belong to an entirely different world, everything went wrong. They were sitting in the corner of the canteen, their laughter and chatter like a bubble you had no idea how to penetrate. You were so sure you looked ridiculous – just standing there, awkward and unsure, as if you had no right to even be in their presence.

“Can I sit?” you grunted, the words leaving your mouth almost of their own accord. As soon as they were out, you regretted them. You kept your eyes glued to the tray in your hands, desperately avoiding the gazes you could feel boring into you. The food on your tray – the food that looked so nice when you picked it out, looked bland and unappetising now – suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world. Anything to avoid looking up, to avoid seeing their reactions.

The silence that followed was suffocating. It stretched on, a tangible force pressing down on you, making you feel smaller and smaller with each passing second. The confidence you had painstakingly built up with Kim's encouragement was slipping away, like sand through your fingers. You had never felt so out of place, so exposed, as you did in that moment, standing there waiting for a response that never came.

Finally, you risked a glance up and caught Kyra’s wide, terrified eyes staring back at you. Did you really scare her that much? The thought sent a jolt of anxiety through you. Were you that terrifying that a simple question had her so scared? Was she always this afraid of you? You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, feeling more awkward by the second.

Alessia and Lotte exchanged concerned glances, their silent communication only adding to your growing unease. You could see the tension in their faces, the way they seemed to be trying to figure out what to do with you, as if your mere presence was some kind of problem they had to solve. Vic, who had always seemed so confident and collected, visibly gulped, her nervousness painfully clear.

No one spoke. No one moved. The entire canteen seemed to have dropped into a wary silence, as if the whole room was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. It was like a switch had flipped, and suddenly you were the centre of attention. The air was thick with unease, the kind that made your skin prickle and your heart pound.

What the fuck were you doing? The question echoed in your mind, growing louder with each passing second. You couldn’t sit with them. You didn’t belong there, in their world, no matter how much you wanted to. The realisation hit you like a punch to the gut, and the embarrassment that followed was almost too much to bear. You don’t need to sit with them, you told yourself, trying to salvage what little dignity you had left.

And then, just as quickly as you had convinced yourself to approach, you mumbled something unintelligible – a mix between an apology and an excuse that even you couldn’t understand – and turned on your heel. The shame was like a weight on your back, driving you away from the table, away from the awkward silence that had frozen you in place.

You walked as quickly as you could without breaking into a run, your feet carrying you away. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel the burn of tears threatening to spill over, but you forced them back, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat.

You continued walking out of the canteen, your footsteps quick and unsteady, the tray of food abandoned on a random table near the door in your haste to get away. The clatter of the tray as it hit the table echoed in your ears, but you didn’t care. You just needed to escape. The walls of the canteen felt like they were closing in on you, the stares of the other students—real or imagined—burning into your back.

The gym. That’s what you would normally do to squash the feelings down. It was your sanctuary, the one place where everything made sense, where you could channel everything into something physical, something real. There was nothing like running until you felt like your legs were going to give out, or punching the bags hanging in the corner until your arms ached and your hands were bloody. Pain was something you could deal with; it was tangible, controllable. The emotions, though – they were a different beast entirely. The best didn’t feel emotions. You had told yourself that so many times it had become a mantra. Emotions made you weak, and you couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now, not ever.

But you would be easily found in the gym. It was the first place anyone would look, and you couldn’t bear the thought of someone finding you like this – sweaty, shaking, and teetering on the edge of a breakdown. You didn’t want to be found. You couldn’t let anyone see the cracks in the armour you’d worked so hard to build. Not now, not after what had just happened. You had embarrassed yourself in front of the team, made a fool of yourself by going against your instincts, by trying to reach out and connect when you knew better.

You needed to find somewhere to hide, somewhere you could lick your wounds in peace. The locker room was out of the question – too many people coming and going, too many chances for awkward questions and pitying looks. The thought of facing anyone right now was unbearable.

You found yourself heading for the back exit of the gym, the one that led out to the far side of the training grounds. It was quieter there, the paths less travelled, especially at this time of day. You pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool air, the breeze hitting your face like a slap. You bit your lip, the pain momentarily distracting you from the hurt of your stupidity.  The coolness of the air was a sharp contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside, and for a moment, it felt like you could finally breathe again.

The gravel crunched beneath your shoes, the sound oddly satisfying, grounding you in the present. You weren’t entirely sure where you were going, but you didn’t care. You just needed to keep moving, to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the people inside. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You bit your lip even harder, tasting iron on your tongue. The best don’t feel emotions. The best don’t need friends. The best train and work hard. The best practice until they physically drop. You didn’t need anyone else, didn’t need to put yourself in situations where you felt so exposed. So why had you allowed yourself to think, even for a moment, that this time might be different?

The girls’ faces flashed in your mind – Kyra’s wide, startled eyes, Alessia and Lotte’s concerned glances, Vic’s visible gulp. The sudden silence of the canteen echoed in your mind. They hadn’t known what to do with you, hadn’t known how to react, and that stung more than you wanted to admit. A solitary tear rolled down your cheek. Besides that day in the media room with Kim, you don’t remember the last time you cried.

Actually, that was a lie. You remember the exact time and place where you last cried. You were 10, you had just received the academy letter that you were to be their second-choice goalkeeper for the Under 12s. You had shown your mum, she had been so excited for you, beckoning your father over to have a look. He had told you it was first choice or nothing. If you weren’t going to be the best, then you shouldn’t even bother. That night, you cried yourself to sleep, clutching the letter so tightly that you woke up with paper cuts. You wanted to prove him wrong, to show him that you could be the best, but that tiny voice in your head, the one that echoed his words, made you doubt yourself. It made you wonder if you’d ever be good enough.

The sky had transitioned from a soft amber glow to a deepening indigo, the kind of blue that swallows the light whole. You had found a bench just off the path, hidden by a canopy of trees that whispered in the evening breeze. The bench was old, the wood splintered and weathered. It was a place where you could disappear, if only for a little while.

You had never missed training before. Not even when you were 18 and had pneumonia. You could still remember that week, the way your chest burned with every breath, your lungs heavy with fluid that rattled every time you inhaled. But you stayed bundled in layers, forcing your body through drills with single-minded determination. Your coach had asked if you were okay, concern flickering across his face, but you’d just nodded, pushing past the exhaustion and pain. You could barely breathe, but missing training wasn’t an option. Not then, and not now. Or at least, that’s what you’d always believed. The best doesn’t show weakness. But today was different. Today, you couldn’t find that strength. The drive that usually pushed you onto the pitch, no matter how tired or sick you were, had vanished. Instead, you felt drained, hollowed out by emotions you didn’t know how to handle.

You shivered slightly, a definite autumnal nip to the late summer evening. The long sleeve top you wore did little to prevent the cold from settling on your skin, but you welcomed the chill. It kept you grounded, made the swirling thoughts in your head a little less chaotic. The cold helped you think, or at least gave you something tangible to focus on when your emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

Your mind kept drifting back to Kyra. She had looked so genuinely scared of you. The memory of her wide, startled eyes made your stomach twist with guilt. You’d never seen her like that before – Kyra, who was always so confident, so full of life. She’d looked at you like you were a stranger; someone she didn’t recognise. And maybe, in that moment, you were. Maybe you didn’t recognise yourself either.

You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly as if the pressure could hold you together. The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves above you, and you closed your eyes, letting the sound wash over you. It was peaceful here, away from the noise and the people and the expectations. But the peace was deceptive, fragile. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever. Eventually, you’d have to go back, face the reality of your team. The cold crept deeper into your bones, but you didn’t move. You deserved this discomfort, this numbness.

A tear slipped down your cheek, followed by another. You wiped them away quickly, but more followed, and soon you were crying in earnest, silent sobs that shook your shoulders and left you gasping for breath. You hadn’t cried like this in years, hadn’t allowed yourself to. But now, alone in the dark, surrounded by nothing but trees and the fading light, you let the tears come.

It wasn’t just Kyra’s fear that haunted you, but the realization that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as strong as you thought. The thought was terrifying, a crack in the foundation you’d built your entire life on. If you weren’t the best, if you weren’t unbreakable, then what were you? Who were you?

The tears slowed eventually, leaving you drained and exhausted. You rested your head on your knees, staring blankly at the ground as the darkness settled in around you. The training session was definitely over by now, the team heading back to the locker room, wondering where you were. They’d ask questions tomorrow, they’d want to know why you weren’t there, and you didn’t have any answers to give them.

But for now, you stayed on the bench, hidden away from the world, trying to piece yourself back together. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever, but for a little while longer, you allowed yourself to be weak, to be human. The best doesn’t show weakness – those were the words you’d lived by for so long. You didn’t know how to live without them.

You heard footsteps approaching. Whoever it was, was moving wearily - each step slow and calculated, like trying to approach a frightened animal. Is that what they saw you as? A wounded creature that had to be handled with caution, a volatile presence they needed to tread carefully around to protect themselves? The thought stung more than it should have. You used to like having that barrier. That bubble of self-protection that kept you alive.

You kept your eyes fixed on the ground, not wanting to acknowledge whoever was coming. Maybe if you stayed still, they’d turn back, leave you to your thoughts. But the footsteps continued, growing closer until they finally stopped just a few feet away. You could feel the presence lingering there, the silence heavy between you.

“Hey,” a voice broke through the quiet, soft and hesitant. It was Leah. You didn’t need to look up to know it was her – her voice was unmistakable, that Milton Keynes accent audible even on a single syllable word. You didn’t need to be told why they had sent her to find you. She was your national captain, your club’s vice-captain. You had always respected her.

You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t really know what to say. You let the silence linger, stretching on to the point where Leah questioned if you even heard her. The silence hung between you, thick and heavy. Leah’s words were gentle, but they carried weight. “You missed training.” It was a simple statement of fact, but it felt like more – a subtle nudge, a reminder of the responsibility you’d momentarily abandoned. You expected her to follow it up with something more – maybe a reprimand, maybe an expectation that you explain yourself. But instead, Leah just sat there, her presence calm and steady.

You could feel her eyes on you, but you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. What could you possibly tell her that she didn’t already know? She had seen what happened in the canteen. She had seen your stupid attempt to make amends. She had seen everything.

But Leah didn’t push. She didn’t demand answers or try to fill the silence with empty words. Instead, she simply waited, giving you the space to speak when you were ready – or not, if that’s what you needed. It was one of the reasons you respected her so much. She understood that sometimes, silence spoke louder than words.

“You don’t have to explain,” Leah finally said, her tone soft, understanding. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all that matters.”

Her words caught you off guard. You’d expected some kind of judgment, some level of disappointment that you’d let the team down, but instead, there was just concern. Genuine concern, not just for the team, but for you. It was a foreign feeling; one you weren’t sure how to process.

“Kim told me that you were thinking of trying to start sitting with people at lunch,” she continued, her voice gentle but probing. There was no judgment in her words, just a simple observation. It was as if she was giving you an opening, a chance to share what was really going on inside your head. But even with the invitation, the words still felt tangled up inside you, too messy to untangle in front of someone else.

You shifted uncomfortably on the bench, the rough wood digging into your legs, grounding you in the present moment. It had seemed like such a simple idea at the time – a small step toward breaking down the walls you’d built around yourself, a way to prove to the team that you were trying, that you wanted to be a part of things. But now, in the cold light of Leah’s concern, it felt almost childish. What had you really expected? That one gesture would erase months of distance, that a seat at the table would magically make everything better?

“Am … am I a bully?” It was something that had been floating around your head all afternoon. No one looked that scared, that nervous of someone unless they had valid cause.

Leah’s eyes widened slightly at your question, and for a moment, she seemed taken aback. But she recovered quickly, her expression softening as she took in the vulnerability behind your words. She didn’t rush to answer, clearly understanding the weight of what you’d just asked.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice gentle but resolute. “You’re not a bully.”

You wanted to believe her, but the doubt still gnawed at you, clawing at the edges of your mind. “My dad’s a bully. And I act like him.”

Leah's expression shifted, her brows furrowing slightly as she processed your words. There was no immediate response, just a thoughtful silence that hung between you. You could see the wheels turning in her mind, the careful consideration she was giving to what you had just said.

“You’re not your dad,” Leah finally said, her voice steady and calm.

“But I act like him.” Your voice held no emotion. These were simple facts. At least in your mind. “He screams and shouts at me for the smallest thing. I shouted at Kyra in a training session. I asked if she was deaf or just stupid. I told her she shouldn’t think. I shout at everyone. I told Alessia she was a waste of money. I said to Laia that she was useless, and I couldn’t understand how she won the World Cup with her defensive skills. I said we were doing better without Laura during her first session back. I told Jen I was glad to see her go because we would make fewer stupid mistakes”

You weren’t proud of anything you said. Each accusation felt like a knife twisting in your chest. The realisation of the hurt you had inflicted was almost unbearable. You could see their faces in your mind – Kyra’s eyes wide and a little glossy with hurt, Alessia’s shoulders slumping, Laia’s frustration, and Jen’s quiet resignation. You knew you’d been mean, knew that all those little comments had chipped away at people’s confidence and self-worth. It was the technique your dad and old coaches had done to you. In order to be the best, you must be broken and rebuilt. Your dad had broken you a long time ago.

 Leah listened intently, her eyes never leaving yours as you laid out the fears that had been gnawing at you. Her eyes widened slightly as you listed the hurtful things you’d said. The gravity of your admissions was evident in the way her expression softened, shifting from surprise to deep concern. She took a moment before responding, her voice steady but compassionate.

“What do you think when you let a goal in?” The question took you by surprise. The question hung in the air, unexpected and almost jarring in its simplicity. For a moment, you were caught off guard, trying to piece together why Leah would ask something so seemingly unrelated.

“That I’m worthless. What’s the point in having a keeper if they can’t stop the goals, right?” You sniffed a little, thinking about all the self-deprecating thoughts that course through your mind at lightning speed if you let a goal in. You bit your lip, letting the familiar pain wash over you. 

Leah's eyes remained locked on yours, her gaze filled with a mix of concern and understanding. She took a moment to absorb your words before responding, her voice calm and measured. “Who told you that?” You blinked, looking at for her a brief second, confusion clouding your mind. “Who told you that you’re worthless if you let a goal in?”

“My … my dad, my old coaches. But everyone knows that goalkeeper’s who can’t keep clean sheets are useless," you laughed humourlessly. "I mean, look at our Champions League matches last season, we lost on penalties, that’s my fault. We came third in the league, I let too many goals in. We crash out of the FA cup because of a goal that I could’ve easily stopped. I let a goal in the Conti cup. All of them are my fault. I wasn’t good enough. And with England? I let the goal in in the World Cup, our Nations League losses were all my fault, goals that shouldn’t have been scored. I’m the reason we weren’t at the Olympics this year. We qualified for the Euros by the skin of our teeth – we lost to France and drew to Sweden on home soil.” It was the rhetoric that had been spewed to you all summer. Every day, you needed to be better, do better, be the best, you couldn’t make a mistake. Look at what mistakes had cost you.

Leah listened carefully. Yes, she knew you carried each loss personally, but she didn’t know you took it this badly. She could see the deep exhaustion in your bones, the deep circles under your eyes, the paleness in your skin. You looked like you hadn’t had a proper rest in years. Each statement you made was like a dagger, not only piercing through your own sense of self-worth but also hitting Leah in a place she hadn’t expected. The weight of your guilt and frustration was palpable, and it was clear how deeply you were affected by every perceived failure.

She could see the toll this relentless self-blame was taking on you. Leah had known about the pressure you faced, but hearing the full extent of your suffering was sobering. It was one thing to understand the high stakes of professional sports, but it was another to see someone so dedicated and talented struggle under the crushing burden of their own expectations. She was struck by how your relentless pursuit of perfection, driven by past experiences and harsh criticisms, had led you to this place of self-doubt. The emotional scars were clearer now, and Leah could see that your harshest critic wasn’t just your dad or your old coaches – it was yourself.

Leah’s heart ached for you. She remembered her own struggles, the pressure to perform and the fear of failure that often accompanied high-level competition. But what you were expressing went beyond that. It wasn’t just about the weight of a single match or a missed opportunity; it was about a pattern of self-destruction that had become ingrained, a relentless inner voice that constantly reminded you of every shortcoming.

“I’ve heard it all before,” you continued, your voice cracking as you went. “Every mistake, every goal that went in was my fault. If I don’t perform perfectly, then I’m useless. I’m supposed to be the last line of defence. What good is a goalkeeper that lets goals in? In order to be the best, you must be broken and rebuilt.” You sounded so lost, in so much pain. Yet you clearly believed every word you were saying.

Leah’s eyes softened even more as she listened to your words. The silence that followed your last statement was heavy, thick with unspoken emotions. Leah let it linger, allowing the gravity of your confession to settle between you.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, yet full of determination. "I don’t believe that," she said firmly. "I don’t believe that you have to be broken to be the best. And I don’t think anyone should make you feel that way."

You looked at her, an unfamiliar ache in your chest tightening as you tried to absorb what she was saying. "But I am broken," you whispered, the words almost choking you. "I’ve been broken so many times. I don’t even know who I am anymore, Leah. All I know is that I have to be perfect, or everything falls apart."

Leah shook her head, her expression resolute. "You’re not broken," she insisted. "You’re hurt. And there’s a difference. You’ve been hurt by people who should have supported you, people who should have built you up instead of tearing you down. But that doesn’t make you broken. It makes you human."

Your breath hitched as you processed her words. They were so different from the ones you had grown accustomed to hearing, the harsh criticisms and impossible expectations that had been drilled into you for years. Part of you wanted to reject them, to cling to the familiar pain because it was what you knew. But another part of you, a small, fragile part, wanted desperately to believe that Leah was right.

Leah reached out, placing a hand on your arm, her touch gentle and reassuring. "You’re not alone," she said softly. "We all make mistakes. We all have moments when we don’t perform the way we want to. But that doesn’t define us. You’re so much more than those moments. And you’re allowed to be human, to have bad days, to not be perfect all the time."

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, trying to maintain control. It was hard, though, with Leah looking at you like that, with so much compassion and understanding in her eyes. "What if I’m not good enough?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Leah moved over slightly, shuffling across the bench until she was almost touching you. "You are good enough," she said firmly. “We are a team. We help each other be the best. We rely on each other and push each other to be better. We can start slowly, there’s a team bonding next week. We’re going to the cinema and then out for a meal and drinks. I know you don’t usually come but how about you turn up. If you don’t like it or you want to go home, you can do – no questions asked.” You had never been to the cinema before. At least not that you can remember – maybe when you were a kid?

“Cinema … that sounds … nice.”

[leviathan-supersystem]

i know this is quite an open-ended question, so apologies in advance, but as a marxist-leninist what are your main issues with post-modernism/post-structuralism as a school of thought? from libs to anarchists, lots of (so-called) progressives/leftists seem to really enjoy it, but its reception is a far less positive among communists/marxists from what i gather. what are your thoughts on it, and on the work of people like foucault, deleuze, guattari, or even more recent ones like judith butler etc? once again sorry if this is too open-ended, but i really value your insight on politics and philosophy etc etc.

well, to be clear i do think there are some good critiques which have come out of the post-modernist camps, and consequently i would consider myself more of a neo-modernist than a classical modernist, as i do think mdernism as a concept needs to be updated in response to post-modernist critiques.

at it's best, post-modernism offers genuinely useful critiques of the limits of our ability to know things, genuine good points about the inherently fuzzy and indefinable boundaries of any system of categories that human beings could ever create.

at it's worst, post-modernism rejects the very notion that there's a material world that we can understand, and rejects the very notion of categories as a whole. once it crosses the boundary into this sort of solipsism is utterly useless to me.

ultimately once post-modernism crosses the boundary into this sort of solipsism- which it often does- it becomes completely incompatible with marxism, which is fundamentally based on the notion that there is a material world and we can learn things about it. no, we can never know things with 100% certainty, but we can know with better than 0% certainty

i really love deleuze and guattari's Capitalism and Schizophrenia, but ultimately i think it's more of a piece of poetry than a piece of real scientific theory. and i do believe, fundamentally, that the approach to analyzing capitalism must be a scientific one.

i'm not very fond of foucault at all, because frankly i'm a bit of a panopticon apologist. these sorts of "panopticons" are just part of living in a group with other people, and while i certainly think there are points to be made about how these sort of systems of sousveilance need to be regulated in order for them to not be excessive and harmful, but ultimately these sorts of regulations on those systems are themselves enforced by social systems of sousveilance. so for example, the idea of taking pictures of people in public and posting them online, i agree that there should be social conventions discouraging that behavior- but inevitably these social conventions are enforced through similar "panopticon" style social systems- that when someone sees someone posting a creepshot online, the observers collectively disincentivize that behavior, tell them "dude don't take pictures of random people in public and post them online to talk shit about them you dick" etc. anyways, that's why i don't think the foucaultian persective on "panopticons" is particularly useful though i agree that obviously those social systems exist.

[sun4r1nnity]

"samu,"

osamu rolls his eyes the moment you call out his name, while a grin spreads across your face as you throw yourself on the couch next to him. he knows your intentions and what you're about to say, because you've been pestering him about it for days. that damn dyson hair dryer.

osamu didnt think that he'd be one of the victims of what people call the equivalent of ps5 to women. hell, the social media really has a bad influence on his wife. last time something like this happened is when the internet going crazy about those stanley cups, and it rubbed off on you too unfortunately. "sooo... i've been thinking..." you say, trailing off as you trace circles on osamu's chest. "thinkin' about what, exactly?" he inquires, already aware of the unspoken conclusion in your words.

"you know, maybe... if we should get a hair dryer. i mean, wouldnt our life be better with it? like, its a beneficial stuff," you say, avoiding eye contact with osamu, making him chuckles at your act. "enlighten me," he prompts, with a smirk on his face as he leans back on the couch and rests his head on his hands. he felt amused seeing that stupidly cute pout on your face as he waits for you to whine about that hair dryer you've been wanting.

unbeknownst to you, osamu would buy you the whole world if he can. he'd get you anything you wanted, because he gets to see you happy and show his love to you by spoiling you. so, it quite goes unnoticed when a notification pops up on his phone screen, informing that the dyson hair dryer he ordered few days ago will be delivered today.

[mizu0xox0]

Fei Xiao and Ruan Mei x reader with Oshi No Ko star eyes

[Both characters are written as separate hcs, might be OOC]

🦊Fei Xiao

-Shes definitely fascinated by how unique your eyes look, I mean sure some Xianzhou folks have unique eye colors but your eyes that look like they hold the galaxy in them now that's something she could stare into daily

-Fei Xiao will definitely introduce you to Jiaoqiu and Moze. And you bet she'll always bring up how beautiful your eyes are well everything about you is beautiful but your eyes stand out the most

-Fei Xiao will do anything to see your eyes light up. Compliment you? Of course she doesn't mind. Train with you? She is on her way. Maybe even sparring with her? Gladly plus she gets the bonus of seeing the passion burning in your eyes

-Speaking about compliments I feel like Fei Xiao would say something along the lines of "You're my world and I mean it quite literally you have a whole galaxy in your eyes."

-This will get worse when she is drunk and her words start to slur. There may even be occurrences where either Jing Yuan, Jiaoqiu or Moze may have to witness such occurrences as they bring her back to your shared house and see Fei Xiao saying extremely cheesy compliments about you which makes the average person cringe

-All in all sure your eyes are unique but Fei Xiao finds all of your unique

🧬Ruan Mei:

-As someone who wishes to understand lifeforms well she's seen many eyes of different lifeforms but no lifeform has eyes as interesting as you

-She tries to recreate your eyes with her experiments such as the cat cakes but the cat cakes eyes just aren't like yours a whole galaxy

-If you ever want that cat cake she'll gladly let you take it since well its a mini you sort of

-Whenever she spends time locked up in her lab and needs some new inspiration she may just go to you and look at your eyes. Something about your eyes may give her ideas. Maybe the various sparkles and twinkles in them.

-Ruan Mei who in her journey of understanding lifeforms doesn't seem to grasp the understanding of your eyes and why she gets lost in those eyes for yours. It's as if your eyes hold the whole galaxy in them that she could get lost it

-Every once in a while she may be doing some embroidery work and may embroider your eye color in her work after all it is quite a sight

-She will have difficulty expressing her emotions and compliments are rare from her but you can tell she's definitely somewhere between fascinated and amazed by your eyes since she looks a little more intent into your eyes as compared to when she's with other people. But be patient with her as time goes on who knows.

Note: Thank you for reading! I finally decided to write about two of my favorite female characters in HSR, I really love Ruan Mei a lot esp since her release. Really wishing that she'll achieve her goal of becoming an aeon. Hopefully sometime in the future I'll have a firmer grasp on these two characters and write more for them.

[nanamincreampie]

Frat Boy Gojo

Gojo Satoru x Black plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Cocky Gojo catching feelings, mildly spicy towards the end

(part 2)

Fratboy Gojo who first sat next to you in business class because all the other seats were taken, and you didn’t think much of it at first. He’d been in the same class for weeks now, always loud and joking around with Suguru, but the moment he sits beside you, his energy shifts. He’s quieter, trying to play it cool while glancing at you from the corner of his eye, not wanting to seem obvious.

Fratboy Gojo who strikes up casual conversation between lectures, flashing you that dazzling smile of his. “So, we’ve been in this class together for a minute, but I never caught your name.” You introduce yourself, and he repeats it under his breath like he’s savoring it. From then on, he makes sure to say your name every chance he gets, loving the way it rolls off his tongue.

Fratboy Gojo who tries so hard to play it cool, denying to himself that he’s into you. You’re different from the usual girls he’s used to hanging around with. You’ve got this confidence, this fire in you that keeps pulling him in, but he brushes it off. After all, you’re both focused on school, and besides, he’s Gojo Satoru, he’s not supposed to catch feelings. Or so he tells himself.

Fratboy Gojo who starts showing up earlier to class just to get the seat next to you. He’ll lean back in his chair with his legs sprawled out, acting nonchalant, but every time you talk, his eyes are locked on you. He loves your voice, the way you speak your mind, and he finds himself laughing a little too hard at your jokes, even when they’re at his expense.

Fratboy Gojo who sees you at one of his frat’s parties after weeks of trying to suppress how he feels. He’s standing by the keg with Suguru, laughing and joking around, but the second you walk in, his entire world shifts. You’re wearing a tight bodycon dress that clings to every curve of your body, and Gojo's gaze immediately locks onto you. The dress hugs your plump ass, accentuating its roundness with a perfect fit that leaves little to the imagination. His eyes trail over the smooth curve of your thighs, which are highlighted by the dress, and the way they lead up to your hips creates a breathtaking silhouette.

Fratboy Gojo who can’t help but admire the way your dress showcases your chest, which is beautifully full and confidently on display. The fabric stretches just enough to reveal the gentle swell of your cleavage, drawing his attention. The way your tummy peeks out from under the dress, soft and inviting, adds to the irresistible allure of your figure. The whole look is completed by your knotless braids, which cascade down your back in a smooth, effortless flow. They frame your face and add a touch of elegance to your already captivating appearance.

Fratboy Gojo who’s never seen you like this before so confident, sexy, and absolutely owning the room. The combination of your curves and the way you carry yourself makes it clear that you’re in control, and for the first time, Gojo is at a loss for words. His mouth goes dry, and he finds himself staring, unable to tear his eyes away from the stunning vision you present.

Fratboy Gojo who can’t take his eyes off you as you make your way through the crowd, your hips swaying with every step. He’s completely stunned, his usual cocky demeanor slipping as he stares at you, his jaw slightly slack. Suguru notices immediately and nudges him, laughing. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, man. What’s got you so shook?”

Fratboy Gojo who ignores Suguru’s teasing, determined not to let this moment slip by. He pushes off the wall, weaving through the crowd with that signature confidence of his, but on the inside, he’s all nerves. The closer he gets to you, the faster his heart beats, and when he finally reaches you, his smirk is back in place, but there’s something softer in his eyes. “Didn’t expect to see you here, babe. You look... incredible.”

Fratboy Gojo who doesn’t even bother with small talk. He’s been waiting for this moment for weeks, so he gets straight to the point. “You wanna dance?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement because he’s already holding out his hand, knowing you won’t say no. And when you take it, his fingers wrap around yours, sending a jolt of electricity through his veins.

Fratboy Gojo who leads you to the dance floor, pulling you close with his hands settling on your waist, thumbs brushing the fabric of your dress. He can’t help but let his eyes roam, appreciating every curve, every dip of your body as you move together. The music is loud, but all he can focus on is the way you feel against him, soft and warm, fitting perfectly in his arms.

Fratboy Gojo who leans in close as the bass thumps around you, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve been trying to keep my cool around you,” he admits, his voice low and husky, “but you’re making it real hard tonight.” His words are laced with a playful edge, but there’s something genuine underneath, something that tells you this isn’t just another one of his games.

Fratboy Gojo who as the dance nears its end, feels the heat between you both reaching its peak. His hands slide lower, drawing you even closer, and as the music slows, he can’t resist any longer. He tilts your chin up gently, his eyes locked onto yours, and in a moment of electrifying tension, he leans in and captures your lips with his. The kiss is passionate, filled with the longing he’s been hiding, and as it deepens, you can feel the intensity of his feelings. The world around you fades away, leaving only the heat of his kiss and the rhythm of your hearts beating in sync.

Fratboy Gojo who, for the rest of the night, doesn’t leave your side. Whether you’re dancing, grabbing drinks, or just talking, he’s there, his presence magnetic. He’s not usually one to stick with one person at a party, but with you, it’s different. He’s captivated, and for once, he’s not hiding it.

Fratboy Gojo who by the end of the night, can’t resist teasing you one last time as you’re about to leave. “You should come to more of these parties. You definitely made this one worth remembering.” He winks, but there’s something in his eyes that says he’s hoping you’ll stick around because the truth is, he’s not ready to let you go just yet.

[funkyplantguy]

established relationship scarian where scar finds A Creature of some sort (dealer's choice) and starts in on the whole "Can we keep it?? 🥺🥺" routine to grian

i was originally going to go with a cat, then a baby warden (listen idk) then an ACTUAL baby...then landed on this (and giggled and kicked my feet the entire time as i wrote it). hope you enjoy :D

scar: g scar: grain scar: grian scar: light of my life scar: where are you? scar: i have gift grian: fishing dock scar: shoulda guessed scar: be there soon <3

grian stretched, quietly groaning to himself as his back (and wings) crackled in delight at the movement, tired of the endless hunching they’d endured over the past several hours. a gift from scar (especially an unexpected one) was sure to be…interesting. they’d been together long enough that scar knew what grian liked, of course…but sometimes…the “gifts” his partner would bring him would be more for scar’s own personal amusement than anything else.

not that he really minded, of course. not when that meant getting to see scar light up like a kid on christmas. scar was always so full of life - always giggling over something or other - and it just reminded grian of why he’d fallen in love with him in the first place. and honestly, that was gift enough for him.

despite all of that, he wasn’t quite expecting scar to bring him something...alive.

grian heard the chirping from the small bundle in scar’s arms before the man had even landed, and couldn’t help the inquisitive trill that forced its way out of him in response. and that, of course, set scar off - mimicking the noise with his own (very human) vocal cords (which only served to produce a melody akin to being strangled). he stared at grian with wide eyes as he touched down, and grian felt his cheeks burn under his gaze.

“g! i’ve never heard you make that noise before - that was so cute, do it again!”

“no,” grian chirped back, then pressed his hand against his mouth as scar laughed in delight. “scar - what is that?”

“it’s a baby!” scar responded, moving closer and tilting the bundle in his arms towards the avian. “look - it’s a little you!”

grian uncovered his mouth to retort - he very much doubted that scar had somehow found a baby avian wandering around hermitcraft - but another quiet chirp caught his attention, and he found himself leaning forward to peer over scar’s arms. and there, nestled in a pile of soft, brown blanket, was the ugliest baby parrot grian had ever seen in his life. and yet..and yet…

grian didn’t even realize that he was whistling until the baby returned his birdsong, eager little chirps and gurgles spilling out of its little fleshy beak. it tilted its head up at grian, blinking, and grian offered up a trembling finger into the makeshift nest. the chick nuzzled against it, purring softly, and something in grian’s heart felt like it might burst. he raised his face to his partner, and found scar’s gaze transfixed - but not on the parrot in his arms, but him. their eyes locked, and scar offered him a smile - something soft and warm, something that made grian want to kiss him more than anything in the world.

“can we keep it?” he whispered, and grian let out a short (wet) laugh.

“i…scar, where…where did you even find it? it’s so little…i can’t imagine its mama would have been far; she’s probably worried sick…do you really want to take the little guy from his mama?”

scar’s lower lip wobbled (and grian felt like he might be the worst person in the entire world for it).

“he didn’t have a mama! i sat and watched and waited for hours, gri, and nobody came for him…he was just all alone, on a branch in the jungle, and i got worried that something was going to come along and eat him! and…well…i figured you’d know how to take care of him. given that you’re…y’know.”

he gestured toward grian’s colorful wings with one hand, and grian’s feathers rippled obediently in show for his lover. from scar’s arms, the tiny bird chirped again, raising its little head and struggling to flap its wings in the same way grian had fluttered his. scar looked down to the parrot, then up to grian, eyes wide and sparkling as he jutted out his lower lip.

“see! he agrees! he wants you to be his new mama!”

(and if grian’s heart fluttered in his chest at the suggestion of being a mother, that was no one's business but his own. that was a topic to be discussed later - much later, in the warmth of each other’s arms and the shield the darkness their room offered for grian's vulnerability)

“we could name him…um…jeffrey!”

“scar - we are not naming our son jeffrey.”

“our son???!??” scar parroted back, jerking his head up from where he had dipped it to stare down at the chick in his arms. “our son??? so…we can keep him? really? you mean it?”

“yes, scar. i mean it,” grian responded, smiling softly at the hopeful peep from the newest member of their little family. “we can keep him.”

(and the way scar pulled him into a kiss, then, was the greatest gift of all)

[devil-in-hiding]

so i got amazing news and i can breathe fucking easy now

thank y’all for being a place for me to escape to. it means the god damn world. I’m not going to go into details, it’s a sensitive topic for me and it’s an on going situation but i’m seeing the end of the tunnel.

This year has been one of the worst years of my life and after 2020-2021, i didn’t think that would be possible. The only good thing that has happened is my son, he has truly been the life raft keeping me afloat because even on the days i don’t want to get out of bed for myself, i do it for him.

Creating this blog has given me a place to go and be fucking insane, for the last 14 months i have been in my house, and honestly long before that, before my son was born i was my grandmothers caretaker and i lost her in january of this year, and ive lived with my granny my whole life and i took care of her when her state started declining in 2020.

Yall have given me a place that i can come to and feel accepted and like yall actually enjoy my company even if its through a screen, yeah its parasocial but i truly do not have a single person in my corner in my life right now besides my parents, ive had more conversations on this hellsite than i have had in person in ages and thats kinda sad but thats my reality right now

this post is a fucking mess but i’m literally sobbing into my moms spider-man squishmellow right now so it shows my state of mind

just

thank yall for giving me a place to escape to during such a crap time.

it means the world

[not-goldy]

They didn't want to go home and got emotional cause the trips were over and couldn't even cheer themselves up about having to go back to Seoul. And some of you think these men are dating your favs? Wake the hell up. Jikook are JOKERS. The Joke is on you. All of JK's 30 women partners waiting at home, Tae and Rm, whoever the hell y'all have him paired with. He didn't want to go home to them. Jimin said yeah no, forget Saeon, Suga, Rm, Taemin, deluded actresses, Tae, whoever the hell y'all have him with, he don't want to go home to none of them either. They literally didn't want to go home to none of these people and spend the last few days with them. They wanted to stay together in their Japan bubble. Are you seeing this? Are you hearing them? Hello are the lights on? Is anyone there? They had a few days to go before enlisting and they said can we just stay here & then go enlist together. Now chew on that, then choke on it.

And not JK asking why he isn't in Jin's dream with Jimin cause he's going with Jimin. He said its both of us going together, don't none of you ever forget it.

Hey as the first Jungkook woman to the 30 I can tell you it's not real and it's all in our heads 🤧

Jungkook don't lie on his feelings. If there's anything in this world you can trust its Jungkook's feelings. He is not a faker, say whatever you want about him. And I'm glad people are catching on. I remember someone telling years ago that had it not been from my perspective they woukd never have assumed Kook to be the assertive type. And I was so stunned like how is it not obvious 💀

Flash forward several years later now we are here with the whole world acknowledging this fact.

And I believe him when he says he wants to go with Jimin be with Jimin and my God the pain he covers with anger when he feels emotionally distanced from Jimin.

You guys don't understand the things I'm willing to do to keep Jimin for him😔

Jimin is his everything 😭😭😭😭😭

If I could buy Jimin I would buy him for Jungkook 😭

I love seeing him happy and he's a whole other level of happy when he is around Jimin😭😭😭😭😭

You guys I can't take this anymore 😭😭😭😭😭

My heartu😭😭😭😭😭😭

Bless you Jikook bless every cell in your body😭💜

[torchstelechos]

sometimes i think about the scene where Siffrin has a momentary breakdown over the Universe watching and clapping and not doing anything to help, to lead, and i wonder about an interpretation where the Universe is helping, is leading, is telling them what to do. where the Universe is favoring one of the two people from the Country like the King calls out. its us, the Player, the ones that 'create' their universe in a sense by installing and playing the game and leading Siffrin around through it

i wonder if it'd make it better or worse for him in that moment if they could look through that glass window to the stars above and see a glimpse of how helpless we, the Universe, were in that moment too, trying to guide him and failing just as much as everyone else

do you get me. does this make any sense.

Okay Bell, you do not fucking get how much this means to me. I have been on the theory of “the universe is actually the players” since I started wandering about this fandom. I do think ALL the players are part of the universe, but are not the universe as a whole. Like, one player is one star and yes, they are part of the overall universe, but there are more stars to see in the same universe so they aren't the universe specifically. My reasoning for this is actually part of how I see Loop’s wish, and thus I get to discuss how I think wishcraft works alongside Loop’s wish and how it affected the timeline. >:3c 

First, I will be using a general assumption of 1.) The looping only affected Vaugarde like The King’s “curse” 2.) There is only one Timeline and 3.) The theory Path of Least resistance (will be explained in conjunction with wishcraft).

As I have mentioned in a previous post I do think that Siffrin’s wish piggybacked off the King’s wish and used it as a blueprint for how far the Timecraft went, which meant that it only turned back the time of Vaugarde. The King says, when asked about wishcraft: 

He says that the country is skipping, stopping, rewinding, restarting, and how that must look from the outside. Which! I would like to point out that the king is NOT a reliable source of information because the King will lie to get you to lower your guard, however! It’s corroborated by the change god, even if they don't implicitly state it, during the Who’s on the Phone event they say: 

“Dormont, repeating! Dormont, Unchanging! Stagnating!” + “In this bubble, where everything stays the exact same…” The Change god also acknowledges that the extent of Timecraft is smaller than the whole world and specifies Dormont, which is the last place affected by the Time Curse (and thus the last place to change in all of Vaugarde). I would take this to mean that the whole world is still going on while Vaugarde is, well, glitching like a DVD with scratches. 

Next, which I think a lot of people tend to skip over, is that there is only one timeline! This is confirmed by Insertdisc5 (Adrienne), on Tumblr on their ISAT spoiler Q&A: 

Which has such interesting implications, but it does help explain something that I want to connect with the third assumption!

Now! The path of least resistance theory! Craft is an energy based magic, which uses the users energy unless powered by an outside force (however it appears to still take energy to direct the craft). This means that it has rules and if I had to guess, is very similar to electricity. Electricity doesn’t actually only go down one path when we apply this theory, instead it has an inverse in output depending on the resistance of the path. So if one path has less resistance then it will have more energy go down that path with more output, if the other has more resistance than that path will have less output/energy. We can apply this to wishcraft and how it affected the outcome of the two wishes that directly went against each other, the Kings and Siffrin’s wishes. Since Siffrin had a lot of energy behind his wish and the king less, Siffrin’s wish went above the King’s own in regards to who ended up with their wish “granted.” (the output was greater due to the fact it was less resistant to the whole of Vaugarde’s wish + Loop’s wish)

So, with all this written out, how do we the Players come into this? :3c well… We are a self contained paradox wish! Siffrin’s initial wish was to (insert one of the initial options) and “You want to stay with them!” which is the wish that caused the Timecraft ability for Timelooping (if I wanted to be pedantic I would actually say Siffrin can Travel time and isn't looping but that's a whole ass other post). This wish DID NOT bring us to the loops nor did it give Siffrin a guide, it was just a wish made to stay with people already in this timeline/universe. This made it impossible for outside help as it was VERY specific to only this universe, “stay with them.” But when Siffrin gave up, they made a secondary wish, 

(Loop: For someone… Anyone, to help me!!!)

This wish let us, The Players, directly able to interact with ISAT and SAAP. As they reached out into the universe and called for help, the Universe answered by letting outside help interact with timeline by guiding the new Siffrin. We are only able to help out by Loop making this wish! But, now, how does that make us a self contained paradox wish? Well… Thats because in order for the wish to happen, we needed to help Loop make the wish in the first place! By playing the SAAP, we helped Loop get to a position in which they made the wish which allowed us to help them which allowed them to make the wish etc etc. 

Thus we the players are now able to continue helping out when the timeline goes forward into ISAT, alongside Loop who’s wish allowed for a second try (a Start again if you will). 

The reason I also added the other information is because I think its important to remember that craft takes energy, and what Loop says about their wish is that they “destroyed” themself rather than “destroy the world” which… I think it means that Loop basically blew up like the Big Bang rather than become a Black Hole like Siffrin did. This “restarted” the timeline as a whole rather than just Vaugarde as we can see differences in Loop’s timeline and Siffrin’s, and if they’re the same timeline why are there such big differences? Well, yeah,,, Loop remade the entirety of the timeline rather than just Vaugarde… Oops! Big Bang, yaknow? Its still a singular Timeline, it’s just that it restarted the timeline’s progress pretty far back as a whole rather than specific segments. Also, Loop doesnt appear to help until after the initial ISAT wish, so we can just assume that the Universe plucked them from their wish making directly into this timeline section. 

As for why I added the whole Path of Least Resistance Theory for wishcraft… that’s cause Siffrin having Loop’s wish actually helped guide Vaugarde’s wishes into an easier path which allowed them beat the King easier <3. Without Loop’s wish, it would have been impossible for Siffrin to actually progress and get out of the loops alive. Lol. ANYWAY, this is all to say, I do think the Universe is a separate entity to the Players BUT by virtue of how the Players interact with Siffrin I would say we are part of the universe via proxy measures. :3c

This really got away from me,,, hope this is all good and understandable I had to use a google doc to write this all out,,,,

[ibunyang]

pirate au go brr. sorry quick lore drop about this au

so it starts with moleswift(DUH...) as pirates they were first mate and his captain (swifts) captain, they were probs looking for something to make them immortal idk fountain of youth pirates of the Caribbean core, they find it they drink from the fountain and mike dies almost instantly compared to norton and he has to get traumatized to see him die in his arms

Norton realizes he is immortal under the full moon like he's full skelly under the light, so he's just actually a dead man walking. Mike's dead tho but he gets another form of immortality (constant reincarnation)

Anyway, norton and every iteration of Mike throughout 500 years

< soul and sparrow - i think this was his ronald of ness era where he was still trying to hide the fact he was immortal so he kept changing his identity, the first ever time he met another mike that found in a barrel at like 19 years old.. maybe idk, sparrow grew part of his Golden Rose crew, during the whole time… and mike looked up to him as his captain.. until smth more… Ronald projected swifts the most on sparrow, and honestly ended up having to leave him when sparrow was realizing that norton wasnt aging at all since they met, he had to leave him bc he was having an existential crisis about being immortal and not aging at all anymore no matter how he tried to hide or ignore it, so he left sparrow (and the crew, basically fakes his own death.) this is when he just embraces his immortality at this point, after being kind of a recluse for a while

< cocoa and soul - maybe 100 years after sparrow, and hes given up trying to fake his identity, he has the face paint and everything, hes mostly known as soul now.. cocoa is the owner of an inn and he meets him every time he docks at his towns port, hes nice to him kind.. much softer than sparrow or swifts, but still as cocky and confident in himself (he notes that this mike smokes) cocoa lets him stay over whenever he wants to (hes trying not to get attached to this mike , so hes thankful for the fact that hes not a pirate or a sailor, just someone he can come home to any time, his light house per say.) he didnt have to do a painful goodbye with him, just a letter and the occasional sack of gold and jewels to spoil his favorite chef.

<pomegranate mike, and soul honestly pomegranate was probably part of a traveling merchant boat that got destroyed at sea, luckily souls crew was around to fish them out of the water, this mike tho wasnt interested in anything that he had to offer preferring the life of being free with his guild at sea or anywhere, he loved to entertain but staying with soul probably felt like a cage. he probably asked soul to take them to the nearest port, hes was a nice equally fun mike, but wasnt interested or too scared to commit to soul. (Wahh da one that got away) soul respects him, of course, but it cant be denied he was hurt over this. and he grew a little bitter because of it.

<cunning and soul.. - at this point 300 years passed already…pomegranate was the last mike he found and he didn't stay with him long and let him go without fighting because thats mikes choice man WHATEVER anyway, this is nortons sad emo boy era or as i like calling it weezer norton era. he became relentless, ruthless and his name was known through the seas, hes travelled the world at this point and his immortality has never failed him yet. he learned magic from patricia at one point, and now he has a crew of ghosts he necromanced into life to man his ship,- really kicking up the visuals in my head here but he has a literal ghost ship, its a physical ship but everyone on board is probably a ghost or a zombie (WHATEVERR MY AU MY WORLD BUILDING I SAY THEY EXIST.) anyway (onepiece reference i guess) when he saw cunning in one of the meetings for idk pirates or smth, tagging along with hollow (also a pirate bitch on his ass for the past years hes annoying as hell), he ws down right pISSED. (he hasnt seen a single mike reincarnation in 300 years, hes tried sleeping around getting over him, but NOTHING really compares to his soulmate.)

BUT anyway basically, in this au Hollow is looking for Alice (eternity whatever) and Soul knows where she is so he makes a bargain, he'll give Hollow Alice in exchange he gives him of of his most trusted men. (Points at cunning.) IF he gives him Alice in a pretty little bow for him, he can have cunning for himself.

Cunning is like "pft. Yeah right. You're not gonna find her before we do." And soul is just smiling (horny depressed and has been blue balled for years at this point, u don't know what this guy can do) so he just smiles.

Hollow, surprisingly agrees. "OKAY if u find her before we do I'll give my end of the bargain." Cunning is a little upset at this, but he's determined he'll find Alice before soul. (eermmm)

Soul wasn't lying about knowing where Alice was tho, so he kidnaps her and takes her to hollow. Like a sack of potatoes.

"Gimme gimme." smth like that and mike is so distraught about this he's crying, verbatim; " I don't want to be that bag of bones property- I'm not property " but he's already at souls shoulder and he's kicking and screaming. He's such a bitch in this au I LOVEE BITCH ASS CUNNING WHINEY WHORE. nortons kind of an ass here and hes sort of using him as a way to distress the last 300 years away. Before he spoils him with everything hes gotten (for mike.)

So it's just rough hostage core treatment for the first couple of months until he starts using the money he's been hoarding on mike to spoil him.

But anyway, after cunning dies in idk when, 🤷‍♂️anyway when he dies kay the next one and final one is quinlan, he's an immortal vamp/witch and hes the only mike who remembers every mike reincarnations memories, he knows that soul is out there looking for him but he doesn't care about that rn, in this life he's looking for his mom, and ignoring souls horny whale calling in the back of his mind until they inevitably cross paths BEC they are SOULLMATESS AUGRGRHSHAHAGGZ In my head the way they meet went like this "Mole."

soul looking at him in surprise bec ever since someone misheard his name being soul and he grew tired of correcting people its mole, he hasn't heard that name in years. he wasn't even sure if this was his Mike, he doesn't have the blue eyes he used to have they were more green/gold… and each mike he's met always had swifts eyes. So thats why he's like emo. Do u get it anyway, this is their reunion in the middle of an pub that cocoa bean used to run, they standing in front of each other and quin almost looks too relaxed when their EYEESS MEEETTT FUCKKK anyway, "Swift?" and theres just that LOOK thats unmistakably mikes on his face that mole just couldnt help but take him into his arms like a the sad depressed man he is. They kiss and they start sailing together forever until they turn to ashes.

THE ENDD

[hajimesh]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐skyfall. suguru geto

part two. sunset (him)

⥅word c. 2,656

⥅warnings. suguru's pov, heavy angst, main character death, mentions of drinking and smoking, depressed suguru, hurt/comfort (?)

𝄢♭turning page ‐ sleeping at last / let her go ‐ passenger

Suguru will never forget the morning you came back to him. He distinctly remembers it was right after a slow night at the bar, the air felt chiller than usual, and the streets were too quiet. He couldn’t wait to get home, already dreaming of his bed and the leftover pizza from two nights ago.

But the sleep vanished as soon as he saw you sitting by the window.

At first, he thought someone had broken into his place until he realized it was you, which scared him even more than the thought of a thief. As soon as he heard your voice, it was as if he felt everything and nothing all at once—it also made him realize he had started to forget the sound of it without noticing.

It was the sight of your cheeky smile, the little wave as you teased him like you used to, that got him out of his stupor. Suddenly, he was on a high, something he hadn’t felt in months.

Gone was the tiredness from working all night as he ran up the stairs to the apartment while his heart beat wildly against his rib cage. However, nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight that awaited him: sitting by the window, the curtains blew behind you as the sky shone with pinks and lilacs, clouds that looked like cotton floating in it. But even such beautiful scenery couldn’t compare to the sight of you, your beauty or the gentle smile on your face.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he felt his soul come back to his body as soon as he had you in his arms. The feel of your fingers carding through his hair immediately relaxed him, your voice soothing the dull pain that had settled deep in his heart.

He feared his heart would not make it through that morning, your presence and laugh — god, how he had missed your laugh — more than enough of a threat to his battered heart. 

That morning, Suguru Geto came back to life after living like a zombie for three months without you, the pain pushed to the back of his mind as he only focused on loving you.

—

He often wondered if he should quit his job, it messed up with his sleeping schedule and mood. But that bar was where he first met you, he still remembered how you walked up to him to order a round of drinks for your friends, and by the end of the night you had left right after saving your number in his phone.

Somehow, it felt wrong to leave a place that held such beautiful memories.

“You’ll be late for work,” he heard you say, light kisses covering his face as they traveled from his lips to his jaw before focusing on his cheeks.

He could tell it was dark outside, which meant that yes, he was most definitely running late. But he was a prisoner of your kisses, he would be out of his mind to push you away.

“Shower with me.”

Suguru was enraptured the whole time, watching the water dripping down your body as you sang each song that played from the speaker you had in the bathroom. The only thing that could stop you were his lips, kissing you nonstop until he had to physically hold you so you wouldn't fall to your knees. 

At that moment, he felt like he fell in love with you all over again.

He really didn't want to leave, but if you were there with him, then it meant that everything was back to normal. It made sense, right?

“See you at sunrise!”

And when he saw you by the window the next day, and the day after that, suddenly he was looking forward to each morning, hoping to see you sitting by the window where you belonged. 

The world could end tomorrow, and he wouldn’t care. As long as he had you by his side, nothing could ruin his happiness.

The rush hour was at its peak, college kids flooding the small bar on a Friday night—finals were over, so Suguru kind of expected it. After all, it was something he used to do just a few years ago.

He worked as fast as he could, lining up the shot glasses and filling them with liquor so Satoru could take them to the right table. It had become part of their routine, both men realizing that they worked well together after two days of being on the same shift.

Satoru placed his elbows on the counter and leaned forward, squinted eyes staring suspiciously at Suguru.

“You seem… livelier,” he paused, “chirpier?”

Shrugging, Suguru continued pouring drinks, “why wouldn’t I be?”

Still looking at him weirdly, Satoru dropped the subject once the raven-haired handed him another round of drinks, turning on his heel and continuing to work—he could always ask him later.

Meanwhile, Suguru’s mind strayed to your conversation from earlier that day. It had been two weeks since you were back, and it was impossible to get you out of his mind. Before he could stop it, he was smiling at the memory, his heart fluttered at the thought of spending all of your weekends cuddling and watching movies. He hoped that one day, a little version of you both could join the tradition.

At that point, he couldn’t hide his smile.

With a push of his hips, Satoru tried to snap him out of his daydream, signaling with his head to the girl that stood in front of him. 

Suguru stared at her, she seemed familiar, but it wasn’t until she reminded him of her name that he remembered who she was: an old classmate from high school. They had dated briefly during their senior year before he met you.

“I haven't seen you since we graduated,” she smiled at him, “I never thought I would find you here of all places!”

The atmosphere felt awkward, it was as if an elephant sat in the room and everyone could see it but him. He didn’t like that feeling one bit.

“Yeah, I work here.”

The girl hummed and shot Satoru a polite smile, her long nails tapping loudly against the granite.

“I-I was actually wondering if,” she paused, looking bashful as she switched her weight from one heel to the other, “we could go for a cup of coffee one of these days? You know, like, to catch up?”  

Suguru instantly tensed up, “catch up?”

“Yeah! Uhm… like a date?”

He never liked it when people put him on the spot, both Satoru’s and the girl’s eyes set on him as they waited for his answer.

“Sorry, but I have a girlfriend,” he offered her an awkward smile.

Satoru sighed dramatically, wrapping an arm around Suguru’s shoulders and pulling him against his side.

“I don't think she’ll mind,” he winked at Suguru before turning to look at the confused girl, “he’d love to go on a date with you!”

Pushing him away, Suguru looked at him in disgust, “are you out of your mind?”

Both men were too busy staring at the other down to hear the girl excuse herself and leave.

Satoru scoffed, “I should be the one asking you that.”

“The fuck you mean by that!?” Suguru was fuming by now, attracting the interest of a few patrons that happened to witness everything.

“Hey, hey!” a third voice intervened, Nanami placing himself between them, “you two need to calm down.”

Suguru ignored the recently hired waiter, continuing to stare down at his best friend. There was no way he was going to stand there and let him treat you like that. 

“I asked you a question: what the hell was that!?”

“Sorry for trying to get you a date with a cute girl,” Satoru said sarcastically, “one date won’t hurt, and you know it.”

Fed up with his words, Suguru pushed Nanami to the side and stepped closer to whom he had to call his best and closest friend. He had had enough of Satoru’s shit. 

“Disrespect my girl again, and I'll forget you’re like a brother to me.”

With a sneer, Satoru reciprocated the look.

“Suit yourself.”

—

They barely talked again for the rest of the night.

Suguru could feel a migraine coming, the faint palpitations at the back of his head increasing as the minutes passed. All he wanted was his shift to be over, so he could go back to your arms.

He took the trash outside, staying there a few minutes as he leaned against the wall. His lips wrapped around the cigarette as he took a long drag, and unconsciously began to smile once he noticed the sky starting to lighten. 

The sound of the door opening and closing took him out of his daydream.

“Spill,” Satoru stood before him, arms folded in front of his chest with a serious look that Suguru hadn’t seen in weeks, “what’s up with you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Don’t you dare push me away again,” the white-haired jabbed a finger on his chest, “you were finally recovering, and what? You’re letting her control your life again?”

“I would watch my mouth if I were you,” Suguru warned him, his features hardening again, “and she isn’t controlling anything.”

Groaning, Satoru ran a hand down his face, “when are you going to get it through your thick skull?!” 

“Get what!?”

After stepping on the cigarette, Suguru started making his way inside, getting tired of Satoru’s complaints. Only to stop abruptly once he heard him speak again, his blood turning cold. 

“That your girlfriend is dead.”

Suguru never believed in those weird conspiracy theories that Satoru liked to feed him, and even years later, he still managed to come up with the craziest stories.

He believed there's a rational explanation for everything, not entirely a man of science, but if you could prove what you said, then he had no reason to doubt.

Every rational thought told him it couldn’t be possible, and yet there you were, holding his face between your hands as he heard your voice, and smelled your perfume. 

You were supposed to be gone.

He had to hold back from breaking down as soon as he got home, your silhouette standing by the window as if you truly were there, waiting for him like you always used to. He couldn't bear to see you smile, to hear you talk about a future when you no longer had one. He could barely keep it together when you cupped his face in your hands and made him stare at you, something seemed to have switched in your eyes, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“It’s time to let go, Suguru.”

“I can't,” he whispered in a broken voice, “I don't want to.”

Three months without seeing you, feeling you, there was no way he’d let you slip away from his grasp—not again.

Tears ran down his cheeks, his heart pressing heavily against his chest as he fought the need to crumble down to the floor. He could see your eyes glistening with tears, but your pretty smile remained, giving him all the time he needed to compose himself. 

“I'm so sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault,” you whispered, rubbing your thumbs against his cheekbones, trying and failing to stop the tears, “I could never blame you, I never did.”

Unwanted memories from that day swarmed his mind: the loud screech of tires against the pavement, your body next to his, the sight of your beautiful face covered in cuts and bruises mocking the peaceful look in it. The memory haunted him for months.

What was once the face of an angel, as he liked to call you, twisted into a gruesome memory.

If only he hadn’t convinced you to accompany him to the party, or if he had paid more attention to the road so he could’ve avoided the drunk driver that hit the car as he drove home. You’d still be there, with him, holding him just as you were doing right at that moment.

“I'm going insane,” he sniffled, resting his forehead against yours, “aren’t I?”

“No, no, you’re not. But you aren’t taking care of yourself,” you kept smiling through your tears, your voice gentle as if you were talking to a child, “you either sleep too little or too much, and you haven’t been attending your lectures.”

Rocking you side to side, he dismissed your comment with a nonchalant hum, “but I’m happy now, isn’t that what you want? Just… stay? Please?”

The lack of words on your part was his answer.

“Will I see you again?” 

“Of course,” your smile broadened, “even if the skies fall, or a huge wave takes over the city, you’ll never get rid of me.”

Suguru’s hold tightened, your face hiding in his chest as you both tried to calm yourselves down. He didn’t dare to close his eyes, wanting to see your face for as long as he could. And even with tears clogging up your eyelashes and wobbly lips, you were still as gorgeous as he remembered.

“You’re my sunrise, and I'm your sunset,” he whispered in your ear, “never forget that.”

Not like you could. You had found your very own sunset, only yours to love and admire.

“I would never.”

Even with puffy eyes and tears wetting your cheeks, Suguru still thought you were the most beautiful woman that ever walked the earth. He helped you wipe your tears, watching you sniffle and laugh right after.

“Baby?” you spoke after a few minutes of silence and holding each other, basking in his warmth until it made you sleepy. 

His lips kissed the crown of your hair while his fingers combed it away from your face, admiring your face with love brimming from his eyes, “hm?”

A lump blocked your throat, tears welling up in your eyes before quickly cascading down your cheeks as you ingrained his face into your memory.     

“Look for me in the sky, I promise I'll be there.”

Suguru never saw you again after that day.

It was as if the grief took over his life all over again, the sorrow suffocating him with each breath he took. His body and soul crumpled even lower than the first time, however, with each passing week, the heaviness in his heart became lighter.

It took him a while to open up to Satoru, and when he finally did, the tears were unstoppable from both sides. Satoru felt for his friend and you, you two had had a close bond too after all, and after seeing Suguru shattered after your loss, he knew he had to be his rock.

There wasn’t a place in the city that didn’t have your name, filled with memories of your dates as Suguru and you explored the world together. But it was time to turn the page, with your memory inked on the corner of it and in Suguru’s soul.

He would never be able to forget you, and he didn’t want to.

Sitting by the window, Suguru took a look at the late spring afternoon. Living in a world without you would always be painful, which is why he found himself staring at it from your eyes. That window was your spot; he would always find you there before the sun was up, and right before it disappeared behind the horizon, waving him goodbye as he drove away to work.

The usual bustle of the streets quieted down for a moment, it was as if the world went still. Orange tinted the sky as usual, only this time, hues of blue and lilac blended across it, the wind cold and refreshing as it blew against his warm skin.

Suguru peered up at the skies with a nostalgic smile, a wave of peacefulness making its way into his heart.

“There you are, my love.”