#and i literally already have stubble again what the fuck

[tache-noire]

i wrote a line in a fic once like "he has never been more acutely aware of his balls slipping around in his trunks until now" and that's all i can think of the past few days with lotion on my bits

[farfromstrange]

S.M.S | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Getting intimate with Matt in the morning on a lazy Sunday.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), SMS (soft morning sex), slight Dom!Matt, praise kink, use of "good girl", unprotected p in v, slight choking, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, slight (very slight) breeding kink, mention of cum eating, use of "my wife"

Word Count: 1.8k

A/n: This is pure filth with no plot. I don't know what came over me. I'm so desperate for this man, it's not even funny anymore. I'm gonna take a cold shower because writing this made me feel some kind of way... anyway, enjoy this little smut piece! Diving right in under the cut (with a gif), so minors, scramble!

Read me on AO3

The morning sun streams in through the windows. In the distance, a few birds are chirping at the top of their little lungs. A car honks. The people of Hell’s Kitchen are slowly waking up and going about their weekend. 

All the noise doesn’t matter to you though. The four walls you call home form a protective shield around you, and the only music in the air is the mixed sound of your moans and Matt’s strong thighs meeting the back of yours as he thrusts his thick cock into the tight confines of your cunt.

He’s behind you, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the front, and the other holds on tight to your hip. He moves your body back against his, thrusting into you over and over again at a gentle pace. You don’t have to do anything but take his long, deep, and slow strokes that you can feel in your stomach. 

With every thrust, the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside of you. The spot that makes your eyes roll back, your toes curl, and stars erupt in front of your eyes. It makes your entire body give in to the compelling pull of absolute pleasure, the coil within you tightening and tightening and tightening, but still too far away to explode. 

Matt’s fingers are rough, but when they touch you, they remind you of soft feathers, always making sure not to hurt you. He pours his love into his touch like a poet would bleed his soul into his rhymes. His touch burns into your being—into the essence of who you are—and it consumes you to the point that you could never forget the feeling of Matt Murdock touching you. Sometimes it’s rough, sometimes it’s sensual, but it’s always full of unconditional love.

His sweaty skin slaps against yours. He drags his cock out of your cunt again, slowly, until only the tip remains inside, and you whimper at the loss. He grunts into your ear. The sound of your wetness collecting around his shaft, pouring down your thighs together with his pre-cum like an overfilled glass of white wine, reverberates in his ears. It drives him crazy.

Matt grunts, and he pushes back into you. The squelching sound that your slick folds make is not only audible to him. 

You convince yourself that you can feel every single vein along his cock as he fills you in a way only he can. You can feel him twitch, already so sensitive from a sloppy morning fuck—but are you even fucking or are you, in the most literal sense of the word, making love? Are you being primal and animalistic or are you being gentle with each other? It’s more of the latter, you suppose. Neither of you is in a rush. It’s early morning on a Sunday. All you need is each other after life kept you separate for most of the past week. What you have and what you are doing right now is raw, unbridled intimacy—and a primal need that you need to satiate. 

His stubble scratches against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You moan again. The added stimulation intensifies the burning in your core. The position he has got you in allows him to go deeper, but it tightens your walls to the point it’s almost painful. It’s not unlike you to crave a little pain with pleasure.

“You’re so fucking tight like this,” Matt growls into your ear. “I can feel your pulse against my cock. Do you know how fucking lewd that sounds?”

“Oh, God!” Your eyes roll back, and your toes curl as you moan his name again and again. 

He chuckles roughly. “Never heard something more beautiful.”

“Matt, please,” you beg without knowing what you’re begging for.

You want to come. You want to clench your walls around his cock and cover him in your wetness until the sheets are soaked; you want him to fill you up with his cum until you’re stuffed to the brim, and you want him to eat it out of you like a starved caveman, but you also don’t want this to end. 

You want to keep feeling him just like this, in every ounce of your body, consuming you whole, and loving you endlessly, emotionally, and physically. 

He smiles against your heated skin. Again, he kisses your shoulder. His hand comes to rest around your throat, not squeezing but simply holding you. 

“Lift your leg for me, sweetheart,” he commands.

You inhale sharply. How could you ever disobey him? You lift your leg as he told you to, and he grabs your thighs with his hand, throwing it over his own. You’re on your side, spread wide open for him—over him. His cock hits even deeper, even further than before, and you ask yourself if that is even possible. He’s just so fucking thick. 

“There you go,” Matt purrs, his lips pressing to your ear. The sweat dripping down his temple mixes with yours and soaks into your skin. “Good girl.”

The good girl gets you. It gets you every time. Praise from him is like being praised by a higher entity. Your walls tighten in a vice grip. 

He groans. The groan is so deep it makes his chest vibrate, and his hand tightens around your neck ever so slightly. It’s enough to make you gasp. 

You cling to him. Your nails drag over the hairs on his forearm. The moan you let out sounds high-pitched and too far away to grasp, but he hears it. He hears it all.

And then Matt—that fucker—reaches his free hand between your legs and he cups your wet pussy. His cock still thrusting in and out of you scrambles the words in your brain and turns them into desperate mewls.

He curses when you clench down around him. “You take me so well,” he never fails a beat with the praise, knowing just when to use it to pull a response out of you.

You reach behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair. The strands are sweaty, sticking to his skin, and you wish you could see more than his stubble. You wish he would tilt his head down to kiss you. Instead, you have to press your lips to the skin of his neck, tracing your tongue over his pulse points and tugging at his hair. That is how you can taste him. 

You are needy and desperate, and your body is the one thing in control. You couldn’t form a coherent thought even if you tried. It’s just him, his hands, and his cock; he consumes you, all of you, without mercy.

Your touch burns his fuses. He whimpers. You love it when he does that. When he sounds wrecked for you. Only for you. You are the only one that can make him feel this way.

His hand disappears from your cunt. “Open,” he instructs. 

Out of instinct, you open your mouth. He slides the three fingers in the middle between your lips, pushing down on your tongue until you gag like you would on his cock. 

“That’s it. Get them nice and wet for me so I can rub your clit.”

You moan, swirling your tongue around the digits. You suck on them. The saliva drips from the corner of your mouth, down his forearm.

“Gonna make you come, okay?” Matt pants. It turns him on just how messy he can get you, and every time anew, he sees how far he can go. He gives another harsh thrust, then adds, his voice still beyond breathless, “Make you come all over my cock.” 

A strangled moan escapes him, and it is like porn to you. 

When he finally kisses your cheek, you turn your head to meet his lips. As soon as you taste him and yourself on his tongue, you’re done for.

He cups your pussy again, this time rubbing all three fingers you just sucked over your sensitive clit. You howl. Your back arches away and at the same time into his touch–you’re going to burst soon, you know it. 

As if he read your mind, he presses his fingers just below your jaw. The rhythm of his fingers on your clit matches the pounding of his cock, and he skilfully drags his thrusts along your G-spot. 

You pull at his hair. “Matt. I’m gonna–” The words are too much to utter at this time.

“I know,” he coos. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Fuck!”

“Come for me.”

The coil snaps, sending a shockwave rippling through your entire body, and drowning you in ecstasy. Your thighs quiver and you shout his name like a prayer. You’re falling, and there seems to be no end in sight. No one to catch you. 

You come long and hard, his thrusts faltering as you suck him in and clench with the sheer force of your orgasm. Instinctively, you pull your leg back to shut them and keep him trapped inside, but his hand stops you. 

“Keep your legs open,” Matt says.

You cry out. With every thrust, with every flick of his finger over your already sensitive clit, he drives you deeper into a state of overstimulation.

“I want you to give me another one, baby. One more, and I’ll fill you up. Please.”

It doesn’t take long for you to be back on that edge. You intertwine your fingers with his on your throat. The perfect necklace. 

Matt pulls out again. You tilt your hips back, forcing him back inside. “I’m gonna come,” you warn him. 

It hasn’t even been two minutes since he last made you, but he knows just how to keep you on edge. That way, he can drag several orgasms out of you, each more intense than the other. He has made it his mission to ruin you for any other man.

When you come this time, Matt lets you snap your thighs shut as your entire body shakes in his arms. You cry out, bucking your hips, and clinging to his hand, but it isn’t enough. 

He thrusts upward into you once more, and then he’s coming, too. His hot cum spurts into your cunt. For a moment, he stills completely. 

Matt sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, the copper taste exploding on both of your tongues, but a little blood has never turned you off. 

He fucks his cum into you, slowly, passionately, making sure that no drop goes to waste. Only when he’s satisfied does he stop, and he allows the two of you a moment to breathe.

Thump, thump, thump. Your heart begins to slow down. 

“Holy shit, Matthew,” you murmur. 

He chuckles, smoothing the spot where he dug his teeth into over with his tongue. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Oh, good morning, indeed.” A satisfied giggle passes your lips. “I think we just woke the neighbors.”

“What time is it?”

You peek at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Half past ten,” you say.

“Then it’s not a disturbance of the peace,” he states as a matter of fact. 

“It’s not?”

“Nah.” He pulls out, rolling over to pull you into his side. “A noise complaint would never hold up in court. Even if they filed one, I’m a really good lawyer,” he says, “and I will defend my wife’s pleasure until the day I die.”

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi! i saw you were taking requests for post prison spencer, so hey

i was thinking about spencer meeting a kinda sunshine reader, and it’s like…love at first sight. she’s literally the one to make him smile for good

feel free to add your magic to it, and to ignore it, don’t feel pressure at all!

have a good day/night <3

babe you guys are saving my life with these requests right now! I'm feeling so good about everything I write again <3 enjoy sunshine!reader x post prison!spencer who looks less tense and serious around you

You’re at his desk, sitting there all perfect in your orange button up and flared pants, Mary Janes clicking on the linoleum tile as you tap your pen against your lips. Your hair is scraped back into a ponytail, the plait brushing the spot between your shoulder blades. 

Spencer had asked about you to Penelope, asked about your personality, about how you work- all the important things. What he didn’t ask was if you were gorgeous and Penelope, who loves to divulge, had never said a thing about your looks. 

“Hi, you’re Y/n right?” Spencer’s standing before you, not realising how intimidating he must look till you jolt in your chair. 

You’d been trying to get your morning crossword and read in before the day had officially begun, a habit you’d been trying to keep up with since you started the job. So far it’s been going- the crosswords are boring so you have to pretend to be distracted by it to let it last a bit more than four minutes.

“Oh sorry, I am. You’re Doctor Spencer Reid,” you lean back in your chair, not bothering to hold out a hand to you. Penelope had grilled you on his aversion to germs and touching people more than needed. “I’m sorry about taking over your desk, but they didn’t have any free ones.” 

Spencer shakes his head, you take a moment to look him over. His hair is a bit looser than you’d imagined, Penelope said curly hair and you’d thought tight spirals- he has pretty loose ringlets, dark and mocha-like.

He smells like leather and something else, maybe plum and black currant- it’s a bit of an all encompassing smell that you like already. He’s much prettier too, he looks tired, but still pretty. His stubble presents a problem, you know it’s going to be your downfall. 

“It’s alright, we keep a tight ship. Have they been treating you well?” 

You tilt your head, “The team or the unsubs? Because it’s been too many cases to have real team building.” You grin when Spencer huffs, making his lips twitch. “But I think getting concussed while saving Newbie’s ass counts for something.” 

Luke grumbles as he walks by with his coffee, “You were hired after I was,” patting Spencer on the back when the taller, lithe, man rolls a chair to sit opposite you. 

“Do you still experience headaches or migraines?” Spencer kicks himself when he sees your tongue poke into your cheek- you’re trying hard not to smile at his question. He also thinks he’s doing a shoddy job of flirting but that can be fixed- he’s been in prison for the last three months, he just needs to get back in the swing of things. 

“I’m pretty sure your first official day back starts with you in Emily’s office and not giving me an impromptu physical, Dr. Reid.” His lips twitch again, cheeks jumping as he shakes his head. 

“It’s just a check-up, no physical yet.” he stands, not really giving himself time to overthink what he’s just said. It’s more than a little presumptuous on his part but you don’t call him an asshole or swear at him, so he thinks he’s okay with it. 

“Do you want your desk back, Spencer?” you’re earnest in asking, not wanting to fuck up his routines and his norm. You can tell you like him already and it’s hardly been a fifteen minute conversation. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll take the one right there.” Spencer points a finger to the desk right in behind yours with a little less severity to his lips, his stubble looking even more attractive as he does so. 

You watch him walk away, willing yourself to be professional about all this, he may be hot but he’s your coworker and you know all about close proximity relationships possibly being shams. You’re not here for that, so Spencer will be a good friend. 

You make your way into the kitchen, steps light as you reach for your mug- a cute blue mug with an orca as the handle. 

“So you come in and the kid’s already obsessed with you?” Rossi’s right beside you, making you jump as you put more than the recommended amount of tablespoons of coffee into your mug. 

“It’s not like that, you all made him out to be this awkward shy mess and he isn’t.” You try to sound as casual as you can, but you profile your own voice and know how it sounds to everyone- wistful. 

“Maybe he’s seen a pretty girl and the ‘awkward shy mess’ melted away,” Rossi places his hands on your shoulders. “He’s a good kid. You can trust in that.” 

You roll your eyes, stirring your coffee. “I’m pretty sure he’s in his thirties, Rossi.” You take the milk from him, pouring it in till your coffee is just at the lip of your mug and smile. “Definitely too old.” 

Rossi waves his hand, “I’ve been married four times, old isn’t a marker for romance anymore. Not when you’re only twenty four.” He leaves you be for a moment, and on your walk back to your desk to fill out the remaining crosswords you mull over his words. 

As you sit, you look down and find it all filled out in black ink, opposed to your blue and you know who did it, if the messy scrawled message is anything to go by- ‘You should get The Washington Post puzzles, much more stimulating.’

[kiradrabbles]

Ticci Toby x Afab reader NSFW alphabet

(hello! i may do an AMAB version of these if someone requests it :) in any case, enjoy!!)

A = Aftercare Toby isn't an expert on aftercare. He's mostly inexperienced with sex generally, and even then because he can't feel pain, temperature etc. he's not quite sure what exactly you need. But he'll get you a towel, and awkwardly offer you some water or a snack, hold you as close as possible and conk out on your tits cuddle you to sleep. Or he'll shower with you, but that ends up in another round usually. If you tell him anything specific, though? He'll make sure to do it every time, albiet a little nervously the first few. If he's bruised you by accident he'll kiss where he bruised and apologise, maybe get you an icepack if it really aches. And if you can't walk well? He'll carry you round 'till your legs work again.

B = Body part (his favourite body part) For an AFAB partner Toby is a tits man no question in my head. He's just.. A tits guy, what can I say? Flat chests, large chests, any. He'll smother his face in them and bite them and kiss them- also cuddle actually. Just use them as a pillow. Depending on how sensitive you are he'll incorporate this more or less into sex.

C = Cum Toby loves seeing his cum on you. That's it. He's messy too. He'll give backshots, face shots, tummy shots, anything and everything. This man is a menace.

D = Dirty secret Probably the fact that he's masturbated to you like.. A lot. And he has a ton of pictures he does it to. He isn't ashamed of it per se, he knows you know he finds you incredibly attractive, he just thinks you'll be creeped out by it.

E = Experience I headcanon Toby as a virgin, so you'd be his first.. Everything. Kiss, handjob, head, etc. So he's inexperienced - but he makes up for it with passion! Think about it, when would he have done all this? He was homeschooled for the majority of his life, and even then when he was at school he got bullied like hell for his tourettes. After he became a proxy he probably wouldn't have gotten the chance either. I guess he could have like.. Done some non-con stuff with a victim, but I really can't see him doing that idk.

F = favourite position He'll fuck in any position, but his favourite? If he's topping, this man will use his operator strength. He'll literally pick you up and fuck you. On the table, against the wall, he'd fuck you against a tree if you let him. He likes the power, and the view. Plus if you're held against him he can easily pop a titty in his mouth. If he's bottoming/taking it, mating press with him underneath. He likes the way you have a good view of his face, and can watch him moan and squirm. Plus he just likes the sensations.

G = Goofy (whether or not they're serious during sex) It depends, for Toby. Some days he's up for rough animalistic sex when he's feeling really pent up or stressed, During this he won't be exactly.. Serious, but he'll be too focused on everything else to mess around or make jokes with you. Otherwise? He can goof around a little. Play with you by picking you up and throwing you onto the bed, or biting places he knows you're ticklish.

H = Hair I think he'd be decently well trimmed down there. He wouldn't let it grow out into a bush, but he wouldn't be clean shaven unless his partner wanted it specifically. He also usually has a happy trail fuck you. Body hair? I feel like he doesn't bother to shave it (again, unless his partner prefers it). So he'll have hairy limbs and armpits. He also has some light stubble, which he shaves whenever he remembers, so it varies from clean shaven to the begginings of a beard.

I = Intimacy This man is NOT used to intimacy of any kind. Considering he only every got love from his dead sister? This fucker is probably so easily flustered, sexual or not. Anything non-explicitly sexual but still loving probably turns him into even more of a stuttering mess than he already is. Please kiss his scars and call him handsome and pretty and tell him he's deserving of love despite his disorders I'm BEGGING. Sex wise, again, it depends. Some days he'll just go wild during sex, if he's pent up stressed or just feels like it, other days he'll kiss you romantically and compliment you in between thrusts. He'll also adjust based on your preference.

J = Jerking off He jerks off once or twice a day, usually before missions and bed. He can't get a boner during missions (that would be awkward if nothing else) and doing it before bed is convenient. He isn't addicted to it or anything, and has gone a week or two without doing it on long missions, he just prefers to do so. Especially to a picture of his beloved.

K = Kink(s) Toby is a total freak in the bedroom. I'm talking period sex level freak. It would probably be easier to list what kinks he didn't have. But a few specific ones spring to mind. • Praise kink. Toby is happy to give compliments during sex, but receiving them? Oh lord. He's spent most of his life without compliments or praise, so having you do it to him during something so intimate? He'll turn into a blushing moaning mess. This one is more for when he's bottoming. • Primal play. Like I said before, he's a pretty animalistic guy. He'd love to (with consent ofc) chase you and tackle you down, or play hide-and seek and fuck your brains out when he finds you. Or just hold you down and breed you like an animal. • Cumshots. I mentioned it earlier but this man loves seeing you covered in it. Not only is it straight up hot as hell, he also thinks It marks you as his in a way. Possessive lil shit. • Begging. He also loves it when you beg for him, or he begs for you. He's into it both ways. When you beg for him it's hot because it's reassurance that you want him and find him attractive. Him and no one else. When he begs for you it's hot because he's being vulnerable, and theres something about being that desperate. • Marking. I'm talking biting you, scratching you, hickies and fingerprint bruises on your thighs. He'll kiss them better after the act of course, but in the moment anything that he gives to you makes him go haywire.

L = Location This man will do it anytime, anywhere if you're both feeling it. Bedroom, couch (if the other pastas aren't home), forest, you probably have to persuade him not to do it in alleways sometimes. Or just do it, if that's your thing all power to ya. He does slightly prefer private places though, as that way you can go for longer.

M = Motivation (what turns him on) What doesn't? One particular thing that comes to mind is seeing the marks of what he did the next day, especially if you don’t hide the hickeys with a scarf when out in public. It's embarrassing (and sometimes he feels guilty even when you assure him it's fine) but it also sends something in him crazy knowing you're displaying that you're his in public. The smallest things can get him in the mood, though. You stretching, wearing his clothes, complimenting him, sweating, anything and everything. Sometimes nothing, sometimes just seeing you.

N = No (boundaries) Shit and vomit are.. No go's for him. (He'll try piss if you're really eager). DDLG and Daddy in general make him feel predatory and gross, and also anything father related remind him of his dad which is.. Yea, not sex thoughts. And also voyeurism. Remember I said he was a possesive lil shit? Yeah. He ain't sharing you with no one.

O = Oral He loves oral, both giving and receiving. If he had to choose, though? He'd prefer receiving. He loves seeing you gag on his cock, and of course, cumming all over your face. (he'll clean you up after ofc). Not to say he doesn't love giving it either. This man loves eating. He thinks the noises you make are cute - and he also would not mind you sitting on his face.

P = Pace He's usually fast paced. He loves fast rough sex, both of you moaning and yelling and grabbing each other. Sometimes he'll force himself to slow down though, either to tease you or to make the most of it and enjoy every second, especially if he has a long mission coming up and won't see you for a while.

Q = Quickies He prefers longer sessions with multiple rounds, but he's fine with quickies. Sometimes he just needs to bang your brains out before a mission.

R = Risk You're in the slendermansion, everything is a risk. The walls are thin as fuck - at least you think they are? You've never heard anyone complain about you and Toby, but you've never heard anyone complain about the screams of whichever victim Jeff has brought home for some reason. Toby finds it hotter when theres a risk of getting caught. After all, worst case someone else gets shown point blank you're his, and it's cute seeing you try stifle moans.

S = Stamina This man. Can go. For hours. If you let him. The operator strength affects more than just his strength if you know what I mean. By the time he's done you're usually all fucked out. I'm talking multiple rounds, maybe a minute break between them? If you date Toby get ready to be able to hardly walk for a lot of the time. And you best believe he's a smug shit when he carries you around after. "O-oh babe, sorry, did I fuck your brains out t-too hard?" and he will make you say he did.

T = Toys He doesn't usually use toys, except maybe ropes or vibrators if you're into that stuff. Except. Srap-ons. Peg this man. He won't tell you, but this man is PEGGABLE. And he WILL enjoy it and start moaning your name. Trust guys. He's also pretty skinny (lean, but skinny) so if you use a big enough strapon he'll get a stomach bulge.

U = Unfair (teasing) Usually he can't really tease you during sex as he's too busy fucking your brains out (or getting his brains fucked out) but as with pace, he can slow it down a little sometimes. And when he does you best believe he'll tease the shit out of you. He'll make you beg for it, and he WILL drag it out as long as possible. Probably try his hand at edging you. (but it's fine if you edge him back he'll become a stuttering fucking begging MESS)

V = Volume/Vocal I imagine Toby isn't the most vocal of men, but you will know when he's enjoying it. Moaning, grunting, even growling. Sometimes he'll stutter out short sentances too. "F-fuck, tight-" "gonna split you in half baby-" "Mach w-weiter" (keep going) "Please, p-please please-" shit like that.

W = Wild Card (misc) Toby speaks fluent German, as his parents were 1'st gen immigrants from Germany. (it's canon confirmed he has German ancestry but not more specific than that, so that's more of a headcanon.) He does some sex talk in german, especially when he gets In the heat of it. "Oh mein Gott" ( oh my god) "V-Verdammt, das fühlt sich so gu-gut an" (Fuck, that feels so good) "Ich l-liebe dich, härter bitte" (I love you, harder please)

X = X-Ray Toby is skinny, but lean. And deceptively strong. His whole body is covered head to toe in scars - stomach, chest, arms shoulders legs. Everywhere. He has no tattoos save for the operator symbol on his wrist. He's 5"10 in hight. In terms of his member, he's pretty big, a little larger than average at about 7.5 inches, give or take a few depending on just how hard he is too. He's pretty girthy as well, so get ready for the ride of your life.

Y = Yearning (libido) High libido. Horny fucker. Literally so horny, he's pretty much ready for it any time anywhere. Especially when it's related to you. You could probably look at him funny and he'd wanna fuck.

Z = Zzz It's 50/50 whether he'll pass out after sex or not. If he does he cuddles you close though, probably whispering nice things and calling you pretty. Just resting on you, playing with your hair or letting you play with his.

[httpkaulitz]

high enough

PAIRINGS: Vampire!Bill x Female reader

CONTENT: Smut

SYNOPSIS: Bill is a little addicted to you.

WARNINGS: mention of addiction, mention of blood and bite, manipulation, fingering, oral (f receiving)

You met Bill by chance, after another day of work you were coming home and literally bumped into him. Staggering and somewhat disoriented, he didn't know where he was.

Against all your thoughts of self-preservation you took him home and took care of him.

When Bill told you he was a vampire, you thought he was crazy and when he showed you what he was you strangely remained calm. Somehow you felt like he wouldn't hurt you. And he never did.

All the blood he had from you was given to him willingly. You wanted to help him and so you did.

And it was by wanting to help him that you ended up in this situation.

"What do you want?" Bill asked impatiently.

"What I want?" You repeated, looking at yourself in the mirror. "Nothing. I'm happy."

He let out a frustrated groan before taking a deep breath. You watched him straighten up, though the action was considerably less intimidating. His bleached blonde hair was disheveled and tangled with a light sweat on his forehead.

"Damn it." You observed. “you’re worse than an addicted.”

“Brilliant deduction! Do you want a fucking medal?” You raised an eyebrow.

Bill slapped his face, rubbing his stubble tiredly.

“Can’t you just help me?” He was always ready to dramatize, you already knew his tactics. You turned to him.

“We have already had this discussion. No." You said firmly.

"I can give you-." He started to speak but you interrupted him before he could even continue his speech about how good he could be and give you expensive things that you never had. You've been through this before.

"Nothing." You interrupted, crossing your arms. “I don't want anything from you, Bill. I like my life. I like my boyfriend. I like my job. There is nothing I want from you that can change my mind. Plus, I’m pretty sure I can think of a handful of humans who would be more than willing…”

“I DON’T WANT ANY IDIOTS OFF THE STREET!” His jaw was tense. If he applied more force, you'd think he might break his molars. “I want your blood. Yours. Do I need to spell this out for you?”

He approached you, brown eyes glaring at you.

"Please." His voice was almost pleading.

Inhaling silently, you studied him with half-closed eyes.

A second later and you shook your head.

“There is nothing special about my blood. You're being needy because I was there for you when no one else was. It was my mistake. I won't let that happen again.”

Before he could lift a finger, your arm flew forward. Either he was too weak to fight back or he wasn't even trying. Whatever the reasoning, you were easily able to make him fall back into a chair.

He didn't seem surprised by the gesture, nor did he try to fight it.

“I’m going to meet my boyfriend.” You said approaching him. “When I come back, you will be gone.”

“Liebe.” He whispered with furrowed brows and doe eyes.

“Bill, stop. You're better than that." You paused, grimacing. “I'm serious, control yourself.”

His head fell back and despite your better judgment, you went to his side. The last thing you needed was a drugged-out vampire in your apartment.

The moment one of your hands wrapped around the back of his head, Bill grabbed your wrist.

The pressure was gentle but sticky. His reddish brown eyes tried to mask a poorly concealed despair. Both pupils were dilated.

"You know." He drawled, bringing the back of your hand to his cheek. "You're my favorite human."

“I’m not yours.” You corrected, unable to not find his attention somewhat amusing.

“Oh, but you are.” He snapped and you rolled your eyes, the stubble rubbing against the skin of your hand like sandpaper. “It means your blood is very special. You are my special human. I don’t want anyone’s blood but yours.”

He continued stroking your hand. You found it slightly disturbing and strangely adorable.

“Quick fix.” He whimpered softly, pulling your fingers up to his lips as he blinked rapidly. “Just a taste will be enough for me. I won’t bother you again after this.”

You let out a pained gasp, your thumb thoughtlessly brushing his upper lip. He responded by kissing the tip of your thumb.

“I won't do it again. This is the last time, okay?” You always said that and you both pretended to believe it. The truth is, you couldn't say no to him even if you tried.

"Sure." He agreed, releasing your hand. "Last time."

                      ✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

“Oh, Jesus, not again.” You exclaimed impatiently.

This time, he was lying in your bed, with the sheets piled up beside him. Your comforter was thrown somewhere on the floor.

“Liebe.” He greeted you lazily. Despite knowing his name, he never used it. Always using some German word that you didn't know what it meant. “I'm glad you're here. Would you mind giving me some liquid?”

You shook your head in disbelief.

"Unless you want me to piss in your mouth, I suggest you get out of here." You responded sarcastically without patience.

“Piss in my mouth?” He repeated slowly. Without warning, he burst into laughter, fingers gripping the sheets in delight.

You made a mental note to change them after he left.

“I’m an eccentric bastard, but not that eccentric.” He said. “You said last time that you wouldn't donate again, but you don't understand. You don't understand the euphoria you give me. It’s… I imagine it’s magical.”

''I'm sure you can live without it.'' Spinning around, you quickly rid yourself of the shirt, tossing it onto a nearby chair. You took a deep breath, arms reaching for the ceiling. The position was maintained until you felt the pleasant burning in your muscles.

"But I do not want." He says thoughtfully.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” You mumbled, taking off your jeans.

He didn't respond to your joke. Instead, he got up from the bed. Not that you heard or noticed it.

Until you felt the unexpected pressure of two warm hands resting on your hips.

“Bill.” You warned, looking at him over your shoulder.

"Hmm?" He hummed, shamelessly pressing into you.

“Get off me.” You whispered seriously hoping he would respect your request.

"I don't want." His grip tightened. You tried to ignore his hardened length digging teasingly against your ass.

“I heard a rumor that you’re not happy with your little toy.” He whispered in your ear huskily. You were so shocked by his boldness that you ignored how your skin crawled.

"You don't have ri-."

"It is not?" Bill asked with a raised eyebrow. “I keep tabs on my favorite human.”

You weren’t sure if he was serious or bluffing.

“So, you have romance, flowers, blah, blah, etc.” He listed, two fingers slipping under the band of your panties but not going any further. “But when it comes to being naughty, he falls a little… boring.”

A calloused hand brushed against your ribcage, nails grazing the skin experimentally. Involuntarily, your breathing became shallow.

“A little sexually frustrated, aren’t you?” He continued.

You were ready to lift a heel and tap his toes when, without warning, he grabbed one of your breasts, smirking when you shivered.

“I could do anything you wanted.” He suggested, brushing the outline of your hard nipple with his thumb. “I could be a good boy for you, if you want. I could easily spend hours paying attention to your pretty pussy, you know. I spent a beautiful day or two thinking about it.”

His breath sent a wave of goosebumps across your shoulder.

“Playing with your clit. Sucking it. Making you all nervous. Always giving. I don't have to worry about my own needs. I’ll put my tongue to good use, ma’am.”

Your hips moved forward as the two previously inactive fingers slid across the opening, not penetrating but brushing the sensitive wetness with tantalizing intent.

Protesting the action would have been counterproductive. Despite Bill's irritating nature of manipulating and being a general jerk, his words were leaving you embarrassingly wet.

And that was what was confusing you.

“You are a pathetic addicted.” You tried to sound angry, but your voice came out shaky.

You felt his shrug before he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You are my conflicted and sexually frustrated supplier. I don’t think we need to point fingers” He said amused.

Biting your lip, you forced yourself not to think about the hand massaging your breast or the two fingers caressing your pussy.

It was a trickery. The word alone made an unpleasant feeling of guilt in your stomach. Your boyfriend was a nice guy. Better than you dated in a long time. He treated you with a respect that's hard to find these days.

So, the sex wasn't the best. Was it really worth throwing away months of a well-paced relationship just for a few seconds of mindless pleasure? Especially with Bill, of all people!

You may not be the best person in the world, but you tried to be good.

On the other hand, befriending him wasn't exactly a step in that direction.

“Mistress?” He was gone. There was no longer Bill in that tone.

You would have found his submission more comical if it hadn't worried you so much. And it intrigued you more than anything.

“I’ll be a good boy, I promise.” He insisted. “Our little secret. Fair deal, I guess. In fact, I'll give you a free sample.”

Unexpectedly, he removed both of his hands and moved away from you. The disappointment you felt at the loss of contact was not something you wanted to reflect on.

You saw him kneel before you, his eyes wide but focused. More focused than you usually witnessed when he craved your blood.

"Come here." He gestured.

When you stayed still, he snorted softly. With a few quick movements, he knelt so he was eye level with your hips.

You knew what he was about to do. This, perhaps, was the worst part. You knew and you felt…excited. Relieved, even. For the first time in months, you were about to receive as much as you gave. Appropriately.

It was selfish and terrible, but equally thrilling and exciting.

“Open your legs a little for me, baby.” You did as he said, teeth firmly gripping your bottom lip.

"My God, you've been a lecherous young lady, haven't you?" Bill smiled, hands steadying himself on your hips.

"Shut up." You mumbled, ignoring his embarrassment.

"Yes ma'am." His fingers hooked into the elastic and slowly slid your panties down. The entire time, his tongue was stuck between his teeth while his eyes never left your pussy.

You took off your panties, almost shaking with excitement when he threw them over his shoulder.

“Hmm.” He marveled, tilting his head. "I was right. Beautiful."

The compliment made you not only blush but also become slightly irritated. Were your priorities really that far off?

That depressing thought spurred your next action.

Quickly, a hand grabbed Bill's hair by the roots. With a push, you pulled back, ensuring his eyes locked with yours.

“If you want my blood, you work for it. Got it?" You didn't even realize you had a dominant streak until Bill's obedient nod made you smile. “If I don't reach my high, you certainly won't reach yours.”

"Yes ma'am." He responded obediently. No sign of sarcasm or mockery.

You looked at him for a second longer and let go of his hair. Bill wasted no time.

It didn't take more than five minutes for you to cum. Whether this was a result of not having pleasure for so long or Bill's genuine talent, you weren't sure.

What you could be sure of, when a hand found his hair again and kept his tongue and lips attached to your clit, was that you were entirely willing to make that bargain again.

                     ✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

This arrangement lasted a solid month. Which surprised you. You thought the moral of exchanging blood for sexual acts would disgust you. At least enough to present a bigger argument the next time Bill showed up again. But that wasn't the case.

The next meeting was certainly a little awkward. You came home from your shift and found him sitting patiently on your bed. He didn't say anything. He just watched you as you tiredly took off your clothes. His submission was strange but attractive. It wasn't until you were blessed with a quiet Bill that you realized how much you appreciated him.

"How are you doing?"

It was strange, but you couldn't help but ask. Bill may have been an addicted and willing to do anything to get what you wanted, but he was still a living creature beneath that stupid desperation. Completely degrading him brought you no pleasure and wasn't something you felt completely comfortable doing.

“You won’t hurt me.” Bill complained. “I'm a big boy. Do your worst."

“Do you want a safe word?” Yet you asked.

“Unless you have plans to kill me, I really don’t see the point.” That was the last discussion about a safe word or words in general.

Bill came three times a week, sometimes four. Always when you were alone. His snark, thankfully, wasn’t present and he did everything you requested of him.

At first, you were careful about boundaries. The first week was spent mostly in your bed, with Bill buried between your thighs. He was surprisingly energetic, licking and sucking you like a hungry animal. His fingers were excited too, starting to pinch your clit and moving in and out of you at deliciously insane speeds.

No orgasms were faked, and if you were taking a while to cum, Bill worked with impressive voracity to ensure you reached your high.

That's what made you bolder.

In the second week, you ordered him to touch himself.

"What?" He asked confused.

"I want you to touch yourself." He studied you with half-closed eyes.

"You understand this isn't about my pleasure, right?"

"Yes. It's about mine. Drop your pants, sit on the chair and touch yourself.” Your voice didn't even tremble.

His confusion was evident, but he did as you asked.

As you guessed, watching him masturbate was a deeply satisfying sight. On some level, you wanted him to feel pleasure from this arrangement, but that had more to do with fascination. Fascination with being able to make someone bigger and stronger take off his underwear, sit down, spread his legs, wrap his hand around his generously sized cock and slowly start stroking himself. In front of you. Simply because you ordered it.

The control was intoxicating.

You didn’t ask him to do anything else after he climaxed with a strangled moan. And it was one of the first times you realized that Bill had no idea what your game was. Or at least why you were enjoying watching him cum.

The rest of the month followed roughly the same schedule. You would give him an order and after a brief but curious glance in his direction, Bill would obey.

Many of the commands required you to cum. At you request, Bill got into the habit of bringing a vibrator. Which he used on you very well.

Some days the commands were to get him out. You were creative and it was never the same way. True, he always touched himself, but sometimes it was kneeling on the bed or bending over a chair so you could admire his cute ass. Once, you even deprived him of his vision with a scarf, taking advantage of the slight uncertainty his hand felt when caressing himself.

By the four week, you were comfortable enough to ride his persistent tongue into pleasure without an ounce of shame or embarrassment.

On the days Bill didn't show up, you questioned what you were doing with him. In public and surrounded by friends, you were passive and sociable. On nights when the two of you were alone, you were loose and experiencing some serious dominance kink.

For a long time, you were puzzled and faintly appalled by your actions.

Then one night, it hit you.

When would you ever get that kind of sexual freedom again? That ability to explore what made your toes curl and grip the headboard until your mind went blank and your voice hoarse.

Nights with Bill made you feel liberated. They made you feel like a woman. The vampire never judged you, although in the end he received your blood, so that was his triumph.

Regardless, the ability to delve deeper into your sexuality and learn the new ways your body responded to stimulation was one of the biggest reasons you never withheld your blood from Bill.

If there was any guilt you held onto, it was because Bill did the things you asked for your blood, nothing more. It would have been nice if his actions were genuine. But he was an addicted, you reminded yourself.

This, when you looked back on the whole fiasco, was ultimately where you made an error in judgment. Assuming Bill regarded your meetings as nothing but a necessary task in order to gain the true source of pleasure: your blood.

In fact, you were completely unaware that after only two weeks together, he’d completely kicked his blood habit.

And that he was testing you.

It wasn’t until the month was complete that you found out why.

                         ✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

He wasn't sitting on the bed this time.

Instead, he was standing tall and physically looked immaculate. Hair combed, beard trimmed and he looked at you differently.

The moment you absorbed all these changes, you felt a distinct shift in power.

It was definitely not in your hands anymore.

“You look healthy.” You greeted. “Who finally got to talk you out of it?”

A part of you couldn't deny that you were a little disappointed. You sessions would probably come to an end. And the Bill before you certainly didn't look like he was taking orders.

But you weren't selfish enough to deny feeling genuine happiness that he was no longer an addicted. No one deserved to be a victim of this desire. Of course, he will always have to live with the desire to drink blood, but now in a controlled way.

“That’d be you, darling.” He revealed. “Put plenty of things in perspective for me.”

"Good." You encouraged, offering him a soft smile.

He continued watching you without blinking.

“See yourself in the mirror lately?” He asked.

Immediately, a hand patted your hair.

“Did a bird shit on my head again?” You walked over to the mirror, fingers examining you head.

Bill appeared behind you and stopped your search by grabbing your wrist.

You looked at him.

“Skin doesn’t have the vibrant glow it normally has.” He whispered calmly.

Eyebrows furrowed, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Wow. How did you miss that?

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered.” He continued. “Always giving me the amount of blood I ask for is not an easy task. Or a healthy one. But I can’t allow you to get hurt.”

You nodded absently. Your brain became more fuzzy at the consideration Bill was giving you.

"Why are you being nice?" You asked, looking at him warily.

“Like I said… I got a little perspective on things.” He replied.

“Do I need to be worried?” You asked apprehensively.

"Hardly. Not only have you fulfilled my needs, but you did so discretely. As an added bonus, you even made personal sacrifices. That right there... that's the way to a man's heart."

“I think you’re overestimating my worth.” You pulled your hand away. The conversation starting to make you uncomfortable.

“Honey, you’re underestimating yourself. Let me explain what happened last month to you. I was vulnerable, needy and weak. Instead of making a name for yourself - which I'm beginning to doubt even crossed your mind - and taking advantage of me, you quietly gave me my fix. With me so far?”

“Anyone would have done it.” You knew this was a lie the moment it passed your lips.

“Mm… I’m afraid not, liebe. I don’t find that kind of loyalty.” You weren’t sure if you should feel flattered or flustered.

“Now, this is where it gets interesting. After I got my addiction under control, I couldn't help but wonder why you were helping me. So selflessly, in fact.”

“I got off on telling you what to do.” You defended.

“No, I understand that part. But you started making small sacrifices.” Swallowing hard, you took a step back.

"Like what?" You asked confused.

"Well, like breaking up with your little toy, for example." Bill hummed in amusement.

“He didn’t deserve to be betrayed. It had nothing to do with you.” Bill smiled at that.

“If it weren't for my mouth on your pussy three times a week, you never would have let the poor guy go. I had a little input into that.” Something inside you twitched with discomfort and pleasure.

“So, as we saw, you neglected your appearance a little. You didn't even realize how much blood I was taking from you. And yet, you continued to give.” Taking a careful breath, you tried to get your thoughts in order.

"You deserved to get what came to me for." It seemed like a lame excuse, despite its veracity.

“And that’s the fun part!” Bill exclaimed. “This whole time you were under the impression that I hated it. I hated making you cum, I hated cumming while you watched, I hated the total attention you gave me. I'm not sure if you've heard, but I have a bit of an ego. And you caressed it until I was weak in the knees. You had so much control in your hands and had the courtesy to worry about my own pleasure. Not very mistressy of you, liebe.”

“If you were so confused about it, then why the hell didn’t you stop?” You retorted. “If you didn’t like me not playing my role, you should have stopped playing yours.”

“Ah, but I liked my role.” He assured, eyes slowly scanning your body. “In fact, if you knew how much I enjoyed it, you would be more worried about disappearing so I could never find you.”

"Are you-?" Your voice died in the middle of your throat.

“Ah, I left my favorite human speechless. Well, let’s see if I can remedy that.” Before you could blink everything went dark.

When you woke up you were in a huge room with incredibly expensive furniture. The place was well lit and looked very modern, you could see some paintings on the walls around it. The tables held a variety of food and drinks. Some, you noticed, were among your favorites.

Your mouth officially dropped open when you noticed it was king size and the sheets were brown. Also expensive, it seems. Above that, your eyes sharpened on the silk ties tied provocatively to the headboard. That was certainly a vision that spoke for itself.

“I will not be your mistress!” You argued, quickly getting up from the bed.

“I prefer the term girlfriend.” He didn't move from his seat once.

This gave you the confidence to try to escape. You ran towards the door but it was locked.

“Nice trick, isn’t it?” Bill mentioned, pride coloring his voice. “I blocked your exit, my dear.”

“Bill let me go.” With a tight frown, you stared at him.

“I will give you anything you want.” He promised. “In the meantime, you might consider this vacation a little more…permanent.”

“You are imprisoning me!” You screamed, anger burning through your veins.

"Keeping." He corrected. “I'm keeping you. Considerable difference in terminology.”

You tried to regain control of your breathing, but your current situation didn't allow for that.

“I like you, liebe.” Bill stated seriously. “You are charming, adventurous, and deceptively thoughtful. More than that, you are trustworthy. And has a sexual appetite that rivals mine.”

“And you couldn’t have told me that without kidnapping me?”

"Keeping." He remembered. “What would you honestly have done if I told you I was pretending to be an addicted because I was more addicted to you? Which sounds as terribly sentimental out loud as it does in my head. Shame. I thought it would translate better.”

You backed away until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Tremblingly, you sat up, palms hitting the sheets beneath you.

“I was kidnapped-.”

“-kept-,” Bill said helpfully.

“-all because I was…nice.”

Bill shrugged. "Opposites attract?"

You lost consciousness right after you finished laughing. Rest assured, you found the situation more grim than hilarious.

Sighing, Bill walked over to your unconscious form. He sat up and gently picked you up so you rested against his chest.

The urge to smile and grimace fought violently within him.

“This could have been worse.” He confessed, looking at you.

He rested his chin on your head. The desire to smile won. He was happy.

[hiraethhh-h]

to a new beginning

note: literally writing this because the boyband leaks got me so excited i started fucking squealing and stomping my feet. enjoy <3

pairing(s): sett x gn!reader, aphelios x gn!reader, sett x aphelios

wc: 753

“are you sure he’ll like this phel?”

aphelios gently placed his hand atop yours with a reassuring squeeze. “of course he will.” came aphelios’ soft voice. his dark gray eyes shone with warmth. a small smile began to form on your lips at the sight. with a firm nod, you looked to the hat you held in your hands.

it was a dark maroon beanie you had hastily knit, as the debut for aphelios and the others’ band was quickly approaching. it felt right to give such a gift of encouragement to sett. alune had already gifted aphelios a new headset so he could properly edit the mixtapes he and the others made. there was a matching dark pin on the front of the beanie. carefully, you moved one of the floppy ears out of the way. there were three main symbols on the pin; a sun, a moon, and a star all interwoven in some way. you had thought it fitting for your guys’ relationship.

the sound of jangling keys caused both you and aphelios to look over to the front door. it swung open, sett quick to emerge with a tired sigh. aphelios gave your hand one final squeeze before going to greet sett. the taller male pressed a quick kiss against aphelios’ dark teal hair, his other hand going to give aphelios’ hips a small squeeze. “hey mooncake.” sett greeted gruffly. he unceremoniously dumped his dark duffle bag onto the floor next to the door. with the dark gray tank top and light gray sweats sett wore, it was easy to tell he had just come from the gym.

sett was quick to call your name out. his golden eyes scanned your figure, a brow raised in silent question. “you look worried. did something happen?” aphelios took sett’s larger hand in his own, guiding his boyfriend to where you were seated on the couch. your eyes darted to aphelios, full of uncertainty and hesitation. your lover only gave you a small nod, the faintest of smiles on his lips.

“everything’s… fine, i just…” you exhaled shakily. “here, come sit.” you scooted further onto one side of the couch, gently patting the spot next to you. the cushions shifted under sett’s weight as he got comfortable. with a shaky breath, you cleared your throat shortly after. slowly, you lifted the beanie into sett’s view.

“i, uh… made this for you. since you guys are having your debut soon, i wanted to give you something.” you reached upwards to carefully place the beanie atop sett’s head. you gently brushed out any of his damp crimson locks out of the way. afterwards, you sat across from your boyfriend with your hands folded in your lap, unable to stop yourself from fidgeting with your fingers. you had slanted the beanie a bit in the end, as sett’s hair wouldn’t allow you to properly straighten the edges. the pointed ears of the beanie now stood attentively, which looked quite cute on sett’s built figure.

sett’s gaze softed, a lax smile finding its way to his face. he was quick to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his embrace. the smell of old spice flooded your senses and it was anything but overwhelming. “it looks fuckin’ cute.” he told you. sett gave you a small squeeze, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. you giggled upon feeling the faint stubble on his chin graze your skin. “thank you. and you ain’t gotta be nervous when giftin’ me stuff. if it’s from you or phel, i don’t give a damn what it is. i’m just grateful you thought of me.”

you could feel your heart melting in your chest at sett’s words. you wrapped your arms around his torso in return, resting your head on sett’s chest with a growing smile. behind you, the couch dipped yet again. you looked over at aphelios, a warm look in his eyes at the two of you being so close. but there was another look in his eyes as well.

“nuh-uh, don’t you say it phel. i can see it in your eyes.” you huffed with a chuckle. aphelios gave a chuckle of his own, soon to wrap his arms around you with his hands resting atop sett’s. he rested his chin on your shoulder, pecking your cheek with a smile.

together, the three of you remained in a group hug until sett proposed properly cuddling inside his bedroom to which you and aphelios happily agreed.

[beanghostprincess]

Thinking about Shuggy and Shanks actually just being in love with Buggy’s nose. It’s the cutest thing. When he was a teen he first tried to hide his feelings for his friend and pulled some , sometimes quite literal, pigtails to annoy him, often pointing Buggy’s, self perceived, flaw out to him to drive him up the wall, but in all honesty he really likes it. The crew goes out drinking and someone makes a jab at Buggy’s nose and the place is just roaring with laughter as the boy stomps away from everything, while Shanks just half mumbles into his beer that he wears it actually quite well.

It’s one of the many things about Buggy that he knows are ugly. Or so he’s been told. He knows Buggy is funny looking, not only the nose, but his face that starts to get more square as he grows up, his awkward stubble that doesn't seem to want to grow into a full beard, the lips that stretch too wide across his face, the ears that protrude a little from his head, the list goes on. People have been pointing out those things to him all the time, often mocking, sometimes soothing, because looks aren’t all that matters and Buggy also has other physical features that could be considered quite handsome despite those features. Shanks has decided that those people are idiots, because there is nothing about the way that Buggy looks that he doesn’t like. Not that he can tell him that.

Because if he told Buggy one of the best things about his kisses is just how he always has to smoosh his Nose against Shanks face to get a good angle, how it’s so endearing when he miscalculates and has to try again after realizing that it got in the way, how he loves how his ears go red when he’s embarrassed or flustered and that he wants to plant kisses all over Buggy’s weird looking face, Buggy would think of it as a joke.

So he just settles on watching Buggy get ready in the morning, how he puts his hair up in a ponytail and is already complaining about upcoming tasks, till he catches Shanks gaze in the mirror. His mouth curls into a slight snarl as he turns around to Shanks, a bit of patchy stubble sill dotted across his chin, his nose crinkles slightly in dismay, but it can’t hide the hint of self-consciousness in his voice when he asks “What?”

“Nothing.” Shanks answers, hugging his pillow closer to himself as he rests his head on it, smiling at the clown. “You’re just looking handsome today is all.”

The last line,,, I am sobbing,,, This made my heart do so many fucking backflips I am shaking and crying and curling up on the floor.

Shanks literally loves everything about Buggy. He doesn't even understand why people say he's ugly, they just say it and he just assumes that they're either stupid or that beauty standards suck ass. Because to him, Buggy is the most gorgeous pirate he's ever seen. Ever since they were kids, he has always been fascinated with him. He's always found his face captivating, and while they grew up, he started to find his whole body captivating and gorgeous. He's so down bad and he does not want to get up, really. He wants to stare at Buggy for as long as Buggy lets him. When people laugh at Buggy for how he looks, Shanks always fights them. Or he goes away too to be with him because he despises the idea of leaving him alone. When they were kids, nobody in the crew took him seriously when he screamed at them. But now? That's the one thing you can't do around Red Haired Shanks. Do not disrespect Buggy. If a poor soul finds themselves unaware of that fact...... Pray for them.

He enjoys Buggy's beauty the way somebody would enjoy a piece of art. And it's quite funny how Buggy is usually so self-conscious about it and how much it bothers him that Shanks won't stop staring at him. But Shanks can't help it! He just feels at ease when he's looking at the clown. He reminds Shanks of when they were younger. He makes Shanks feel younger. And Shanks doubts there will ever be somebody that warms his heart as much as Buggy does.

[diazheartsbuckley]

Fuck It Friday ✨

I'm sorry for being AWOL (again lmao) but I've been working on the omegaverse fic literally every day for the past week and you're not gonna believe this, you guys - I DID IT!! I FUCKING FINISHED A FIC FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER 😭

So many of you have tagged me in these last few days and I can't wait to go through all of your amazing works 💕

Prev snippet here

(Story and tags under cut)

In the bedroom, he sits down carefully next to Buck and strokes his lower back gently, a soft sigh of relief escaping Buck’s lips as he feels the warmth of Eddie’s hand on his skin. “You’re in labor” Eddie states, his heart skipping a beat as a fatigued Buck sits up to meet his eyes in the darkened room. Buck swallows harshly, feeling bad for lying again. “Yes” He says and bites down on his lip, chewing on it gently as he places his hand on Eddie’s stubbled cheek. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Eddie’s heart aches in his chest, hating that Buck kept a truth from him once more. But this time, he was more willing to hear the reasoning why. “I didn’t want to take your time with your family away, I wanted you to be able to celebrate Christmas with them and to not worry about me. Besides he’s not supposed to be here for another three weeks and I think that-… that I didn’t say anything because that would make it all a little more real. I’m not ready, Eds. I’m not ready for this” Buck’s words are dripping with sincerity and he even sniffles quietly a few times to calm his racing heart down. Eddie reaches onto the nightstand and turns on the lamp, wanting and needing to look at Buck right now. He cups Buck’s head in his hands, feeling warm tears making their way down the sides of Buck’s face and he lets out a deep breath, one that had seemingly been growing inside of him because the pressure on his chest lessens. “Hey, let’s just get one thing clear, okay?” Eddie begins and tilts Buck’s head carefully, making him look into his eyes. “You are my family, mi amor. You and our son are my family too and I will always, always worry about you. Even if you don’t say it out loud. And I don’t want you to hide something like this just because my family is around. We’re in this together” He says, concern etched deep into his face as he holds eye contact with Buck, not letting him look away. “And I know that he isn’t supposed to be here just yet but we’ll handle it. We’re ready, you are ready, baby. You hear me?” His voice grows a little more firm as Buck averts his gaze and shakes his head, not wanting to hear it. “What if I’m a horrible dad? What if…” Buck wipes his tears away with the back of his hand, all of his unspoken fears bubbling to the surface as another contraction surges through his body, making him wince in pain and surprise. “What if he’s like me, Eddie? What if he’s an omega too? I spent so many years hating who I was because of it, feeling like I wasn’t good enough. What if I’m just as strict as my father and I can’t love him how I’m supposed to?” Buck’s voice breaks at the end of his sentence, insecurities washing over him like a tidal wave, sweeping away all of the confidence that he’s spent years building, with it, leaving nothing but a wreck of a man. “You are not your father, Evan. Just being able to recognize that you don’t want to be like your father is already a step in the right direction. I know that you will never hurt him like your father has hurt you, I know that you will help our son build the confidence and strength to be proud of who he is, no matter what. I know that you already love him and would do anything to see him happy. You are going to an amazing dad, you already are an amazing dad, promising to not be like your own and loving our son so damn much” Eddie’s speech is filled with adoration, love and so much pride in knowing that he’s creating a family with someone like Buck. Someone who loves so unconditionally. Someone who, in the face of adversity, is still able to show others how strong that he is. Someone who’s kind and caring. Someone makes Eddie want to be a better version of himself. That’s the man that Eddie knows that he’ll love for the rest of his life.

Tagged by @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck and @diazsdimples for FIF 🌹

Tagging!! @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998 @devirnis @jesuisici33 @hippolotamus @evanbegins @exhuastedpigeon @wildlife4life @loserdiaz @athenagranted @tizniz @wikiangela @cal-daisies-and-briars @honestlydarkprincess @disasterbuckdiaz @butraura @lover-of-mine 🦋💗

[helaelaemond]

Tom Bennett + 42! I literally used an online number generator for maximum game-ification

Plain Jane REMIX ft Nicki Minaj - 'suck a ***** dick or something'

Tom Bennett x unnamed sailor - dirty talk, allusions to oral, man on man action

The sailor gives Tom a tight-lipped smile, before walking past him. “Let me know next time you need a hand. Or a mouth.”

Infuriatingly, the words slide over Tom’s skin like silk, making it difficult to retort. He clears his throat. “You should be so lucky.”

“Yeah. That’s the hope.”

That tryst was three days ago now. Tom rolls over in his bunk with a clenched jaw, and decides enough is enough. His cock is hard, and his stomach sick with want.

Back to the dining hall he goes in the depths of the calm night. He glances over the edge of the ship as he slinks silently along. Below, the inky water laps gently against the hull. How good it would be to be back home. He wonders if the woman from the dock would welcome her back into her company. How warm her thighs were, how wet she got. Trying to remember her face is pointless. Can't even remember the colour of her eyes. Brown? Blue? Black? Green? Doesn't matter. He lost himself in them that night. The ocean offers no oblivion. Not the same kind, at least.

"Hello, Tommy."

Tom's lip twitches. "Been waiting for me?"

The sailor, sitting at a table in the shadows, laughs quietly. "Would you like that?"

"Don't bother me none either way."

"Well, you've got your choice tonight." The sailor shifts slightly and his face is caught in a sliver of light from outside. He's grinning, and then he nods his head towards the far side of the hall. Tom peers through the darkness, and after a moment he sees the figures of three men. He holds his breath, and through the quiet, the sighs and noises of wet mouths fills his ears.

His lip twitches again. Perhaps once, it would have turned his stomach, but he supposes that now, as he's already fucked a man, it shouldn't bother him as much. That being said, he did think about a girl the whole time.

"Sure they wouldn't mind you joining."

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks. Just looking for one mouth. All them look a bit preoccupied, don't you think?" Tom retorts.

"Yeah, a bit."

"So." He pauses for a moment. "You free?"

"I ain't gonna charge you."

Tom actually sniggers at that. "Ain't got nowt to pay you with, anyway."

"Saving up for a whore in Argentina?" he teases. Tom glances down, and sees the strain against the man's boilersuit.

"I don't gotta pay for it, here or on land."

"That much I believe." The sailor stands up and walks slowly to him. He reaches for the buttons on Tom's suit and watches his face. "Tell me what you want, Tommy."

The girl on the dock. His sister's smile. A proper pint. Even his dad, who doesn't laugh at his jokes. Nah, don't think about that, not now. Don't get soft. "What y'good at?"

"Everything."

Behind them, soft moans are choked back by the three men. Unseen movements become quicker, more desperate. There are butterflies in Tom's stomach.

"How's your mouth?"

"Not as loud as yours."

Tom grins again, and when the other man leans in to kiss his neck, he allows it. The man's stubble tickles his skin, and his lips are hard, but he closes his eyes and thinks of her - any her he's even been with, really - it makes him throb. "Use it properly, then."

"You can do better than that," comes a whisper in his ear.

"What?"

"Say it properly."

"You want me to talk dirty to you?"

The sailor bites just below his collar. "Just once. You owe me."

Teeth make him shiver but he smiles. "Alright." He drops his voice slightly, and runs a brave hand through the man's hair. It feels strange, hair this short, but it's the least he can do. "I want you to get on your fuckin' knees. I want you to put my cock in your mouth like it's the last time you'll ever get a taste of it. And I want you to suck me off until the only thing I know is the name of the Heavenly Father. Can you do that for me?"

His mouth hangs open slightly, and he nods. "Uh- yeah. I can do that."

"Good g-" good girl. "Lad. Good lad. Go on then. Get on with it."

He does as he's told, and quickly. Tom's head drops back, and he fights back moans.

God, he misses girls - but no one has sucked him like this jolly sailor bold.

[mulletmitsuya]

Toman Groupchat (everyone's here again, well most of em)

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, mentions of periods, mentions of drugs, mentions of pregnancy

Desc: Mikey and Izana realize the actions necessary for Emma to get pregnant, and they don't like it (also Yuzuha and Senju r gay, sorry)

Emma: Mikey while you're at the store could you pls buy me pads

Mikey: ayt

Mikey: your pussy size is large right?

Smiley: ayo

Angry: there's a reason for dm guys😕

Baji: LMAO

Emma: :(

Emma: that's not how it works

Senju: me personally, I wouldn't take this level of disrespect

Senju: that's crazy

Draken: Mikey you dumb fuck

Rindou: is that how periods work?

Rindou: the bigger the pussy the heavier the flow?

Rindou: holy shit

Rindou: i'm gonna add that to my new song

Sanzu: why

Rindou: listen

Rindou: "the bigger the pussy the heavier the flow"

Rindou: "no pussy can beat my rap game tho"

Rindou: 🔥

Sanzu: what the fuck

Izana: that may be the worst thing i've ever heard

Ran: no, let him do what he wants

Ran: please rap those exact words on your next gig

Emma: guys can you not I'm already in a bad mood 😭

Hina: Emma-chan do you need me to come over?

Emma: yes pls. we should have a girls day :)

Draken: if you guys need me i'll be at the shop with Inupi and Shin

Emma: okay ❤❤

Mikey: you didn't answer the question bruh

Emma: just take large😐

Izana: why r u in a bad mood I just gave you ice cream

Emma: cause of my period

Emma: i didn't expect it to come

Yuzuha: do you not have a calender

Emma: no it's just i thought i'd be pregnant by now

Emma: me and Ken have been trying for a baby everyday for the last 2 months so i thought it would have worked :(

Izana: k

Baji: r you guys as Emma's older brothers just gonna let this happen

Baji: can't believe you said that Emma

Mikey: wdym

Izana: ?

Baji: Emma just told us that Draken has been blowing her back out everyday for the past 2 months

Kazutora: yooooo

Hina: guys😐

Baji: y'all r tripping

Mikey: ...

Mikey: Ken-chin☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

Izana: what the fuck Draken

Senju: must be nice Emma😊

Senju: great relationship, great house, great penis

Senju: i'm really happy for you guys (when is it my turn to be happy, i'm so sick of this)

Yuzuha: lmao good for you Emma

Yuzuha: and Senju you're literally famous

Izana: i'm literally going to kill you

Draken: ...?

Emma: are you guys serious right now

Mikey: you guys have sex

Mikey: ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

Draken: i-

Draken: she's my wife

Draken: for 4 years now

Izana: what makes you think that means you can touch her???

Mikey: i'ma tell Shinichiro btw😐

Kazutora: someone lost NNN lmao

Ran: only single people do NNN so they can feel rewarded for their virginity and feel like it matters and that it's worth something when it's not

Kazutora: yes

Kazutora: let me have something damn

Angry: i'm the champ of NNN just btw😡💙

Angry: wait that was before i saw Rans message :(

Smiley: sometimes you do this to yourself

Emma: Manjiro get the fucking pads

Mikey: k, but i don't wanna talk to you anymore

Yuzuha: "adult man baby cannot fathom that his sister has sexual relations with her husband"

Yuzuha: is that about right

Mikey: i'm not a man baby

Mikey: does this mean the same with Hina and Mitchy?????

Mikey: 🤢🤮😭😰

Mikey:

Hina: you're just mad cause the only thing you ride is your bike

Hina: i'm sorry i didn't mean to say that

Hina: i apologize 😔

Baji: get it Hina, eat him up

Baji: dumb ass, pubeless ass, broke ass, b.o smelling ass, no bitches ass mf

Mikey: PUBELESS???

Mikey: I HAVE SO FUCKING MANY DUDE DONT PLAY WITH ME RN

Mikey: I'M A GROWN ASS MAN

Baji: yet you can barely grow any hair on your body

Emma: he tried to grow a stubble once and got an infection☺

Kakucho: the same happened with Izana haha

Kakucho: ...i'm sorry

Izana: 100 pushups

Izana: now

Kakucho: Izana please

Kakucho: i just had a gallon of ice-cream

Kakucho: please

Izana: your begging will amount to nothing

Izana: do you want 150

Kakucho: 😞

Takemitchy: leave my boy alone 😕✊

Izana: maybe put on some deodorant first

Takemitchy: ...i don't smell tho

Izana: Hina tell him

Hina: tell him what😅

Hina: there's nothing to tell babe❤

Hina: I love you so much more than anything even

Takemitchy: ...i'll go take a shower😕

Yuzuha: free Hina

Yuzuha: you deserve a woman, they smell nice

Senju: i smell nice😚

Senju: and i'm so smoll

Senju: i'm so microscopic

Senju: maybe we could compare hand sizes Yuzuha🤗

Yuzuha: what r you doing

Baji: why are you acting like a pick me

Senju: cause i want her to pick me tf🤨

Senju: anyway

Senju: Yuzuha☺❤

Yuzuha: uh

Senju: one date?🤗

Yuzuha: uhm

Yuzuha: ykw fuck it, sure ig

Senju: ...

Senju: I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND OMG

Senju: GONNA START A LIVE ON INSTAGRAM

Senju: MY FANS R GONNA BE SO HAPPY😭😭😭😭❤

Yuzuha: ?

Sanzu: poor girl

Sanzu: she copes by feeding her delusions

Sanzu: a shame

Mikey: is that why she's so happy all the time?

Sanzu: yeah

Baji: aren't you delusional?🤨

Sanzu: i'm very normal

Ran: oh please

Rindou: and how exactly do you cope?🤨

Sanzu: i don't need to cope i'm a fucking superstar

Sanzu: also ketamine

Rindou: 😒

[abiiors]

apple cider 🍎 // matty healy x reader

promptober '23 - day 2

a/n: i'm trying a new format hehe, lemme know if you like it cw: alcohol and weed, smut adjacent wc: 1k

you’re already staring at the half built fort in front of you when matty’s message comes through. it’s…questionable to say the very least—something that could make or ruin the entire date night you’ve planned but there’s not much you can do about it at this point. 

you pick up the sheets, getting to work again. it’s been a while since you and matty have gotten a good amount of time together—between your work and his, it has felt like a long distance relationship despite living together. and both of you decided it was enough. and you couldn’t be more excited for the date night, building a blanket fort for the two of you to watch movies in, like high school teenagers with a crush on each other. 

you smile at the thought. it’s not that far from the reality, even after all these years, he still is your crush. 

“daddy’s coming home in fifteen minutes, sweets,” you tell allen who sits by your legs, occasionally asking for head scratches.

sure his message says you have twenty minutes—but you know him well enough. so you make quick work of whatever’s left, snapping a photo of it once you’re done. clearly proud of your own work. 

not even two minutes later, your phone chimes with another message, making you burst out laughing.

as expected, he’s back sooner than he said—cheeks and nose pink from the cold air outside, making grabby hands at you as soon as he enters so he can pick you up for a cuddle. 

“you’re so warm…” he sighs, kissing the top of your hair and practically melting into you. 

you indulge him for a bit, letting him be a grown baby and clingy as much as he wants. 

“been so long sweetheart, i missed you,” he mumbles, making you giggle slightly into his chest. 

“we live together, you know?”

but you know what he means and before he fully even has a chance to protest, you stand on your toes, pressing a soft kiss onto his lips. to absolutely nobody’s surprise, he deepens in almost instantly, moving you both back to the sofa in the living room where he can properly pull you onto his lap. 

his hands are instantly under your top, making you yelp from his cold fingertips. matty’s laughter echoes around the room as he tries to take advantage of it—making you squirm by trailing his cold fingers on your warm skin and pressing unsuspecting kisses onto your neck, smiling when you laugh at the tickling sensation of his two day old stubble. 

this could go on, could lead to more. except you spot the small crate by your front door, and you look back at your boyfriend again with an arched eyebrow.

matty shamelessly laughs at you as you try not to cough a lung out inside your blanket fort.

“fucking hell!” you try to speak again, voice hoarse from literally the first sip of the ‘cider’, eyes watering as you shake your head. in front of you, he casually lights a joint. “matty, baby… i think that’s just pure alcohol.”

he shrugs, “the label says hard apple cider. you just have shit tolerance.”

he squirms away laughing when you try to smack him. he is right though, the aftertaste of this horrendous concoction, is most definitely that of an apple. and it’s nice too. despite the first sip almost killing you, you take another. this one goes down relatively better. 

you huff, “i think an apple might have breathed near it at one point in time but that is not apple cider. you got duped.”

he picks up the bottle between you, taking a swig from it as if it were literally apple juice and nothing more. “tastes nice though, doesn’t it?”

when you make a face, he clicks his tongue. “come here, let’s shotgun. the weed will make it taste better.”

now that proposition has your interest piqued. in the soft glow of the twinkling fairy lights, matty looks handsome. the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to expose his forearms, his first two buttons are unbuttoned. you waste no time situating yourself on his lap. 

“hi, there,” he smiles, pressing a single featherlight kiss to your jaw that tickles. you feel a slight buzz forming in your head—a combination of the cider, the weed and most definitely matty. 

“hi,” you smile back, actually blushing when he stares right into your eyes. 

“ready?” the joint dangles from between his lips. he speaks around it, looking irresistably attractive. 

you nod and part your lips. 

when his lips touch yours, it’s like a shock of high electricity flooding through your veins, the smoke in your mouth feels warm, going down all the way to your lungs, spreading through your body. the buzz in your head intensifies and you close your eyes, breathing it out once again. 

matty doesn’t stop there. seconds later, his mouth crashes onto yours, teeth colliding against teeth, while his hands hold onto your waist in a tight grip. he takes advantage of it when you gasp, tongue sliding over your lip and licking the inside of your mouth. 

your fingers work deftly to unbutton his shirt, needing desperately to feel his skin against yours. matty’s hands, now warm, are already under your top, caressing skin. 

you moan softly in his mouth when you feel him growing harder. you’re certain he can also feel the wetness growing between your legs right as his fingers circle your nipples. 

“pretty girl,” he breathes, mouth hot on your jaw and going down your neck. 

he’s about to push you onto your back, about to take this further when matty yelps and pulls back abruptly. 

his hand is on his thudding heart, while his wide eyes are on allen, who’s snuck into the fort without either of you realising and now stares at you with big puppy eyes, head tilted and all. 

you coo at him, matty groans. 

his cold snout is right near matty, while a conspicuously wet patch of skin glistens right on matty’s ribs. 

“get out,” his finger points at the open door. allen follows it and then looks back at you again only to whine softly. 

“don’t talk to my baby like that!” you scold matty, instantly pulling the puppy to your chest to cuddle him, laughing when matty gapes at you. 

“stealing my girl,” he mutters to himself, “cockblock.” when you give him a warning glare, matty grumbles, begrudgingly scratching allen behind his ears. the puppy yips happily.

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu

add yourself to the taglist

[mybiasisexo]

Entangled - Part 8

Pairing: Chanyeol x f.Reader Chapter Warnings: Language   Word Count: 5k Author Notes: okay, I feel like this is lowkey a filler chapter 😭. but I like it so idk lmao. so much has happened since I last updated. I quit my old job, got a new one (that's kicking my ass. pray for me) had my bday and saw Beyonce 3 times!! but yeah as always sorry for the delay, hope you like the chapter and feel free to lmk what you thought!!! I loooove feedback and y'alls commentary!!! makes my damn day!! have fuuuuuun~!

You come to the following morning from what is possibly the best sleep you’ve gotten in years. A yawn escapes you as you stretch your tender body.

The action has you aware of something not moving around you, and you glance down to see a heavy arm thrown over your waist. As if the owner of the limb can sense your attention, it constricts, pulling you closer to a heat behind you.

Startled, you tense up, not even daring to breathe as you carefully roll onto your back and then turn your head the rest of the way until you’re knocking your nose gently against Chanyeol’s.

He’s in a deep slumber. Gentle snores leave his slightly parted lips, and his features are relaxed. He looks so peaceful, so serene, so…content. It melts your heart. You can’t help but stare at him, noticing the way his silky tawny hair falls across his pillow and the stubble poking out of his chin that grew in from the night before.

The night before….

Your eyes widen at the reminder and you’re sitting straight up, causing Chanyeol’s arm to fall limply on your lap.

Oh, you’ve really done it now.

Chanyeol stirs, and you think you’ve woken him, but he just rolls onto his other side, revealing his naked back to you.

Harsh rows of red raised skin catch your attention–the proof of how good a lover he is. Even though you know to some men, Chanyeol included, the scratches are a badge of honor, you only feel remorse from causing him pain.

His lack of clothing has you aware of your current state of undress and you quickly pull the thin sheet over your chest. It’s a silly action. Chanyeol’s sleeping, but even if he was awake, he’s seen your breasts plenty of times, had them in his goddamn mouth last night for christ’s sake.

Still, you must at least try to preserve some dignity.

You dare another glance at the man beside you, as if he’s a figment of your imagination that will vanish once you’re in your right mind. He doesn’t go away, so you must be really out of it.

Groaning, you drop your head, hitting your forehead repeatedly with the palm of your hand.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

Fucking your ex fiance was the last thing you had planned to do on this trip. Getting closure? Sure. Making peace? The least you could have done. Now? Things have become even more complicated. Which is pretty impressive given everything that has transpired over the last couple days. And Yerim…. God, Yerim. She hasn’t even been gone twenty-four hours and you’ve already jumped her man’s bones. Sure, he was yours first, but it’s the principle of the thing.

Shit, maybe you are the problem.

As if you aren’t already about to dive in a pool of panic, a memory from the night before decides to reveal itself. The knowledge has you gasping, staring unseeingly ahead of you in terror.

Did you tell Chanyeol you loved him?

Oh, god. Oh, fuck.

Yeah, you gotta get out of here.

Feeling nauseous, you stumble out of the bed, crumbling to the ground the minute you put weight on your legs. Your bambi legs are a byproduct of Chanyeol’s pleasurable menstrations, having you literally weak in the knees. You shake your head and push through the slight throbbing of your core, standing carefully on shaky legs. Chanyeol chooses this moment to toss back around so that he’s facing you again. The arm that was around you earlier flops forward to reclaim its position, but lands on egyptian cotton instead. His eyebrows scrunch together as his hand idly runs over the empty space–searching for you. Feeling bad, you pull down a pillow. His fingers find it and yank it towards him, curling into it like a toddler with his favorite teddy bear. Your name leaves his mouth in a content breath, and all the turmoil in you dissipates for a moment. Maybe you’re overreacting? Yerim won’t be too mad, right? And Chanyeol still wants you, right? Last night meant something to him?

Did it mean something to you?

You can’t even think about that right now. Truth is you have no idea where you stand, and are even more confused than before the wedding. You’ve blurred the lines and anything can mean anything.

What you do know is that you need to leave, and you need to do it before Chanyeol wakes up. You can’t face him right now, not before you understand your emotions and actions.

“Focus,” you order yourself. You scan the floor that is now a mess of discarded garments, and a shimmer of gold catches your eye. You snatch it up, only to find it’s Chanyeol’s tie. You stare at it, remembering the way he demanded you to undress him, and drop it like it shocked you, shivering from the memory. That is definitely not what you’re looking for. 

There. A little further you find your dress and underwear. You slide them on quickly, not bothering to zip up your dress. You’re only going a few doors down, so you only hold it against your chest.

Despite telling yourself to focus, you can’t stop thinking about your confession. Obviously it was the lust speaking, the nostalgia. Yeah, that’s all that was.

Chanyeol never said it back.

The epiphany straightens your back, and you startle as you lock eyes with yourself in the floor length mirror directly in front of you. The woman before you is tragic, her hair poofy and stiff, eyes rimmed black, face puffy and nose still red from crying. You look like the clown you are.

You shudder, truly haunted, and head out. You pause by the door to slip into your shoes and grab your purse. Your heels have a buckle, but you can’t risk wasting any more time, so you don’t bother securing them. 

You open the door and a choir of angels begin to sing.

Their joyous voices die with a record scratch at the sight of Byun Baekhyun standing on the opposite end, fist up as though he’s about to knock.

You can’t catch a break.

He takes you in, visibly shocked. He says your name in a dramatic loaded question and you wince at his volume, bouncing off the walls. Damn, this is not good.

“What are you doing here?” He asks accusingly.

You quickly peek over your shoulder, checking to see if your new visitor is loud enough to wake Chanyeol. He doesn’t stir, and you can’t fight the pride that blooms in you. You wore that man out!

Shaking the emotion off, you turn back to Mr. Loud Mouth in front of you.

“Hush,” you hiss, shoving him back with the arm not currently holding both your dress, and what little you have left of your sanity, together. You make sure the door closes with a gentle ‘click’ before grabbing Baekhyun’s arm, dragging him the couple doors down to your suite. He yelps and asks where you’re ‘kidnapping’ him. It’s easy to ignore his helpless cries with the obnoxious sound of your heels slapping against your feet. 

Once in front of your door, you dig through your purse for your key, forgetting you didn’t secure your dress. The top half flutters down, titties basking in the breeze.

You freeze, eyes closing tightly as you bite your bottom lip so hard you think you’re going to bite it off. Your only saving grace is that Baekhyun is behind you, obscuring his view of your private bits.

You hear him huff in annoyance before he’s brushing your hair out of the way, gathering your dress, zipping it up as far as it can go with your arms not in the sleeves.

“Thank you,” you whisper, face burning in shame. Dejectedly, you find the key and get you both in. You kick your clacky shoes off, not wanting to draw unwanted attention, and lead Baekhyun to your room. You rest your forehead against the door as you close it, giving yourself a moment to just breathe.

Once you’ve deluded yourself into thinking you’re good, you turn around and face your friend. He’s taken residence in your vanity chair, searching your frazzled figure with worry. You can only imagine what you must look like from his point of view.

Finally, he musters the courage to speak. “You look….”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Okay…. Would you care to explain why you were running out of Chanyeol’s room like you robbed him? In your wedding clothes, no less, first thing this morning?”

You rub your eyes. To be honest, no, you didn’t want to have this conversation. Especially with Baekhyun. No offense to the guy, you adore him, but he’s not really known for taking things seriously. Except… right now it does appear he’s taking this situation very seriously. Although there is a hint of playfulness in his tone, you can’t see any of it on his face, only genuine concern.

Defeated, you sigh and march to your bed, plopping down onto the edge to bury your face in your hands.

“We had sex.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” he answers sarcastically. You glare at him through your fingers. He grins in reply, but it’s soft, reassuring, letting you know that everything will be okay.

It slips from his face as a thought occurs to him. “You weren’t drunk, were you?”

You shake your head and he lets out a relieved breath.

“Quite the opposite. It was probably the most sober decision I’ve made this whole trip.”

“So, what went wrong?”

“I just….” You recall your confession and wince, stomach flipping with embarrassment. “We ended up running into each other in the elevator and went to his room. We were only supposed to talk. But, I don’t know. You know the wedding was a lot for us both. And this trip has been very stressful and tense and we haven’t been alone since we got here and maybe that was for good reason because obviously we couldn’t handle that if–”

“You’re rambling,” he interrupts.

You take a deep breath. 

“I told him I loved him,” you push out before you can regret admitting it. It sounds even worse spoken out loud.

“And?” He asks, skeptically.

You blink in surprise at his reply. “And he, well, he didn’t say it back.”

You avoid his gaze and bring your knees to your chest and nibble on your thumbnail anxiously, waiting for Baekhyun’s response to the new detail. You must have rendered him speechless, because he remains silent. Either that, or he’s trying to figure out the best way to let you down on Chanyeol’s behalf. That makes you stiffen your shoulders, bracing yourself for the cold dose of reality. It never comes, and his lack of response drags until you think you’re going to explode.

Finally, you whip your head up to him exasperatedly just to see him looking at you like you’re the dumbest bitch he’s ever seen.

“What?” You snap, hating how condescending his expression is.

He rolls his eyes at your tone and lets out a laugh coated in disbelief, rubbing his forehead. “I love you, but you’re stupid.”

“I know,” you sulk, pouting as you rest your chin on your knees. “I wasn’t thinking straight, obviously. I got too caught up in the moment. Being with him like that, it brought me back to the good ol’ days, when we were falling in love. But, we’re not in college anymore. We’re not the same people we were when we were together.”

You furrow your brows, really trying to untangle your thoughts. It’s a lot easier to do with someone to look at.

“That’s what it is. I mean, how can I still love a man I don’t know? I can still have lingering feelings for the man I used to know, though. Maybe having sex was a good thing? All that leftover tension between us can finally rest. Yeah, that’s what last night was–left over tension. Now that we’ve done the deed, we should be good now. Sure, we still need to have a talk, there’s still some things we need to address to fully move on, but I think the hardest part has passed.”

You search your friend’s face for the right answer. “Right?”

His lips thin and then he’s sighing. “Do you want to know what I think?”

You nod miserably, thoughts too chaotic to decipher any logic.

Baekhyun stands up and walks over to you, reaching out to rub your arms comfortingly. In a gentle murmur he says, “I think you need some breakfast.”

A surprised chuckle leaves you as you lean forward, resting your forehead against his stomach. “You’re probably right.”

You relax under his touch, and you both stay like that. His hands go from your shoulders to your back, rubbing soothing circles onto your skin. The repetitive trail makes you drowsy.

The door swings open.

“I thought I heard you co–OH MY GOD!”

Seulgi stands dumbfounded at the door, the hand not frozen on your door knob covers her hanging jaw. Shock coloring her face as she takes in the compromising sight before her.

Baekhyun stumbles quickly away from you, tripping over his feet in his haste.

“It's not what it looks like!” You defend. That’s literally the worst line you can possibly say to her.

“What the hell!” She squeaks. “What the fuck is happening right now!?”

“We were just about to get something to eat!” Baekhyun says, as if that explains anything.

“HUH?!” Seulgi starts fanning her reddening face. She turns to you, not even going to humor him. “Look, I know this weekend has been rough for you. I understand you wanting to distract yourself by getting underneath someone. But, to sleep with Baekhyun of all people–”

“Hey!” The man in question barks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Seulgi, please,” you beg. Crawling off the bed, you stumble over to her. “That’s not what happened at all!”

Your words go through one ear and out the other as she glares at Baekhyun, who’s shivering in his metaphorical boots under her judging stare. “I can’t believe you would do this! Chanyeol is your best friend! Do you not care how this will affect him when he finds out?”

“We didn’t do anything,” you plead.

“Then explain what I just walked into! Explain why you look a damn mess! And are those–are those hickeys?”

“I HAD SEX WITH CHANYEOL!” You yell in her face.

“I–wait, what?” You can see the internal conversation she’s having with herself as she tries to comprehend what you just confessed to her. When your words have meaning, a look of sheer horror contorts her lovely features.

“You didn’t.” Her voice is low, threateningly so.

You gnaw at your bottom lip, even more anxious than when Baekhyun was questioning you. 

Your silence is an admission and she yells your name accusingly.

“I know!” You agree. “Please, I know!”

“I don’t understand. How? Why? I thought you were over him, or at least trying to be. I–”

“Hey,” Baekhyun cuts her off, joining your little party. He rests a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s let her take a shower and get into some clothes that don’t have cum stains on them. Then we can get breakfast. She can explain everything then.”

“There’s no cum on my dress,” you mumble with a frown.

“I know Chanyeol’s kinks,” Baekhyun says. You huff in defeat.

Seulgi’s cat shaped eyes bounce back and forth between you both skeptically. You can see all the questions she has running through her pretty head.

“Alright,” she reluctantly agrees. “Hurry and get ready. I’m starving.”

You have a feeling it’s not food she’s hungry for.

Baekhyun leads her out of your room, throwing you an apologetic look, and you wonder how many more times he’s going to look at you like that.

Nearly an hour later, you find yourself in a little unassuming mom and pop restaurant. Baekhyun’s grandmother lives on the island, so he knows all the local hot spots. The ajumma serving you is absolutely thrilled to see him, promising to put a bit more love in your food, which you can definitely taste upon your first bite. It is exactly what you need after the active night you’ve had.

“Yerim made it home safely,” Seulgi informs, not glancing up from her plate as she does.

Your lips thin at the mention of her sister, knowing she’s bringing her up on purpose.

You didn’t need her reminder. Yerim has been on your mind all morning.

“Yeah?” You finally answer. “Glad to hear. I’m sure she’ll hate me for good once she finds out what I did right after she left.”

“She’ll get over it,” Baekhyun is quick to dismiss.

“She’ll forgive you,” Seulgi allows. “But she’ll never forget.”

Leaning back, she finally gives you a sharp look. “What happened last night anyway?”

Luckily, you just so happen to scoop some food into your mouth when she asks that, so you take advantage and slow down your chewing. Aiming to enjoy every last bit, because you know it’s going to be the last time you’ll be able to. You swallow it down with some water, for good measure, taking your time chugging it empty. 

Seulgi watches in amusement, knowing what game you’re playing.

“Well,” you start, scratching behind your ear. “As you both already know, Chanyeol and I hooked up last night.”

“Hooked up?” Seulgi clarifies incredulously. It’s an interesting choice of words to describe what the two of you did.

Beside her, Baekhyun shakes his head, but keeps his opinions to himself, allowing you the floor.

“Yeah. And I want to say, for the record, that it was spontaneous. We just so happened to bump into each other when I was on my way back to the room. He asked me if I wanted to go to his room instead and I said yes–innocently! We were planning on just talking. And I mean, we did talk a bit?”

“Did you talk about Yerim?” Seulgi asks.

“No….” You avoid her stare and sink into your chair.

“Did you talk about your breakup?”

“No….”

Her eyes narrow. “So, what did you talk about?”

“About the wedding,” you answer like it’s obvious.

“And now it all makes sense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You pout.

“The two of you have been tiptoeing around each other all weekend. I thought it was just the awkwardness of seeing an ex–in your case, an ex dating your friend. But I misread it. Now it’s pretty obvious that if it weren’t for Yerim, you would’ve probably slept with him sooner. It wasn’t awkwardness I felt, it was tension…the sexual kind.”

Your frown deepens. Were you seriously that weak? You thought you did a pretty damn good job resisting Chanyeol, but it only took three days to fall into his sheets. That wasn’t very strong of you at all. Seulgi is right. Yerim was the main reason for you keeping your distance, not your pride or your past. She had only been gone a few hours before you gave into him.

“Does that make me a terrible person?” You quietly ask.

“I don’t think so,” Baekhyun answers simply, shrugging when you lock eyes.

“It doesn’t,” Seulgi agrees, although she lets out a tired sigh right after. “But I still don’t understand why? It’s been years, girl, and you’ve never mentioned him once in that time. It’s been a while since you got laid, and even longer since it was with Chanyeol. Old habits die hard, and you didn’t get the closure you wanted, but sleeping with your ex seems so out of character for you.”

“He’s not just some ex, Seulgi,” Baekhyun intervenes. “He’s her ex fiance, and they didn’t break up on bad terms, necessarily. There’s still love there.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you interject, shifting in your seat uncomfortably. 

“So, it was just an old attraction? Old habits and all that?” Seulgi asks.

“I think so,” you say and she seems to melt in relief. “I think it was just left over sexual tension, and now that we’ve got it out of our system, we can be normal. We can move on.”

Baekhyun doesn’t seem convinced. “And you’re sure Chanyeol will agree with you?”

You shrug. “I don’t see why not. It was just sex.”

“It’s never ‘just sex’ with Chanyeol, and you know that. Especially when it comes to you.”

“You’d be surprised,” you mutter, mood dampening at the memory.

He doesn’t hear you. “And I know you’re lying. Didn’t you tell him you loved him last night?”

You glare at Baekhyun and he answers it with a smug smile, knowing he just set you up.

“You did what now?” Seulgi asks deadpan.

Internally you wince. “I might have told him I loved him while in the throes of passion.”

She says your name disapprovingly. 

“And you know what? He didn’t say it back. So, you see? It was nothing more than physical for him as well.”

Seulgi looks as though she has some words for you, but Baekhyun beats her to the punch.

“You both drive me insane,” he groans. “It’s obvious you both still care about each other, what’s the point of trying to talk yourself out of it? It’s never too late to try again, and trust me when I say Chanyeol wants to more than anything. He’s already asked you for a second chance. He wants this! He wants you!”

“He said all that when he was drunk off his mind, Baekhyun.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true!”

You groan and lean your head back against your chair, feeling the pressure of the world falling onto your shoulders. It hits you then, the weight of Chanyeol’s affection, and for a moment you’re back on that sidewalk, drowning in it. You remember why you left, remember the moment your love for him twisted into something dark. Chanyeol said you told him you hate him. Truth is, you had. With him back in your life, you forgot about that, forgot that there was another reason why you were trying to avoid him. Again, everything is even more confusing, and you find yourself at a total loss of what to do next.

“It’s okay to feel overwhelmed by that,” Seulgi reassures. She knows you way more than you give her credit far. “Everything is happening so fast. You don’t have to make a decision right now, and honestly, I don’t think it’s wise for you to.”

You lift your head back up and take in your concerned friends. With the way they’re both sitting on either side of each other before you, it’s almost like they’re the angel and devil on your shoulders. One speaks for your heart, while the other speaks for your mind. Holding onto each of your hands and yanking you back and forth like a rope in tug-o-war. 

“I don’t know the right answer,” you whisper, feeling your eyes water in frustration.

“Whatever’s going to make you happy,” Baekhyun answers simply.

You cough a laugh and a tear escapes, but you’re quick to wipe it away.

“I think,” Seulgi begins, reaching over and grabbing your hand. “You should give each other space, and wait until you’re back in Seoul. It’s only a couple days, and it’ll give both of you time to figure out what exactly it is you want from each other. Do you have an idea of what that is? Is it a relationship? Closure? Or just physical connection?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit.

She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows. You understand. She’s right.

“That’s probably the best idea,” you relent.

Baekhyun grunts in disgust. “Doesn’t Chanyeol deserve a say in this?”

“Of course he does,” you say.

“But that’s a conversation for later,” Seulgi intrudes. “Preferably with others around.”

You lift your hands up in defeat. 

Now that your problem has been solved for now, you all go back to eating in a comfortable silence. Everything still tastes amazing, thank fuck.

Suddenly, Baekhyun straightens and turns to Seulgi. “What did you mean earlier anyways? When you said me of all people?”

She scoffs. “Besides the fact that you’re a weirdo? You’re Chanyeol’s best friend. If you had slept together, it would be the deepest betrayal to him. But, if she had slept with any of you, my reaction would be the same. The only other person I could possibly see her with is Sehun, and even then….”

“Ew,” you both finish.

“I love all of you,” you say. “But not like that.”

“It’s the same for me too!” Baekhyun admits. “I would never do that to Chanyeol, because I would never do that, period. Don’t ever put that disgusting idea in anyone’s head again!”

“No problem!” Seulgi says, resolute.

You finish breakfast soon after that and leave for the hotel. Today is the first day of your little             reunion tour. Sehun figured that everyone would be too hungover to do anything that required movement, so you’re all just going to hang out at the beach and watch the sunset. Sounds like the perfect Sunday to you.

You all left your phones in the car, so the first thing you do once buckled up is check your notifications, reading the texts in the groupchat confirming some of the others were heading out to the beach and the location they chose. Baekhyun winces as he scans his device, catching your attention. When you lock eyes, he gives you that pitiful smile, almost like a warning, before turning his screen for you to read. It’s filled with texts and missed calls from Chanyeol.

“Oh boy,” is all you can muster, trying not to linger too much on the only message you can read: ‘please. I’m begging’.

“What’s up?” Seulgi asks from the backseat. Baekhyun proceeds to show her his phone and she shakes her head in dismay.

“Should I call him?” He asks.

“No,” you’re quick to reply. Avoiding his gaze, you settle into your seat, staring blindly out the windshield. You feel him watching you for a moment before sighing and starting the car, pulling out to drive you back to the hotel.

The elevator ride is long. You wonder if Chanyeol will be in the hallway when it opens. Baekhyun leans against the wall, rapidly firing off texts the whole way up. It takes everything in you not to ask him what he’s telling Chanyeol to calm him down. 

The doors open, and you’re both relieved and crushed to enter an empty hall. Baekhyun walks you both to your room, which is polite, but you all know is a front. His room isn’t on this floor, and you don’t need him to walk you back.

“Where are you going?” You can’t help but to ask.

He grins guiltily and nudges his head towards Chanyeol’s room. “I’m going to check on him. That’s why I came up here in the first place.”

“Right….”

He pats your shoulder. “Get ready and head down to the beach. I’m sure you got Jongdae’s text in the groupchat. Both him and Jongin are already setting up camp.”

“Don’t take too long,” Seulgi says in farewell before pulling you into the suite.

As soon as the door closes, she’s holding you by the shoulders, staring deep into your eyes. “You can’t go back on your word now.”

“I’m not,” you say, cringing as the way it sounds like a lie.

Her grip on you tightens. “It’s all going to work out. Don’t get all sulky.”

“I’m not.”

She smiles. “You’re such a terrible liar. It’s kind of cute.”

“Stop flirting with me,” you sigh, grabbing her hands to hold them instead. “I’m going to take your advice. We need space.”

“Space,” she repeats approvingly, rubbing your knuckles with her thumbs.

Banging on your door causes you both to jump.

“Yeol, stop it! I already told you they’re not there!”

“I need to know for sure.”

You swallow thickly at the sound of Chanyeol’s voice.

You hear Baekhyun sigh and then Chanyeol call your name, which jerks you closer to the door. Seulgi grips your hands harder, holding you back. You lock eyes. She shakes her head in warning.

“Are you in there?” He pauses briefly, waiting for you to reply. You hold your breath, afraid in the silence he can hear your heart’s rapid beating. “Please, open the door, Mel. I just… I just need to see you.”

His voice is calm, but alarmed, as if he’s trying not to sound as desperate as he feels. He knocks again, the reps urgent, giving away the worry he’s trying to disguise.

“I just need you to tell me everything’s okay.” Now his voice cracks.

Fuck it. You can’t avoid him forever. You go to open the door, but Seulgi’s hold is surprisingly strong and you can’t break it.

“Space, remember?” She whispers.

You didn’t know that started now. 

Reluctantly, you relax, leaning your head on Seulgi’s shoulder. She wraps her arms around you, rubbing your back as you wait for Baekhyun to do his job in getting Chanyeol away.

“I can’t do this again, man,” Chanyeol’s broken voice comes through the door. “I can’t lose her again. Not like this.”

“I know, Dude.” Baekhyun sounds just as helpless, and a wave of guilt washes over you from putting him in this position. “But, she’s not in there. Let’s go to my room so I can change. It won’t take long, so don’t even think of ditching me!”

A silence drags on for so long you’re sure they’ve left. 

“Chanyeol?” Baekhyun urges.

“I–okay. Let’s go.”

You hear them retreat and let out a breath.

Seulgi whistles. “Quite the mess you’ve made.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “You can say that again.”

“Hey,” She rubs your arm. “He’s going to be fine. Let’s change. I’m sure you’re now very eager to get down there.”

You let her lead you to your room. The whole time you can’t get over the pain in Chanyeol’s voice, a pain that you caused.

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[ingravinoveritas]

MY GOODNESS THAT TV INSIDER SNIPPET WHERE YOU CAN SEE THEM MOVE PHYSICALLY CLOSER TO EACH OTHER IN ABOUT 20 SECONDS. UGHHH. DAVID WAS LITERALLY HALF OFF HIS SEAT TO BE CLOSER TO MICHAEL

Hi, Anons! Oh, gosh, I love both of these so much. Putting them together because I think there's a definite connection worth discussing.

So first, Anon #2 I know you must be referring to the new interviews with Michael and David that have come out the past few days (on Screen Rant Plus, Movieweb, etc.). Anon #1 is referring to another clip that just came out today, so I'll put the video up here for anyone who hasn't seen it and then discuss it further down this post:

Anon #2, how beautifully you have phrased your observation, and I could not possibly agree with you more. I've noticed a lot of people saying that Michael and David look sad or miserable, but I don't think that is the case at all. Well, a couple of things: 1) We have no idea when these interviews were recorded, though if I had to guess I'd say within the last month or two, and if that is the case, Michael was still directing/working nonstop on The Way, so that would explain him looking tired (along with running around after two little kids all the time). 2) I'm fairly certain that a large part of them not looking at each other is because they are trying not to give anything away about the second season, and Michael and David both know they won't be able to keep quiet if they make even the tiniest bit of eye contact.

3) I fully agree with your assertion that the lack of staring shows how close Michael and David have become, because to me, it also means that they no longer feel a need to be "on" around each other. They've both spoken in the past about how much they hate doing interviews/photo shoots, and that it became far more bearable when they had each other. That was the case four years ago, and now we've all gone through a global pandemic and some of the darkest times in our lives. That naturally strips away any sense of pretense--seeing someone at their worst, or when they're sick or afraid. I get the feeling that Michael and David have been through all of that and where so many other relationships/marriages fell apart, their relationship is even stronger now as a result. They love and accept each other exactly as they are, and it shows.

Finally, 4) What you said about Michael not staring at David makes my heart ache and seems so true. On the season 1 press tour, he was already in love, but didn't know when they would see each other again. I'm reminded of that one interview where they both suddenly seem to realize the press tour is coming to an end, and they don't know when they'll see each other next:

"Can we just...see each other? For no reason?"

He doesn't even have to ask that question now. Michael doesn't have to keep his eyes on David every moment because he has already memorized his whole face, the stubble on his skin, the softness of his lips. And he knows with perfect certainty that he will never be without David in his life again.

And this all fits in beautifully with the video you've mentioned, Anon #1, because they absolutely do move closer to each other in that video, and not only does it look like they did it completely unconsciously, but David seems to actually mirror Michael:

Michael is the first one to move closer, as we see above, and then right after he does, David moves closer. And again, they're not staring at each other the whole time. nor do they seem to be playing up their "personas"--Michael and David are just being themselves, and their natural inclination is to be close to each other. (Also, Michael's fucking wiggle right after he moves is killing me, because I think he only does that when he's very, very happy...)

Absolutely beautiful. I so appreciate you both sharing your thoughts with me, Anons. Thanks for writing in! xx

[thottie777]

college matt.

part 5.

by the 8th lap around campus you could barely keep your eyes open as you looked down at your phone and read ‘4:00’ on the overly bright screen. you were yawning, looking down at the ground as you strolled around and could feel your eyes constantly shutting until suddenly you collided with someone, hitting them in the shoulder as one of your airpods flew out of your ear, glasses fell to the ground and your bag slipped off your shoulder. “fuck sorry!” you exclaimed, bending down to the floor to pick up your lost items, feeling like velma from scooby doo as your hand scrambled across the cold concrete, pedantically searching for your glasses, the dark night sky really not helping your vision. “here you go y/n” a manly voice muttered, as he passed them to you, giving you a hand up from the floor.

it was matt. he had his red tartan pj bottoms on, a black hoodie and dirty air force, his hair was messy and ruffled and he had his overnight bag with him. you looked away, embarrassed that he saw you look like such an idiot “thanks matt” you said as you took them out of his hand placing them back where they belonged, finally being able to see the details of his face again, the slight stubble that had grown out, the curly wisps that fell over his eyes. you quickly realised you were staring and felt a soft blush hit your cheeks.

“what are you doing out so late y/n, it’s not safe, do you need me to walk you home?” he asked, with a tone of genuine concern in his voice “oh you know, just getting my steps in” you replied letting out a soft laugh, “i thought you and meg were having couple bonding tonight” you questioned, suddenly reminding yourself of their sexual escapades that she had so clearly reminded you of the whole day prior. he lifted his arm to scratch the back of his head, looking down a little “do we have to talk about her right now?” he said, with a slight desperation that implied “y/n can we literally talk about anything else”. you assumed it hadn’t gone to plan and left the topic, “wanna do a lap with me?” you asked already beginning to walk ahead, looking back behind your shoulder to see if he would follow. and of course he did, quickly catching up to your steps. “how could i ever say no to you y/n’ he replied, “you can’t”, you giggled to yourself and he smirked looking down at you, strolling in the crisp, cold night. “take my hoodie y/n, it’s freezing out and you’re wearing nothing”, you were about to deny yet he was already stripping it off his frame, you couldn’t help but stare as it lifted up the t-shirt he wore underneath, revealing his boxer line and snail trail, you looked away quickly so that he wouldn’t see the smile that grew on your face or the rose colour your cheeks began to turn. he handed it over to you and you put it on, instantly warming up and secretly smelling it a bit, admiring the scent of his cologne.

you discussed why pasta is better than pizza, why blonde is one of the best albums ever released and why your major is so obviously harder than his, walking past your house’s front door multiple times. you raced each other from one tree to the other, him beating you every time, and attempted wrestling to prove you did indeed have impressive strength in your arms. at your last attempt of wrestling him, he managed to catch your leg, tripping you up and you both fell down the floor, laying beside each other laughing so hard until your chests hurt.

as you laid beside each other on the freshly mown campus grass, you both turned so that your bodies were facing. noses only inches apart. he lifted his hand over to you, brushing off the strands of hair that had fallen onto you face and were covering your glasses, tucking them behind your ear. your breath hitched and heart began to pound. matt touching you was a sensation you tended to long for, a sensation you had had dreams about. and here he was, by your side, enjoying your company and revealing your face so that he could look at it fully. you wanted to feel how soft his lips were so badly, what the warmth of his breath would feel like, what his hands would feel like wrapped in your hair as you couldn’t get enough of the taste of each others spit.

you both noticed you had kept eye contact for too long and quickly shifted your bodies so you were facing up at the sky. “which star is your favourite?” he asked, breaking the silence, moving his position slightly so that your arms were now grazing each other. “probably that one there” you pointed, as you both stared at a large, glistening star. it was mesmerising. “that’s actually not a star, that’s jupiter you’re pointing at” he said, laughing at his comment a bit “i used to be really into space when i was younger” he admitted, you looked over at him and saw a pink flush at his cheeks ‘god he’s so beautiful’ you thought. but instead, said “you’re such a nerd” pushing his arm, teasing him. “fuck off” he said through a grin, laughing and pulling himself up from the ground, stretching out a hand for you. he helped you up and you began to stroll again.

“okay home time” you said as you began to approach your house’s area for the final time. “fine” he huffed, not willing to admit to you that he doesn’t want this night to be over. “last person to the front door is a loser” you shouted, sprinting as quickly as you could to be the nights winner. you reached the doorstep and felt him drag you back by your waist, lifting you up from the ground so that he could get there first. “i win” he said as he laughed, looking down at you with a smirk, “cheat” you muttered, squishing his cheeks with your cold hands to wipe the smile off his face, but it didn’t work, if anything it made it bigger. “i do actually have to go to sleep now”, you said opening the door and handing him back his hoodie, feeling the cool air hit you immediately, only just realising how cold you were. matts eyes glanced at your hard nipples, they were perky and prominent as the band t was so old it was almost transparent “uhhh- yeah bye y/n”, giving her a wave he turned around quickly and made his way back to his house, panicking as he felt a warm growth in his pants.

when he got home he couldn’t stop his mind from thinking about you, your tight shorts and how they gave you a camel toe, allowing him to see the shape of your pussy lips, your hard nipples and how badly he wanted to feel them in his mouth so he could suck on them. he had to relieve himself. he got up some photos of you that he had collected on his phone from the times he had been over in their dorm, you bent over in the bathroom, you in a thong when you were getting dressed and didn’t think he could see, you with your legs spread as you practiced her yoga on the bedroom floor. he began to wank his cock that was already dripping in precum, quietly moaning your name, stroking faster and faster, imagining it was your hand rather than his, he closed his eyes tight as he felt his cock twitch and came quickly, splattering his phone with his own cum, which left the image of you look like you had his jizz dripping down you, an image he had fantasied about frequently.

[jaywhere]

hello i thought this would be like 3k and it's not so pls have 8.5k of post-x3 rogue/logan about wanting to fuck b4 u die and having literally one option and it's like, super fucking weird actually.

this would probably be the first chapter of 2, idk ill see what im able to finish today ??? pls enjoy the like optimistically 1-2 of u who decide to click on this lmfao

After three months, Rogue eventually finds him washed up in a storm drain.

The sight of Logan with his head slotted into a gutter would be hilarious if the circumstances weren’t so bleak. A few years ago, she would’ve laughed and taken a photo. The sight may have cracked a smile out of her if she hadn’t been so tired, or even if he hadn’t been so damn hard to track down.

Tragically, Rogue doesn’t have the luxury of smiling. Bags tug at her eyes as she stares down at his face. Even under the flickering yellow light of the streetlamp, she can tell his features are completely unchanged, even after five years. His shoulder is bent at an odd angle, white muscle shirt completely soaked through. A thin stream of blood meanders down his temple and into the muddy runoff below.

“Guess that’s to be expected.” Rogue wipes the blood away with leather-gloved fingers.

He’ll wake up soon. The streets are completely deserted at this time of night — almost two in the morning on a Wednesday. No one to call the cops. Beneath the flickering light, the shadows cast by his features appear to lengthen before retreating again.

He’s handsome, at least. Moreso than Rogue remembers, and perhaps far more than deserved given the context. A coil of guilt curls up in her belly.

“Already come this far,” Rogue mutters. With a grunt, she stands, damp ends of her floor-length coat clinging uncomfortably to her ankles. She grabs Logan’s leg above muddy, torn-up boots. His leg hair rustles against her gloved fingers. “No use givin’ up now.”

It’s still drizzling. Ice-cold pricks of rain start to soak her back as she attempts to pull Logan out of the gutter. It seems undignified to leave him there, given what she’s about to ask him to do. Her lower back throbs in protest.

“The hell — whadya weigh, three hundred pounds?” The flickering lights are starting to make her head throb. Runoff trickles past her heeled boots with a soft hiss. When she tugs a final time, her heels slip right out from underneath her.

A frustrated scream leaves her lips before she can stop it. Her ass soaked with muddy rainwater and her hip throbbing from where it’d clipped the curb, she storms back up to Logan’s head and rips off her glove.

His coarse stubble on her fingertips is electrifying. His essence floods her through her along that thin contact of skin on skin. The taste of cheap beer, burn of cigarette smoke in her lungs, knuckles aching after a well-thrown punch, a loneliness that gnaws at the tattered edges of his soul. Virility floods through her.

She counts up to five, taking in slow measured breaths. The glove goes back on as soon as she’s done, leather squeezing tightly at her fingers.

Her back doesn’t hurt.

“Okay, darlin’. Let’s go.” Rogue tosses her hair over her shoulder before scooping Logan up. With her arms under his back and his knees, he’d almost look like a princess — if it weren’t for the way his mouth hung open, head flopping limply over her arm.

Mud and all, she tosses him into the front seat.

“Whew!” Rogue grabs a towel out of the trunk. Wipes off her gloves, her face, and strips off her coat before tossing everything back into the trunk. “I could get used to that. Wow.”

The car’s engine rumbles to life. A thick drizzle coats the windshield. She flips the wipers on and stares out at the little wavering asphalt. The gas station, tattoo shop, and convenience store on this side of the street are all closed. The only sign of life is the bar at the end of the road. Up on the sign, El Apocalipsis is scrawled in yellow neon.

Rogue snorts. “Don’t need a translator to figure out that one, do ya?” She leans over, tapping aggressively at Logan’s cheek. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Gotta tell me where to take ya.”

He doesn’t respond. The seconds tick by. The memory of unfamiliar lips gliding against her own spirals through her mind. She chases it like a feather in the wind — flash of red, the scrape of her stubble against soft cheeks — before it’s gone completely. The windshield is almost completely obscured when she looks back.

“Logan.” She taps his cheek again, harder this time. The sound of leather on skin fills the car. She’d probably stalled his healing when she touched him. A violent frustration fills the empty spaces around her heart. “Wake up.”

This time, dazed eyes flutter open. Pupils the size of saucers stare back at her. Dry lips part. Rogue can’t stop herself from grinning.

“Found ya,” she says. Hadn’t been an easy task, either. Folks a lot smarter than her had been chasing him for years. But Rogue was nothing if not determined. “Where’s home, darlin’?”

Logan blinks. He lurches forward, smashing his hand into the airbag. Rogue shushes him, but doesn’t get too close. Terror, panic, the give of a delicate neck under her broad palms; the sensation of a needle digging into the nook of her elbow. Rogue had learned that one the hard way.

With furrowed eyebrows, Logan’s gaze finally fixes on her. “Kid?”

The smile’s wiped off her face in an instant.

“I’m twenty-six.” She pushes in the clutch and shifts into first with a double thunk. Some part of her hopes Logan notices that she drives stick. “Not a kid.”

Logan stares out the windshield. His chest is heaving with panic. “Where — ?”

“You’re drunk,” Rogue answers. This isn’t going to go well. She can feel it in her bones. But drastic times call for drastic measures. “Pulled you outta the gutter. Where’s home?”

His beard hasn’t been shaved in days. The smell of sweat, beer, and smoke fills up the car. She presses her lips together and tries to cast her own motivations in piecemeal. Sixty percent pathetic desperation, thirty-five percent fear of her own impending death, five percent the nostalgic memory of her schoolgirl crush. Those had been simpler times.

“Truck — “ He wipes at his face, muddy rainwater dripping onto his palm. He turns to look out the back window. “Truck’s about two miles down the road.”

“Cool,” Rogue says. This isn’t going to go over well. It can’t go over well. The car swings in a wide U-turn. At least Logan had been walking in the correct direction when he’d collapsed in the middle of the road.

She drives slow. Logan stares at her, then out the window, then down at his own hands. She wonders if he can feel that she sapped away just a little bit of him. When she reaches, the embers of him are still alive in the back of her mind. A flash of claws sinking through skin, fat, guts, spine shocks her like a jolt of electricity.

And then he’s gone completely.

Silence sets in. Rogue gnaws on her own bottom lip.

“What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t take her eyes off the road. Logan had set up in the middle of nowhere. Water clouds the headlights like dust.

“Um,” Rogue says. She’d imagined this a thousand times. Distracted, driving in the rain, while Logan is drunk had never been one of those scenarios. Lying doesn’t sit right with her, either. “Got somethin’ to ask ya.”

More silence. The wheels churn against broken asphalt.

“Okay.” Logan’s staring at her, expectant.

She coughs. “Best wait until — um, until we get there.”

Another long few beats. Rogue’s heartbeat pounds in her ears.

“Get where?” Logan eventually asks. Rogue pulls off the road, tires scuttling over gravel. The trailer sits demurely behind a cluster of trees. “Oh. Right.”

“And you probably need to sober up, first.”

“Right.” Logan pauses. He stares at her. Even damp, his hair still twists up into little points atop his head. His head bobs up and down five times, lips twitching around a few unrecognizable words. “You’re twenty-six.”

Rogue pulls the keys from the ignition. He’s still staring, waiting for a response. “Yeah?”

His tongue on his lips. Sparse mustache stubble gives way to a thicket of beard on his chin. Rogue wonders if it’s rough on his tongue.

“Why’d you get on the train?”

Rogue squints, wrinkling her nose. It takes her a second to realize what Logan’s asking her.

“Oh.” The realization dawns on her quickly. She still has dreams, sometimes — not so much about the metal cutting through her, but about the horror-struck look on Logan’s face as he’d realized what he’d done. And then the way she’d sucked his full brown eyes completely dry. How she’d left him empty and vacant. “I, um — I almost killed you.”

“How.”

The look he gives her is heavy. Rogue can feel her eyes go shiny with unshed tears. This is humiliating. Her fingers tremble as she grips the wheel, but her voice remains steady.

“I was. You stabbed me. I grabbed you.” Her lungs burn when she breathes in, long and slow. “You were havin’ a nightmare.”

Logan’s fingers pry hers off the steering wheel. The warmth doesn’t soak through the leather.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just had to make sure.”

Rogue nods. She wipes at her eyes. It’s not the memory that’s got her tearing up, but the anxiety twisting that twists in her gut. She hasn’t seen Logan in years. No one has — not really. But the memories of him aren’t going to feel the same after this.

With rain pattering against the ceiling, she squeezes back.

“You wanna come in? Not much, but…” He trails off.

It occurs to Rogue that Logan may not love her anymore. Perhaps now, or perhaps after she tells him why she’s there. With a bit of force, she pulls her own hand away.

“Sure,” she says, cracking open the car door. “That’d probably be best.”

—

“I’d always imagined you livin’ in the mountains.” The trailer’s small, one chair, table about the length of her forearm, a few cabinets, and mattress covered in a threadbare gray sheet. “Livin’ in some li’l cabin. Happier than a pig in poop.”

Logan’s crouched at the edge of the mattress, arms clasped around his knees. “You get more southern since the last time I saw you?”

A smile tugs at the edge of her lips. “I’ve been leanin’ into it. Kinda my thing, now.”

Logan grunts. He pulls out a cigar. “Last one,” he says, shoving it between his lips.

Rogue presses her lips together. “You might,” she starts, as Logan pulls out a lighter. “You might wanna save that.”

His gaze flicks from her, down to the lighter, then back again. “Okay.” He tosses the cigar onto the cluttered countertop next to the sink. “What’re you here for, then?”

His voice is rough. A shiver rattles down Rogue’s spine. She squeezes her own palms between two bony knees, making eye contact with the floor.

“Must be serious.” The tip of his boot taps against the barren floor. It’s not just limited to the floor, Rogue realizes as she tries to look anywhere except at Logan. Dirty plates in the sink, a knife sitting on the windowsill by her arm. Nothing that could be called decoration. It makes her a little sad. “You’ve been followin’ me for a few months.”

Surprise snaps her gaze back up to Logan. “You knew?”

“Knew it was someone.” He leans back onto the heels of his palms. “Didn’t think it’d be you.”

“Oh,” Rogue says. She wonders if he’s happy to see her, or unhappy. If he would’ve stopped if he’d known. If he isn’t thinking anything because he’s still drunk. “Right, yeah. Probably weren’t plannin’ on seein’ me anytime soon.”

Rogue’s heart pounds in her ears. The silence stretches, tugging uncomfortably at her guts.

“You gotta give me somethin’, kid.”

She visibly flinches. “Oh, please don’t call me that.”

Rough leans forward, hiding her face in her hands. From between the cracks in her fingers, she barely catches the way Logan raises his palms up.

“Fine, fine. I get it, you’re not a kid anymore.”

“Just gonna make this harder.”

She breathes out, slow and controlled. She’d been practicing. Same stuff Logan had tried to teach her all those years ago that she’d never taken too seriously. Expectantly, Logan waits.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I’m nervous.”

Rogue had tried this conversation every which way in her mind. Had practiced in front of the mirror. Every intro flips past like a flashcard: I’m sorry I’m asking this, I promise this isn’t about some boy, I’ve missed you, I understand if your answer is no, I can just pretend this never happened if you say no, I know this is inappropriate, but…

What comes out of her mouth is, “The world is looking really not good, Logan.”

She stares at him. Scruffy, handsome, unspeakably sad. When he sighs, bowing his head, she catches a glimpse of the nightstand behind him. A pair of glasses and a little bird sit under the lamp, both cast in red. Her heart aches.

“I’m not fightin’ anyone,” Logan sighs. “I love ya. But I’m done with that. As much as I can be.”

Rogue’s mouth goes dry. “No, no, um. It’s more. It’s personal.” Heart racing, sweat squeezing out of her pores. “Can you just — I just want ya to know I’m sorry that I’m even bringin’ this up. I know — I know that you just wanna be left alone. Which is fine. And I’m honestly feelin’ like a complete yellow-belly right about now, but I came all this way, so I guess I can’t just not ask, or — I mean I could, but…”

The knot in her throat swells up. She wants to cry. Logan growls in annoyance.

“Spit it out.”

Rogue bites into her lower lip. She stares down at her own black boots, scuffed at the tip. The visions that she’d played with, alone in bed in the dead of night, wherein Logan holds her hand, squeezes her shoulders, and lets her rest her head on his chest, feel ridiculous in hindsight. The fantasy that he might even like what she’s about to ask him feels completely childish.

“Um,” Rogue says. Stubbornly, she forces herself to look him in the eye. “I wanna have sex before I die.”

Rain drizzles onto the window. The seconds tick by. Logan stares at her, confused. It takes Rogue a long moment to realize that the complete lack of response means he probably hadn’t understood her in the first place. Humiliation flushes her cheeks bright red.

“Okay,” Logan says. He stands up and digs a plastic cup out of one of the cabinets. “And what, you need my permission?”

Logan turns to her, raising an eyebrow as he holds out the cup. Rogue shakes her head no.

The tap twists on. Rogue watches as he fills the cup, the bare remnants of a logo nearly scratched off the sides. His throat bobs as he swallows, a thin stream of water meandering from the corner of his lip and into unkempt facial hair. Rogue’s jaw flops up and down like a fish.

“No, I mean — with you.”

He chokes. Water backsplashes into the cup. More spills from his mouth, dribbling onto his already-damp shirt. Rogue can’t help but flinch.

“Ha. Ha.” He slams the cup down on his counter. The look he shoots her is genuinely terrifying. “Very funny.”

This may be the worst decision Rogue has ever made.

“I’m not joking?” She doesn’t mean for the words to upturn with hesitation. Biting into her own tongue, she wishes she’d gone for sarcastic, instead. Sitting there quietly, silently begging for his approval, can’t possibly be helping. She leans back, squares her shoulders, and tries again. “I’m not joking.”

Logan’s staring at her like she’s grown a second head.

Raindrops tap on the window. Rogue bites into her own lip, tilting her chin up as she holds Logan’s befuddled gaze. No going back now.

“Why?” Logan asks. His gaze flicks down to Rogue’s gloved hands, her turtleneck, down the length of her gloved legs. “I thought you…”

Lips pressed into a thin line, Rogue nods. “The cure. Yeah. Got about three months outta that.” She laughs, the sound dry and humorless. The look Logan gives her is unreadable. “Hell in a damn handbasket, that was. Don’t know about the others, but when my powers came back — it was like I was a teenager again. Lost all the progress I’d made before.”

She remembers the way Bobby’s lips had gone stiff under hers. The agonizing seconds that had ticked by, chills running down her spine, before she’d realized what was happening. Sobbing uncontrollably over his bed in the basement infirmary. By the time he’d woken up, nearly two months later, the last vestiges of him had finally been fading from her mind.

Rogue had been the one to break up with him. At least another month of crying had followed. The conversation had barely even been necessary — just formalizing what they both had already known.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says.

She’s staring at the floor again. Logan’s wet shoes stare back at her. She had never spoken aloud any of the things she’d learned about Bobby from the facsimile of his consciousness floating in the back of her mind. She’d kept it to herself, even when he started dating Kitty a few months later. The secrets tucked away in the corners of Bobby’s mind weren’t things she was ever supposed to know. They were just a few unspoken bullet points at the end of a long list of Rogue’s regrets.

“Thanks,” Rogue says. “It’s not — it’s not fine, but I’ve made my peace with it.”

Slowly, he crouches down. Ever so slowly, he’s dripping onto the floor.

“Marie,” he says. His voice is rough and steady, painfully serious. Once again, Rogue flinches.

“No, don’t call me that.”

A laugh. “Okay, Rogue.” He holds his hand out. Gently, she places her fingers into his. The leather of her gloves squeaks as he squeezes her. “I hear what you’re saying. And I get what it’s like to be lonely.”

Guilt bubbles up in the pit of Rogue’s gut. He doesn’t need to say that part.

“But you’re young. You’re gonna find someone. You don’t need — ”

Silently, she shakes her head. “It’s not about finding someone, Logan. I’ve found plenty of guys. It’s about not killing ‘em.”

More silence follows. Rogue’s hand is shaking in his.

“I mean. You don’t have to touch someone to — “

Her gaze snaps up to his. Sarcasm spills out of her. “Logan,” she says. At least he has the decency to look sheepish. “Don’t gimme that. It’s not the same. And you know it.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

Frustration overtakes her. “You think I don’t know that? Logan, this is fucking humiliating!” She rips her fingers out of his, scowling at the look of surprise that flashes across his face. “I’m an adult. I say fuck now. Don’t act so shocked.”

The corners of Logan’s lips twitch as if resisting a smile. “You were an adult the last time I saw you, too.”

She remembers. Logan had stood with her at the entrance. She’d almost wanted him to tell her to stay, to tell her how to think. Instead, he’d trusted her to make her own decision.

“I know,” she says. Abruptly, she stands up. Squished up against the cabinets behind him, Logan quickly follows suit. “I’m an adult. So I can make my own decision. And you can say no, if you want. But I’m asking.”

He’s over a head taller than her. Chest to chest, Rogue finds herself tracing out the throb of his pulse as it wanders up his throat. Logan doesn’t say anything.

“Which is — I wanna have sex. With you.” When Rogue’s gaze flicks up, Logan’s peering down at her like a hawk would a mouse. She quickly averts her gaze. “So I don’t die a virgin.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Logan growls. His hands jerk up like he’s going to grab her by the shoulders. Then they stop, falling back to his sides. “Soon. You got time.”

Rogue snorts. “Dunno how much you’ve been payin’ attention, bud, but things aren’t goin’ too well out there. People die every day.”

At the Professor’s funeral, she’d never imagined the following years of her life would be characterized primarily by a series of battles. His headstone had been accompanied in quick succession by Scott’s, and Jean’s. She’d thought the whole affair had been a life-shattering low point. In reality, it had just been foreshadowing.

“I’m not comin’ back,” Logan hisses.

Rogue scowls. She crowds into him, two hands pushing hard on his chest until the cabinets behind him stop the movement. “I’m not asking you to.”

He won’t look at her. She doesn’t know it’s guilt or shame or just plain embarrassment, but in the moment she doesn’t particularly care. A rabid sort of desperation knots her fingers up in the damp fabric of his shirt.

“I just want you to fuck me.” Up on her toes, her mouth hovers only an inch from his chin. So close, but not yet touching. “So I don’t die without knowing what it feels like.”

The warmth of his palms soaks through the thin fabric of her sleeves. To Rogue’s chagrin, he only pushes her away.

“Listen to me,” Logan says. He looks her dead in the eye. Shame makes Rogue’s shoulders curl in on themselves. She’d thought that this many years later, with the curse of an even more extensive library of hurt and grief behind her, Logan wouldn’t make her feel so small anymore. “You do not want that.”

A flash of anger sends Rogue’s fist thumping lightly into his chest. He looks down at her leather-gloved hand, confused.

“Fuck you,” she hisses. She’d been able to taste Remy’s fear every time they kissed, counting down from ten like some perverted version of stop-and-go. “You don’t know what the hell I want.”

Deadpan, Logan meets her eyes. He even bends down just a little so they’re closer to eye level. Rogue wants to slap him.

“You don’t know what you’re signing up for.”

He squeezes her shoulders tightly. She bites her tongue, clenches her fists, and tries to keep her anger in check. It isn’t until she does that it finally occurs to her: at no point during this conversation had he said no.

“Stop trying to convince me to back off.” A strand of white hair swings between them on a pendulum. “I left the others for this. For three months. Dunno how many of my friends are dead now, or if I could’ve saved them if I wasn’t here. I knew that, and I know that now, and I’m here anyways. Because I want this once before I die. So just tell me yes or no.”

Logan is silent. Rogue wants to kill him — as if that’s even really possible.

“Or ask me a fuckin’ question or something. Anything.”

A sigh. “I dunno.”

It’s strange, the way her lips quirk into a grin. “That’s not a no,” she points out.

Logan says nothing. He looks conflicted. Later, she’ll feel guilty — but for the moment, she has to fight not to stamp her feet in glee.

“I’ll just — m’gonna sleep on it.”

He leans forward. It’s just an inch or so, but enough for Rogue to understand that he wants her to step back.

She doesn’t. Instead, she wraps her arms around his chest and squeezes him. He’s damp and warm, chest expanding beneath her cheek as she breathes in. “Thank you,” she says. “For thinking about it.”

“You’re — I’m not gonna say you’re welcome.” Slowly, Logan hugs her back. He smells like sweat. “This is weird.”

With a grin, Rogue replies, “Don’t care.”

—

The next morning, she wakes up to the sound of metal clinking and whispered swearing.

Humidity sticks to her cheeks. The stale, earthy smell of smoke clogs her sinuses. Pinpricks of light shine through a canvass of burgundy. Her back aches from the sunken spot in the middle of the mattress where the springs had long since collapsed.

In one swift motion, she sits up. Long strands of dark hair tickle her shoulders. The blankets fall from around her face, caress the bare skin of her arms, and finally pool in her lap. Logan’s already staring at her, tin mug clutched in his hand. The coffee pot spits and bubbles.

“Sorry. Was tryna…” He pauses, gaze flicking down from Rogue’s face. He turns back to the counter and clears his throat. “Was tryna be quiet.”

Her brain still fuzzy with sleep, Rogue absentmindedly digs her fingers into the stiff muscles in her shoulder. Her palm drops a moment later, tip of one finger catching in the hem of her sports bra. She blinks, remembering all at once that she’d slept in her underwear last night. Her wet clothes are hanging in the shower.

Logan still won’t look at her. When she glances down at herself, her nipples are visible through the thin fabric. She resists the urge to roll her eyes.

With a yawn, Rogue stretches. “Logan?” she asks.

“Hm?” He’s staring at the counter. Trying and failing to act normal. It pisses her off — just a little. It’s hard to imagine Logan acting this way with any other woman. Maybe his mother, or his sister. If he even has either of those.

“Could you grab my duffel? Should be in the backseat.”

Rogue stands, stretching. She turns her back to Logan and spends a long, leisurely moment with her back arched and arms stretched above her head. Trying to give him permission to look. Perhaps it’s selfish of her, but she wants him to think she’s beautiful. More than that, she wants to be able to tempt him.

When she finally bends to pick up her keys from the bedside table, she’s careful not to disturb the shades or the little bird. She turns quickly, lobbing the fob in Logan’s direction. He catches them in the center of his palm even though his gaze stays fixed on the countertop.

Rogue tilts her head. She wonders how good his peripheral vision really is.

“Got it.”

He practically runs out the door. Maybe she should lay off. Give him some space. She had been his student. They’d met when she was seventeen. He’d done his best, for at least a couple of years, to step into the gaping hole the separation from her parents had left. That’s not the kind of relationship that time or distance washes away. Rogue knows, as much as she might want to, she can’t just wish it away.

Crouching down next to the side table, she fixes Logan’s mementos in her sight. If she’s being honest, she doesn’t want her relationship with Logan to change. Suspects he doesn’t want that, either. The sun reflects off red lenses. She knows they aren’t Scott’s real glasses — the coating isn’t nearly opaque enough, and the Ray-Ban logo on the side is an obvious giveaway. And the little red bird — a Robin, Rogue thinks — doesn’t seem like something Jean would ever have owned. They’re just tokens. Reminders.

Logan doesn’t want to forget. She understands.

The door creaks open, followed closely by the thump of her bag onto the floor. Rogue turns. Logan’s pulling the carafe out from the machine.

“Coffee?” he asks. “Black’s the only option.”

The smell makes Rogue’s mouth water. She unzips her bag. “Yes, please.”

Logan had insisted that she take the little twin mattress and Logan would sleep in the truck. Rogue had protested — she could sleep in her car, or curl up in the little chair by the table if that was too cold. Logan had muttered that he wasn’t gonna be sleepin’ much, anyway, before leaving the camper. The door had slammed behind him.

The process of getting dressed is always somewhat elaborate for Rogue. Briefly, she considers changing her underwear, but — Logan would probably just book it again.

Her shirt goes on first, thumbs hooked through the holes at the end. Collar rolled up to her jaw. Thin tights from her toes up to her knees, then jeans over that. The billowy ends of her shirt get tucked in. Tighten her belt to keep everything together. She pulls on a pair of ankle socks. Then, finally, she slides on her gloves.

Logan is watching her now. He leans against the counter, sipping his coffee. She re-packs her bag until only her clear makeup bag is left. It sits in her lap for a moment before she raises it up to her chest.

“Am I using this?” she asks.

Logan stares. “Huh?”

She huffs. “It’s makeup, darlin’.”

“I know what it is.”

Rogue puts a hand on her hip. “Great. So, am I wearin’ some?” When she doesn’t immediately receive a response, she continues. “Because I don’t need to get dolled up to enjoy the company of my Honda Civic.”

Logan’s jaw is tight. He continues sipping at his coffee anyways. “You don’t need to do anything on my account.”

“Logan.” Rogue glares. She snatches up her hairbrush, running it through the length of her hair a few times. It feels like he’s playing games with her. “Are we fucking or not?”

He manages to keep the drink in his mouth this time. Only coughs, setting the mug down onto the countertop. This time, Rogue actually allows herself a quiet snicker.

“Just — “ Logan sighs, rubbing at his face. He points at the chair. “Come sit down.”

She does, but not before grabbing her coffee cup. She lets her shoulder brush up against him and swears she feels him shiver.

The single chair creaks underneath her. She stares up at Logan and tries to hold onto her own confidence. This is going to work, she tells herself. There’s no way she came all this way for nothing. Logan had always been a softie.

“This isn’t because of some boy.”

The question makes Rogue laugh. It isn’t even phrased as a question, she realizes, but it sounds just like something Logan would’ve said to her years ago. “No,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I haven’t been with anyone in three years.”

Logan nods. “The cure,” he starts. It occurs to Rogue that he’d probably spent last night coming up with the questions, preparing to rattle down the list. The thought makes her want to roll her eyes. “Know it’s hard to get now, but you could — “

“It only works once,” Rogue says. The coffee is so acidic it makes her salivary glands seize up. She swallows anyways. “I’ve tried. And don’t even think of saying anything about the fact that I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity. I know.”

In fact, she’d tried. She’d held hands with Bobby every day, kissed him at every opportunity, told him she was ready. Rogue had wanted to live her life. At the time, she’d attributed Bobby’s reluctance to the fact that they had all the time in the world. Rogue had thought that she was rushing things. She wouldn’t find out otherwise until she nearly killed him.

Logan hesitates before delivering the next question. Rogue is grateful for the moment to try and counsel herself out of her own bitterness. It’s not like Bobby had known those few months would be her only chance.

“Have you actually tried to make this work. With some guy who’s not…” Logan trails off, gesturing wordlessly.

Rogue fills in the blanks. Somehow, leaving it unspoken is worse. “My former teacher? And lowkey father figure?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she immediately changes her mind.

Logan defates like a balloon. His lips form a thin line. “Yeah?” he says.

Buying time, Rogue takes another sip of her coffee. She pretends, desperately, that this isn’t weird. “What do you mean, make it work?”

Logan’s face is red. From his nose to the tips of his ears. It won’t be until a long while later that she’ll recall this moment and understands the way Logan forges ahead as a testament to how much he loves her. In the moment, she’s just mortified.

“You understand that you can. Like the — Jesus fuckin’ Christ. You know what a condom is, right?”

Initially, Rogue wants to ask Logan if he’s stupid. Instead, she lets the question hang for a long moment. Takes another sip of bitter coffee. “They never let you teach sex ed, did they?”

“God, no.”

More coffee. It almost overpowers her own bitterness.

“That’s good. Yes, Logan. I know what a condom is. It doesn’t work like that.” Briefly, she considers going into detail: exactly what parts of a man’s body covers, the humiliation of attempting to expose only the most intimate parts of herself, the way fabric or latex would shift between two moving bodies. She keeps her mouth shut and spares both of them. “Are we done with the fifth degree, now?”

Embarrassment stains her cheeks. Logan isn’t faring much better.

“I just — I need to ask. I know you’re smart. You just gotta let me ask.”

His knuckles are white where he grips the countertop. She tries to keep a lid on her own excitement as she processes Logan’s words. Briefly, she imagines what it would feel like to have those broad palms wrapped tightly around her hips.

“Fine,” she says. Another sip of coffee. Logan seems to have completely given up on his.

He takes in a deep breath. “This isn’t some — “ he starts, before giving up. She’s can’t recall ever seeing him look this nervous. “If we do this. After, we’re gonna pretend it never happened.”

The if is spoken quietly. Rogue feels her pulse quicken. “Obviously.”

Logan’s tongue is pink on his lips. “You can’t come back with feelings later.”

Rogue narrows her eyes. The mug sits defensively in front of her mouth. “You can’t come back with feelings later.”

Silently, Logan’s thick eyebrows furrow in doubt.

“Now you see how ridiculous that sounds.”

This is not, apparently, the response that Logan is hoping for. He crosses his arms, expression shifting from an open anxiety to stern disapproval. The kind of look a teacher gives a student. Rogue’s heart drops into her ass.

“I’m not an idiot. I know you had a crush on me.”

She bites her lip. “When I was eighteen. You were my — you saved my life. Multiple times, depending on how you look at it. And even without that, it would’ve been normal. At that age.”

She sounds defensive. Panic snakes through her veins.

“And that’s not why you’re doing this now.”

She sets the half-empty mug down on the table. A fat drop of coffee sloshes over the edge and streams down the side. Embarrassing honesty time, she supposes.

“Logan,” Rogue says. “I’m a person. I know you’re hot. And obviously the fact that you saved my life, and were nice to me, and looked out for me, and gave a shit about me when I was a kid makes me like you more. But it also makes this exponentially more weird. This is weird. I’m embarrassed. If I had literally any other options, I would take them.”

The urge to cry takes her by surprise. She wants to whisper to herself that it’s not a big deal. She wants to walk out the door of Logan’s little trailer, get in her car, and never come back. She wants for the first time she runs into him to be a few years from now, when mutants can live safely, when he’s come to terms with the state of the world, when she’s unlocked the key to controlling her abilities that the Professor had always assured her must be locked away inside her somewhere.

Rogue wants that future. The one where she could hug him and thank him for always believing in her. They could drink a beer and remember the good old days. But she knows by even asking, she’s ruined that — let alone if she actually survives the next few years.

“It’s like — it’s not the romance. Or the loneliness.“ She starts talking without Logan even asking for more. She doesn’t even look at him. “Like, I’ve had romance. It’s nice, you know, but it’s kind of hard to lose yourself in that when you know they’re always afraid you’re gonna kill ‘em. And then, like, you’d think it was about the orgasms, at least, but — “

Tears cling to leather-tipped fingers as she swipes them under her eyes. As mortified as she feels, Logan stays serious. She laughs.

“I know how to get myself off. Very well, thank you. It’s literally just the experience. Like, I don’t feel like I have to. I don’t feel like I’m incomplete without it.” She sniffs, loudly. All at once, she’s grateful she hadn’t put any makeup on. “Life just fucking sucks, you know? I just wanna get laid once before I die. Without bein’ afraid I’m gonna send some poor fuck to an early grave.”

Rogue feels sick. She stares down at the table, unable to bring herself to look at Logan. She’d managed to hold it together last night. It’s mortifying, how much she cares about this. It feels almost like she’s guilt-tripping Logan, one of the only people in the world who could ever give her this, except for the fact that the tears that fall down her cheeks are completely genuine.

She’d given up on casual intimacy, then on dating entirely. Giving up on having sex shouldn’t be the hardest part. Perhaps it’s that part of her feels like Bobby stole her one opportunity to have this. Or perhaps it’s just symbolic — one last sacrifice in a long line of sacrifices.

Pathetically, Rogue sniffles. Logan remains silent. She wipes at her own tears. Logan must think of her as even more of a child, now. Crying over the idea of being rejected. Unable to deal with the reality of disappointment. A sharp flare of indignation lashes at her tongue.

“Dude, if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to search for some excuse!” When she finally glances up, Logan’s expression is much softer than she had imagined it would be. A sage kind of sadness crinkles the corners of his eyes. “You can just say if you don’t want to. I get if it’s too weird, or you’re not attracted to me, or taking some sad girl’s virginity just — sounds like a bummer! It’s fine. Just tell me — “

“Stop.”

Rogue does.

Logan drops to his knees in front of her. He pulls her hands away from her face. A protest rises and quickly dies when she sees his thumb approaching. Muddy, unrefined empathy sloshes across the open connection between them. The dull ache in her back fades.

His presence lingers even as he pulls his thumb away, slick with her tears.

“Not good with words,” he says. The warmth of his fondness radiates through her like a hug. As it fades, Rogue squeezes her own elbows, desperate for more. “You get it?”

She nods.

Logan’s thumbs are damp on the inside of her knees. “There are conditions,” he says. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it my way.”

Rogue sniffles. Logan reaches over her and places a small stack of napkins next to her elbow. Humiliated, she blows her nose.

“Kinda selfish, isn’t it?” She’s trying to joke.

Logan glares at her.

“I mean, how many times have you had sex? A few hundred?”

His eyebrows raise, lips quirking up. “Try thousands.”

It’s funny, at least a little. Rogue doesn’t know why, but the thought makes another sob shake through her. “You motherfucker,” she hisses, laughing at herself even as tears spill over her lashline. “I should call you a slut or somethin’, but hell if I’m not jealous.”

Logan actually laughs this time. His thumb traces out little circles on the inside of her knee. “Just means I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, regular cock in the henhouse.” Rogue rolls her eyes and ignores the confused look Logan gives her. She wipes her nose again. “What’re the conditions?”

Logan clears his throat. “Well, I gotta be gone by tomorrow morning. So we’re gonna do it today.” He leans back, scratching at the back of his neck. There’s something strangely endearing about how hard he’s thinking. “I can’t really take you anywhere.”

He doesn’t have to elaborate. Rogue already knows. Mutants are safe these days, and Rogue doesn’t quite blend in. Instead, she asks, “Why would you need to take me anywhere.”

A flicker of frustration flashes in the quirk of Logan’s lips. “It’s your first time. Gonna feed you first. At bare minimum.”

Rogue can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, what happened to no romance?” Logan looks at her like she’s stupid. Maybe she is. Blithely, she decides she doesn’t care. “Or do you always take your floozies out to dinner before you let ‘em take a ride?”

She keeps cackling even as Logan continues to glare at her. “‘S’not romance. It’s common decency.”

“Whatever you say, sugar.” She raises her hands. “Your choice. I don’t care ‘bout that part.”

“What part do you care about?” Rogue frowns in confusion. “What — I mean, is there anything that you wanna do?”

“Oh,” Rogue says. Logan’s sitting on the floor now, embracing the absurdity of the situation. She lets herself admire him. The curvature of his chest, bulge of his arm muscles, way his waist narrows down so thin it almost looks delicate. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him. Hadn’t thought about it, plenty of times before. She wouldn’t be here, otherwise. “I want you to be on top.”

Logan’s jaw drops. It only takes him a second to get his composure back, teeth clicking shut, but the initial shock had been impossible to miss. “That is not a good idea.”

She frowns. “Why not? That’s, like, the most normal way to have sex. The guy goes on top.”

Rogue knows this because she’s seen it in movies, primarily. She only realizes the words sound ridiculously uncouth as they come out of her mouth. Thankfully, Logan completely ignores that. “Because if I pass out, I weigh three hundred pounds. You’re not gonna be able to get me off.”

“I will,” Rogue laughs. She watches the gears turn in Logan’s head. “Get your mind outta the gutter. You forgot how my powers work. How do you think I got you in my car?”

Logan freezes. “Oh,” he says. “That does — yeah, that does make sense. Okay.” He stands, remarking almost absentmindedly to himself, “I mean, you’re only gonna do it once, might as well do it every which way, right?”

The comment catches her completely off-guard. Rogue imagines herself perched atop Logan’s lap, bent over like a dog in front of him, her back pressed up against the windows, her legs wrapped around his hips while he —

A broad, bare palm in front of her face. “Touch me.”

“Huh?” Rogue asks.

Logan wiggles his fingers. “Gotta know how much I can take. Come on.”

“Oh,” she says. She starts to peel off her glove. “Most people can take about twenty seconds before they pass out. Thirty seconds before they — well. It’s bad.”

She hesitates. Her fingers hover over his.

“I’m not most people.”

Logan doesn’t hesitate as he interlocks their fingers. He barely even reacts, the veins on his forehead throbbing as the connection flies open like a floodgate. She sees herself through Logan’s eyes, feels herself try to focus on the counter backsplash only to find her attention drawn right back to the one place she’s trying to avoid. The fabric of her green sports bra stretches over her chest as she arches, replaced by her own narrow waist, long legs, heart-shaped ass when she turns. She bites into her lip, cock twitching as she tears her gaze away.

A smile cracks across Rogue’s lips. With Logan flooding her mind, she dives deeper.

In the recesses between her blinks, she sees visions of herself. Beneath him, on top of him, beside him, feels the disembodied sensation of a woman stretching around his cock, all echoed through the walls of memory and imagination. The guilt comes in secondary. The details are fuzzy, staring down at the top of her little green hood with a younger version of herself curled up against her chest. The memory of the child she had been throbs painfully in her mind like an open wound, protectiveness and arousal and the insidious gnawing of self-hate —

Breathless, Rogue’s gaze flicks up to Logan. A thin stream of sweat meanders down his temple. Other than that, he looks fine.

“Have you been keeping count?” she asks.

“Three minutes,” he says. His voice is a little rough. “Thought you said you got stronger.”

She can’t help but laugh. He grins back. The connection swings open wide, the essence of Logan trickling over her skin, her muscles, her bones. She breathes in and hears the wind rocking between the trees outside, feels the camper sway side to side, smells the earth dried in the treads of Logan’s boots.

“I’ve been practicing.” Carefully, she stands up. She squeezes Logan’s hand like a vice. The acrid, bitter aftertaste of the coffee suffuses her mouth. She wrinkles her nose. “Can’t believe you drink that stuff with super taste.”

Logan squeezes her hand back. More firm than he ever has before, Rogue thinks, but the pressure doesn’t even approach the point of pain. “I got super taste?”

Surprised, Rogue laughs. “Guess you’d never know any different, would you?” She inches closer in the narrow space, pressing the back of Logan’s hand between her breasts. “Think about me?”

She’d only ever received flashes before. The impression of herself through Bobby’s eyes, the itch in Remy’s fingers to touch her. But Logan’s thoughts are almost perfectly crystallized as they shudder from his body and into hers. She can match them to the movements of his eyes: a fierce rush of protectiveness as their eyes meet, just a favor as he stares at her mouth, a whispered but that dissolves into dogged arousal as his gaze skates over the line of her shoulder.

A soft noise of pleasure threatens to rise in the back of Rogue’s throat. Her heart is pounding as she leans forward and nuzzles her cheek into Logan’s chest.

He wants her. Rogue’s free hand twists into the fabric of his shirt. His arousal reverberates clearly through the caverns of her mind, touching even the deepest parts of her as she soaks him up like a sponge. The pangs of guilt and uncertainty only make it feel that much more real.

“Logan.” She speaks into the fabric of his shirt. It isn’t until the words reach her ears that she realizes how desperate she sounds.

The arm that wraps tightly around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, is more than enough reassurance that she’s fine.

“Feels good,” Rogue mutters. She could lose herself in this. Imagines standing there forever. She could linger in the warmth of Logan’s arms, the safety of being protected, the satisfaction of being wanted.

“‘Sposed to.” Logan’s lips are warm against her scalp.

It isn’t until a gnawing pain starts to rattle down the connection that she snaps back to reality.

Rogue jumps back, and the connection connection slams shut like a door slammed in her face. Her back hits the chair with enough force to send the whole camper rocking.

“Why’d you stop?” Logan asks. He’s sweating.

Rogue’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Logan’s still inside of her. Might be forever, with that amount of contact. She has no idea if it’s a function of time or the life force or something else entirely — the soul. Memories of herself flicker across her mind’s eye, crystal clear.

“You were hurting.”

Much less defined, a flash of red. A smile. The fierce burning of love in the pit of her stomach. An ache that rattles her bones.

The silver of Logan’s claws flashes in the morning light. “I’m always hurting.”

Breath knocked from her lungs, Rogue can only stare. She watches Logan’s veins retreat back into his arms, pallor quickly following suit. She hadn’t absorbed as much of him as she would’ve someone else. The memories are easy to push to the back of her mind.

“You get people’s memories, too, right?”

It isn’t until Logan speaks that Rogue realizes she’s been staring off into space. Logan’s still settling inside of her.

“Kind of,” she says. “Usually it’s — they’re more like feelings. And I can ignore it if I need to. Like a voice in the back of my head.”

Logan nods. His claws are the last to retreat, slotting back into his knuckles. She searches for the memory and, for a split-second, feels the fullness of her own forearm. Her eyes go wide.

“You okay?” he asks.

She laughs. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine. I could go longer.” Logan shakes his head. “Try again in a second.”

Rogue nods. The phantom sensation of her knuckles splitting open slices down her arm — very deliberately, she pushes the thought away. She thinks about herself, instead. Logan’s palms on her knees. Wiping away her tears.

“How long does it stay?” Logan asks.

“Huh?”

He crouches down on the floor in front of her. “Me.”

“Oh,” she says. The warmth of him pulses in the back of her mind. Skin to skin, she wants to touch him again. Arousal throbs low in her stomach. “Depends, but — usually for a while.”

“Anything you see — “

She looks down at her own knees. “I know. I won’t tell anymore, or — ask you about it.”

Logan exhales sharply through his nose. She can feel the way the air moves across her bare hand. “You might see some bad shit. Things you can’t handle. Don’t go lookin’ for it. And if — “

“I’ll tell you to stop,” Rogue says. “If I need.”

Silence hangs. “Good,” Logan says eventually. “Yeah. Good.”

Rogue watches his face. Chapped lips pursed in a frown, crow’s feet pinched in worry, eyes fixed unwaveringly on hers. The old, broken essence of him settles into the back of her mind.

“Try again?” he asks, extending his bare palm to hers.

Rogue hesitates. She bites her lip, then asks, “Kiss me?”

Quietly, Logan snorts. Rogue almost feels embarrassed, wondering if the request is too romantic. His fingers run through her hair, then brush the shell of her ear before curling around the nape of her neck. Rogue’s anxiety settles like sand on the beach.

Once again, it’s Logan’s touch — dry lips against her own — that reassures her. Everything is fine.

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts days 71-75

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here.

Day 70 (part two) here

***

56. "Patience, love. We're getting there."

83. "Stop fucking teasing me and get to it already."

104. "Stop glaring at me like you don't enjoy me teasing you."

***

When Tim woke up the next morning, Damian was still there, dark lashes fanned down across his cheeks. Tim watched him for a moment, propped up on one elbow. Unlike a lot of other people, Damian didn't look younger when he slept. The tightness around his eyes never quite faded enough for him to look anything other than intense.

He also had no intermediate steps between sleep and wakefulness. One second he was breathing deep and even, the next his eyes were fully open and he was meeting Tim's gaze head-on. Hard to say if that was a remnant of League training or Bruce’s.

Tim let the silence stretch for a few moments just to see if Damian would break it, but then gave up. "Good morning." He gave a lock of hair swooping over Damian's forehead a gentle tug. "Did you sleep okay?"

Damian nodded. "I always sleep better when I'm here." His face turned scarlet right after he spoke, like he'd realized what he said too late.

Tim smiled, delighted with the sentiment and the embarrassment both. "Then I guess you'll have to do it more often." He kissed the tip of Damian's nose, which wrinkled reflexively. "I sleep better when you're here, too."

Damian's lips tightened. "It would be difficult to explain to Father if I did stay more often. I can tell he has an inkling that something out of the ordinary is going on between us, though I don't think he's chosen to investigate as of yet. You weren't as subtle as you could have been at the hotel the other night."

Tim shrugged, unrepentant. "He probably just thinks we were arguing in there. If he did somehow make the connection, it wouldn't be the end of the world. There's literally no way he'll tell either of us if he does figure it out, because he'd rather die than talk about it."

Confusion ghosted across Damian's face, so quickly Tim would have missed it if he hadn't been looking. "You wouldn't mind?"

Grasping his hand between them, Tim lifted Damian's knuckles to his lips. "No," he said, and left it at that.

It was like something snapped. The next thing Tim knew he was flat on his back and Damian was straddling his waist. His morning erection jutted against the fabric of his underwear. He stripped off his shirt a second later.

Tim took a second to graze his palms over the pretty musculature bared to his sight. Tilting his head back to see Damian's face, he gave him an appreciative smirk. "Is there something you wanted?"

Damian combed through Tim's hair with his fingers. It was an excellent tactic for diverting his gaze but it also felt nice, so Tim didn't call him out on it. "There is. But I'm not sure—" He swallowed, face gone completely expressionless.

Sometimes Tim forgot how young he was, and then something like this happened and he was reminded all over again. He rubbed Damian's thighs, comforting strokes meant to reassure. "Hey. It's okay. Remember? If I don't want to, all that'll happen is that I'll say no. It doesn't mean I'm saying no about you."

Damian looked a little less apprehensive, but he kissed Tim instead of speaking. Well, Tim wasn't going to complain about that. Wordlessly coaxing him into overlaying his whole body, Tim relaxed under his weight. Damian's stubble had filled in even more and it was going to leave beard burn all over Tim's face, but right now it felt more like a trophy than an irritation.

He waited till his lips were sore and his cheeks stung before pulling back just enough to talk. "Not that I couldn't kiss you for hours, but you never asked for whatever it is you're thinking of." He kissed the tip of Damian's nose again, enjoying the way it made him blink. "Just ask, Dami, it's all right."

"May I fuck you?"

Tim wrinkled his forehead, mystified. Jeez, with all the build-up, he'd been expecting something kinky. Not that he was opposed regardless. "I—sure? Wouldn't be the first time."

Damian's cheeks turned redder. "No, that is—just like this, I mean. Face to face."

Ah. He was worried it might be too intimate. Tim kissed him again, then once more for good measure. "Yeah, of course. I like seeing you."

Instead of answering, Damian kissed his way down Tim's chest and stomach, lavishing his belly with attention as he went. He seemed to really like the shape of Tim's abs, nipping rough outlines around them and licking the ache away. He kept the pressure firm enough not to tickle, and Tim found himself clutching his shoulders, trying not to writhe. How could such a simple thing make him feel like his heart was trying to beat its way free of his chest? Maybe it was the focus Damian displayed, like he was determined to demonstrate his attraction to every bit of skin he could reach. Or maybe it was the fact that Tim wasn't denying how happy that same focus made him.

Damian paid his thighs the same tribute, tracing the path of the muscles there with tongue and teeth. Tim's knees turned to jelly and his legs spread in involuntary invitation. Damian ignored that and avoided Tim's cock entirely, smacking Tim's hand away when he went to grip it himself. "Patience. We're getting there."

Something about the remonstration made Tim obey, though not without a groan of protest. "Stop fucking teasing me and get to it already."

Damian's huff of laughter tickled the hair on his inner thigh. "Stop glaring at me like you don't enjoy me teasing you."

"Ugh. Fine." Tim submitted with pretended ill-grace, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling down at him. "If you don't want me to be impatient you shouldn't feel so good. It's your fault."

"Apologies." Damian kissed his kneecap in mock contrition. "I'll endeavor to feel worse."

Tim rubbed the side of his foot against Damian's hip, curving his leg against Damian in a pseudo-embrace. "You're failing so far."

Damian sat back on his haunches and captured Tim's hurt ankle, lifting it so he could place a careful kiss on the sole of his foot. Tim shivered. Despite his newly formed commitment to pursuing Damian, the level of feeling implied in the gesture felt scarily meaningful.

If Damian noticed, he gave no sign, reaching for the lube on the nightstand and pouring it onto his fingers. He took his time stretching Tim out, watching his face with avid interest that had Tim hiding behind his hands as he moaned helplessly.

Even when he slid inside him, Damian never stopped gazing at him. Tim wasn't sure what he was looking for, or what he observed, but he seemed fascinated, clutching Tim's wrists and pulling them down to either side of his head to bare his expressions. He still came first, throbbing deep inside in a way that had Tim arching against him, looking for stimulation until Damian finally grasped his cock and stroked him to an orgasm that made him go rigid with pleasure.

After they got cleaned up, Damian got back into bed with Tim, though on top of the covers since they were both radiating heat, and asked, "Can we sleep a little longer?"

He wanted to stick around? "Of course," Tim replied, flattered.

Damian turned his back to him, curled up into a ball, and scooted back to be the little spoon. Tim kissed the nape of his neck and pulled him close, feeling his body go limp with sleep.

Tim was well on his way to the same state, but then a barely-there shadow on Damian's hip caught his eye. Inexplicable dread settled into his chest like a rock. Looking closer, he saw that it was one of a set, four splayed parallel to each other and then a fifth almost symmetrical to the top one. Just to torture himself, Tim reached to fit his own fingers over them, though it was a serious stretch and the remnant bruises were wider.

"Son of a bitch," he whispered, flushing with sudden, unthinking rage. He scooted down and looked at the other hip, only to find a matching set on that side as well.

Tim flung himself onto his back and swallowed down nausea while Damian slept peacefully on, breath deep and undisturbed.

day 76 here