#is that too much to ask the universe for?

[flowersforbucky]

lavender and velvet

logan howlett x reader - 2.5k words

Every time he kisses you, he's more and more convinced - this is it. This is why he's been alive for two hundred years and he's still here. This is why he was drug through hell and back and traveled from a different universe to be here.

or - logan's obsessed with two things: your favorite perfume and your panties

warnings/tags: worst!logan, neighbor!reader, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (female receiving), language, pet names, not much plot but lots of fluff, dual pov for logan & reader, reader is afab, no use of y/n, 18+ only mdni

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“How is it that you smell as sweet as you look, huh? How's that possible?”

Logan had been alive a long, long time. Two hundred something odd years of life and he'd never smelled anything quite as addictive and intoxicating as you. From the first time that he ran into you in the stairwell of the apartment building that he’d just recently moved into with your next door neighbors, he was drawn to you.

It turned out to be sheer good luck that the elevator was down and he had to take the stairs that day - sheer good luck that you turned a corner too quickly, unable to properly see the stairs you were trekking up with groceries piled high in your arms. Sheer good luck that you allowed him to help you carry the large paper bags the rest of the way back to your apartment.

Dreamy. That's the best word to describe you. Warm vanilla and lavender with undertones of honey. He'd bottle you up if he could, just to smell you on his skin when you're not around.

“Took a shower for ya,” you tease in an airy voice from above him. You lean against the edge of the kitchen countertop in your apartment with Logan kneeling on the linoleum flooring directly in front of you.

“Even sprayed a bit of that perfume you seem to like. I hope you feel special.”

He has his hands splayed across your inner thighs, spreading your legs open just far enough for him to trail his nose along the soft, bare skin of your thighs. From your point of view, he's concealed by the flowy fabric of your mini skirt, but the light scratches of his beard against your skin have you hyper-aware of every movement that he makes. He nips a quick but sharp bite into the tender flesh before emerging from your skirt.

“Special?” He chuckles as he looks up at you from his position on the ground. His hazel eyes crinkle around the edges in that way you've grown to adore when he smiles.

He suddenly begins to stand, locking his palms around the backs of your thighs and hoisting you up around his waist as he stands.

“Gotta be if I'm holding you like this.”

He holds you tight against him as he walks backwards to the worn loveseat that came with your apartment, and plops down. Your skirt billows across his lap, leaving only the thin fabric of your panties and his too-thick jeans separating your center from his. His bulge is solid beneath you, even within the confines of his pants you’re able to feel the hard outline of his erection rut against your clothed core.

You drag yourself across the defined swell in his jeans, trying to ease the growing ache in your lower belly with any amount of friction. He’s as desperate for it as you are, this much is clear by the way his eyes roll back into his head and his fingers dig into the meat of your ass.

“Stop teasing me, sweetheart,” he grunts as you shove your hands up his flannel and trail your fingers up the expanse of his chiseled chest. “You know I’ve been going crazy without you the last few days.”

“Is that right?” you ask, rocking back and forth along his erection, earning another rough squeeze to your ass. “Sounds like you need to have a talk with our dear friend Wade about getting himself into trouble, if it means he’s going to be dragging you away from me for days at a time.”

He smirks up at you, satisfied with the knowledge that the mere three days apart was as miserable for you as it was for him. He removes his hands from your ass, bringing one to your middle back and one to the back of your neck. He cups the side of your throat in his large hand and pulls you closer until your chest is flush with his and your mouth hovers just above his own. He can smell the spearmint from your toothpaste and the watermelon flavored chapstick that he’d come to love the taste of.

“Are you trying to tell me that you missed me?”

You hum against his mouth, your lips grazing his just enough to leave him practically mewling beneath you. He thought about your touch, your taste, and your scent the entire time he had been out of town. Now that you're sitting on his lap and grinding your hips so sweet against him with your mouth almost but just not quite touching his, he feels like he's going to combust if you don't meld your lips to his in the next three seconds.

“Of course I missed you, Logan.”

That's all he needs to hear you say in your sweet voice before he's pulling your face the remainder of the way to his and capturing your lips in his.

Every time he kisses you, he's more and more convinced - this is it. This is why he's been alive for two hundred years and he's still here. This is why he was drug through hell and back and traveled from a different universe to be here.

You remove your hands from underneath his flannel, bringing your fingers to the top button. You make quick work of snapping each one undone as you continue to move your lips with his, only pulling away when you've popped open the very last button.

You drink him in as you push the checkered fabric off of his shoulders and down his bulky arms. He leans forward enough to allow you to pull the shirt off of him entirely, tossing it somewhere behind the two of you in the small space of your living room.

From the defined muscles of his chest to the soft, dark hair that litters his abdomen down past the waistband of his jeans, you think he's got to be the hottest fucking man you've ever laid your eyes on. And for some reason, he's here. In your apartment, kissing you senseless while you straddle his painfully hard erection.

He brings his hands to the tail of your shirt and begins to pull the fabric upwards. You raise your arms, letting him tug it over your head to join his somewhere on the floor. You’re left in only your skirt, and with Logan looking like he could eat you alive.

He grasps a breast in the palm of his large hand and brings his mouth to the other, encapsulating your already hardened nipple in his lips. He swirls his tongue around it before pulling away with a sharp tug of his teeth.

“Now who’s teasing?” You ask breathily, earning a low chuckle from him. You yelp in surprise as he quickly stands from his position on the loveseat, effortlessly lifting you with him. Your legs lock around his abdomen as he ushers you both away from the couch that's too small to have you in the way that he needs you right now.

He follows the path to your bedroom that he's come to know well in your time together, kicking the door closed behind him with his boot. He places you on the mattress, where you lay with your bare back against the cool satin sheets as you watch him shed his boots, quickly followed by his jeans.

Normally, Logan likes to take his time undressing you himself. But you're impatient - you haven't seen him in three days, and those three days felt like a lifetime for you. So while he's shimmying himself out of his pants, you tug your skirt down your thighs and calves until it hits your bedroom floor, leaving you in just your panties.

He groans at the sight laid before him, falling to his knees where your legs dangle over the side of the bed. You can't help but laugh at the dramatic display - as if he hasn't seen you in a similar state countless times already.

“You look so cute in these I almost don't want to take them off of you,” he says in a husky voice as he traces his index finger down the front of the baby pink, velvet fabric of your underwear, starting at your pubic area and going over your clit and down to your hole.

Goosebumps litter across your skin as you resist the urge to clench your thighs around his hand. You wish he'd unsheath his claws and snip the damn thing off of you.

“I think I'd like cuter without them.” You almost cringe at how fucking whiney you sound, but he laughs.

He brings both hands to the waistband of the panties, hooking his fingers into them and then pausing. “Promise you'll wear these for me again sometime real soon, and I'll take them off of you.”

“God,” you groan, letting your head fall back against the mattress in exaggerated annoyance. “Promise. I promise I'll wear them again soon. Now please–”

He yanks the plush fabric away from your cunt, letting it join your skirt and his jeans on the floor.

“You're right,” he sighs. “You do look even cuter without them.”

And with that he's hooking his arms beneath your thighs and pulling you to his mouth.

He moans into your pussy as soon as he tastes you. He just can't help himself - he thinks you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted and he wants you to know it. And if he happens to be so vocal that sometimes his roommates hear it next door, then so be it.

Your hands reach for his hair, your fingers tugging on the short brown locks in the way that he likes, spurring him on as his lips suction around your clit. He brings a singular finger to your hole, swirling it around in your slick before easing it inside you. Your walls instantly clench around the digit, reminding him of the tight, wet heat that he can't wait to sink his cock into.

You buck your hips against his mouth as he begins to slide his index finger in and out of you at a torturously slow speed.

“Logan, please,” you whimper, raising your ass off the bed in a desperate attempt for more friction.

“Just missed you a lot, baby,” he murmurs against your cunt. “Wanna take my time with you, that's all.” He adds a second finger, making your eyes roll back into your head and your body go slack against the mattress.

Logan prides himself on being able to tell when you're about to cum. The two of you haven't been sleeping together all that long, but he has learned your body quickly. He knows that you like it when he kisses just beneath your ear during missionary and that your pussy clenches around him when he tells you how good you feel.

He knows all of your little quirks, hyper-aware of everything about you - which is why he's confused when he knows your climax is building, and you sit up, pulling yourself off of his mouth.

“Come here,” you demand in a breathless voice before he can ask if something is wrong. “Wanna cum with you inside me.”

You grab him by the biceps, pulling him towards you until you're once again laying flat against the bed and he hovers above you, caging you to the mattress with his arms on either side of your head. Your words and the way you're looking at him makes his cock twitch inside his boxers.

You reach between your bodies, shoving his boxers down enough to free his hard length. You hike your thighs around his hips, locking your calves around his back. The tip of his cock juts against your folds, teasing you as he lubricates himself in your slick. Always so wet and ready for him, but especially after he's been away from you for a few days.

He guides himself downwards, until the tip of him is positioned at your entrance. He captures your lips in his own once more as he sheaths himself inside you, filling you to the hilt in one swift motion. You moan into his mouth at the sensation of him stretching you so quickly, the lack of time to adjust to his size simultaneously brutal and blissful.

He slips his tongue into your mouth as he pulls back out, setting a steady pace so he isn't spilling into you too quickly.

You wrap your legs around him even tighter, pulling him as close to you as you can possibly get him. The heels of your feet dig into the meat of his ass and you pull his chest to yours in a hug, your fingers scratching down the expanse of his back. You dig into his skin with enough force to leave marks that fade as quickly as they appear.

“Fuck, you always take me so good. You know that?” He murmurs when he pulls his lips from yours. Your walls constrict around him at the praise. “Missed you too much,” he grunts into your ear. His speed increases, each stroke hitting your cervix in a kind of blinding pleasure that only he's ever been able to give you.

“Close,” you mumble, almost inaudible among the sound of him fucking in and out of your wet cunt. “I’m close. Want you to cum with me.”

He pulls his chest away from yours, just far enough to snake his hand between your two bodies. His fingers find your swollen clit and he begins rubbing you with heavy, quick circles.

“Let go for me, darlin'. I got you.”

His pacing becomes erratic and his breathing labored - you know he's right there with you. The coil in your abdomen begins to burn hot, building until you're spasming around him with a sharp cry of his name. You ride out your orgasm as he continues to thrust into you, filling you with his warmth and the room with deep, guttural groans.

When you've both come back down to earth, he stills and all but collapses on top of you. He supports himself with one arm to keep the full weight of his body from crushing you as he stares down at you with his forehead resting against yours.

A sudden and loud knock on the opposite side of your bedroom walls snaps you both back to reality.

“Can you keep it down over there? I'm blind, not deaf. But God, do I wish I was..”

Logan lets out a throaty laugh and you instinctively cover your mouth with your hand at the realization of how loud you had been.

“I think it's a bit late for that, sweetheart,” he croons down at you with a soft smirk.

“Sorry, Althea!” You shout back, cringing into your mattress, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.

“Don't worry too much about her,” he says low enough for just you to hear. “She hears worse from Wade’s room anytime that Vanessa is over.”

thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated 💕

for other logan pieces by me check out my masterlist

[shadykazama]

Hello! Your headcanons on Wukong/Destined One had me giggling so much 😊 they're so great, couldn't stop rereading.

Um, if it's alright, can I ask for some Wukong/Destined One x Reader with their baby? Feral daddy monkey in his nesting phase with his mate and baby is so— 🤭

Absolutely! I have a lot of thoughts and the people demand more monkey business- so let's get down to it.

❤ Wukong

Starting with the pregnancy~

He is ELATED.

The idea of a proper heir had never crossed his mind because well- he's immortal. He doesn't need one. But that doesn't mean the idea of his own flesh and blood isn't positively exciting.

There's a chance he knows you're pregnant before you do. What with all of his special powers and heightened senses.

Celebrates privately with you of course but it becomes a mountain-wide event very quickly.

You are showered with praise and blessings by all the monkeys.

He will never miss a chance to brag that he's going to have a baby. And he's definitely smug about it too, thinks your child is going to surpass even his power.

When you start showing he gets more smothering.

Don't forget our king's fatal flaw! He thinks he knows what's best.

Will limit how much you travel and makes sure you always have at least two attendants by your side while he's gone.

Which, once you get further along, isn't often. There were plenty of superstitions about pregnancy in ancient China, as well as a high infant mortality rate- and that's not even counting what complications could happen due to the magical nature of your child. So he'd be stressed.

He expresses stress through aggression (canon), though it's never pointed at you. He'd be fiercely protective over the mountain, but especially any of the areas you regularly stay in. He'd be very snappy at everyone for the entire second half of the pregnancy, except you of course, who he'd be showering with praise and reverence.

Likes holding your stomach while you rest and tells your baby about the great lineage they're being born into, recounting his titles and strength and promising them they'd be greater.

He's hoping for a boy, but he's assured his child will be spectacular regardless of the gender.

When you give birth he will be extremely focused. He can't afford to be weak in a moment when you need him most. (Though your cries of pain and effort will certainly make his heart ache.)

As you're holding your baby for the first time, his teasing, smug attitude is nowhere to be seen. He just looks at you as if you'd given him the universe itself.

Cutest baby ever might I add 👆.

It's a Chinese tradition that only immediate family is allowed to meet the baby for the first 100 days after it's born, so it'd just be you and him for a majority of three months unless you invite your family to meet them.

In traditional fashion, on the 100th day a banquet is held to officially introduce the baby to everyone. And MY GOD would it be an event...

Besides all of the monkeys on the mountain who want to celebrate their new prince/princess, I can't even imagine how many celestials and demons would come to pay their respects and blessings- be it out of fear or respect.

Either way, expect a very long day and a LOT of gifts.

^ Wukong doesn't leave your side for the entire day. I dare someone to try and pull something.

You'd expect with his trickster personality that he'd be a very lenient dad, but Wukong is surprisingly dutiful in making sure your child doesn't turn out lazy or ignorant.

That by no means is to say he wouldn't be a wonderfully playful father. He'd have a wonderful connection with his child, and his most important lesson to them would be to respect their mother ;)

More of a one kid kind of guy, so he'd probably stop after the first, unless you had twins or triplets.

As protective as he was with you when you were pregnant, he's pretty chill with the actual kid. He knows they're durable and will let them get roughed up doing dumb stuff.

Carries them around hanging off his tail and will pretend like he doesn't know where they went.

It's like how cats will let their babies 'sneak up on them' to encourage them to keep trying. He does the same thing with your kid when they try to trick him.

Your baby would be the most respectful little shit ever. A little shit nonetheless, but would do anything for you or their father.

All the monkeys on the mountain help keep an eye on the little sage so you'll never feel lost or alone in parenting. It's very much a joined effort and your baby will see the other monkeys as their family as well!

This wonderful piece of Sun Wukong was done by @kanade-howl here on tumblr! They post their work on Twitter as well at @kanaade_ and @_liehuzuo please support them!

💙 The Destined One

Give him a bunch of babies I beg you.

He'd get addicted, he wants a big family for SURE.

When you first tell him you're pregnant he'll probably take some time to fully soak it in.

You'll be used to being patient with him at this point, but I imagine something like this is really nerve wracking so don't feel bad if you rush him for a response.

He'll put a hand on your stomach as if he's checking for himself before picking you up and smothering you with love.

He's not a chatty guy but he'll let you know how happy he is!

^ That being said, during your pregnancies is the most talkative he'll ever be.

He doesn't want you to stress about communicating and knows your body is going through a lot so he pushes himself to talk more to make sure you get everything you need.

That doesn't mean he'll be a chatterbox by any means. More than nothing is still very slim :')

Expect a lot of one word questions.

Trusts you more than he trusts his own instincts. His instincts tell him you shouldn't be climbing or moving around much- but if you want to, who's he to tell you what to do? He's not the one pregnant 🤷‍♀️

Follows you around like a guard dog when you do though, doesn't matter what you're doing.

Somehow even more physically affectionate than normal. Will insist on holding your hand when you walk so you can lean your weight on him.

When you start showing he'll be amazed. It's not that he's never seen a pregnant person before but like... That's his baby in there and he can't believe it.

His favorite thing to do is lay his head against your stomach while you're resting. Will kiss your skin and adore the life you're making.

You can catch him whispering things to your baby while he's resting his head on your stomach.

Your body is going to ache and he is more than happy to massage it for you. He doesn't even need an excuse to touch you, but he'll find them anyway.

Once you get further along and it gets harder for you to get around, he'll pick you up and take your wherever you want to go- within reasonable distance from your home of course. Not because he can't take you further, he just doesn't want to in case something happens.

But he wants to make sure you get fresh air and still see the beauty outside of your bed.

Doesn't trust anyone to watch you. It's him or nothing.

Makes offerings and prays to the goddess of childbirth. He does this a few times before you catch him and start helping.

He's a bundle of nerves when you're giving birth. If you weren't preoccupied, it'd probably be painfully obvious how nervous he was.

Holds you while you hold your baby and will not stop telling you how much he loves you and how perfect the baby is.

Gets baby fever bad.

Baby will be spoiled, and so will any other baby after that.

Huge advocate for carrying the baby. If you're not opposed to it, he probably carries them more than you.

Has the most deadpan look on his face as he looks at this baby but he has so much adoration for his little miracle.

Stressing over your baby crying in the middle of the night? Not with him! He's at that babies beck and call.

Watching a nearly mute man deal with a curious child is definitely amusing and you get a front row seat.

Your children kind of just accept that their dad doesn't talk much, but he'll always tell them he loves them if they say it to him.

Takes them everywhere with him so he can teach them. Is SO proud when the oldest starts helping teach the younger ones.

He's proud of them in general honestly.

Your kids are going to be super loving and curious. I think he'd foster really healthy relationships between all of them.

You'd have a whole team taking care of you if you ever got sick.

[cottonlemonade]

Mr Steal Your Girl

word count: 1311 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kenma x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, University

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: Kenma tries to ask you out but has awful timing

It was already hard enough to dress for a normal date but finding an outfit for a blind date you didn’t want to go to to begin with was impossible.

Your best friend was annoyed that she couldn’t take you and your chronically single self on any double dates and so decided to take matters into her own hands. At least once every few months she would close her eyes and pick a random guy walking around the campus cafeteria and ask if he was interested in a “cool, funny, smart girl that was just too shy to ask herself” and most of the time that was enough. The date was set, your friend dragged you along and you had a miserable two hours before being allowed to return to your natural habitat - your dorm room.

In her defense, most guys she selected were actually very nice. And except for the last one who had forgotten his wallet, then ate his weight in burgers, let you pay, and had since vanished without a trace or payback, they all knew how to behave. They kept the conversations going, complimented you, and usually asked for a second date, but you liked being alone and besides, dating was stressful. Who needed the whole hassle of getting dressed up and leaving the house? You wanted someone who liked to spend their time indoors, watch movies, play games, build a Lego set or two, snuggle, and snack.

Kenma was convinced that you were perfect for him. Witty, had excellent taste in games and music, and a figure that put every body pillow he ever received as a promo gift to shame. He spent the better part of any lecture twirling his pen in his long fingers and staring at the back of your head, then quickly snapping his eyes the other way, pretending to look intently at the monitor upfront if you happened to turn around during a stretch. He remembered overhearing one of his former classmates once saying that asking someone out was easy, but now that Kenma absently drew a heart with your initials on the side of his notes, he found he didn’t share that sentiment. Partly because he didn’t like to go out in the first place, so how would he convincingly invite someone to something he didn’t even want to go to either?

None of his friends knew about his crush on you and he wasn’t going to admit it to them. Not because he would be embarrassed if they knew, but because he didn’t want to be grouped together with your small and not-so-secret on-campus fan club - a bunch of desperate boys who all wanted a piece of the chubby queen of homebodies. So he denied any allegations that quickening his sluggish steps on the way to the lecture hall to sit in your vicinity, his sleep-deprived heart eyes and doodle-adorned notepads meant anything. Pondering, he tapped the tip of his pen onto the paper, trying to figure out a way to invite you to play games with him, romantically. He wasn‘t going to stoop as low as to ask Kuroo for help and instead took to the wild seas of the internet for advice.

As he scrolled through the many many forums, sifting through mostly bad ideas, he overheard one of your friends say, “It‘s just dinner and a movie. Give him a chance. He is the captain of the swim team after all.“

Kenma‘s heart sank - and then bounced back up immediately when you groaned.

“Look, it‘s sweet and … a little concerning how much you care about my love life, but I‘m not interested in him. Or anyone really. I just prefer to be alone.“

100% understanding and agreeing with you, Kenma chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking if it would come across as weird and creepy if he were to ask you to be alone together.

“But I worry about you.“, the friend pouted.

You laughed and gently put a hand on her shoulder, “Not everyone meets the love of their life at university.“

In truth, you just didn‘t want your friend to know about your ridiculous crush on Kodzuken. Your heart had almost jumped out of your chest when you first spotted the tell-tale half-dyed ponytail in your class and heard the all too familiar voice during a presentation project. It was silly, really, and you did well pushing your infatuation to the very back of your mind.

After all, whenever you tried to catch a glimpse of him he would look away immediately, making it all too clear that wasn‘t interested in a conversation.

It was no use either way. Your friend wouldn‘t stop pushing until you were social for an evening so you chose your usual - well fitted jeans and a thin, long sleeved sweater to keep the cold and any potential bodily contact to a minimum. Your friend waved when she recognized you getting off the bus. She was already waiting in the arms of her boyfriend with a tower of a guy right next to them, who, when seeing who his set-up was going to be, looked a little disappointed. Oh great.

Kenma felt more pathetic by the second. All day he had tried to work up the courage to catch you in a calm minute to ask you out before your date. If it went well with that guy, chances were he wouldn’t ever let you go (if he knew what was best for him), so this was basically his last opportunity ever. When he didn’t manage to ask during class, then neither during lunch, nor in the library he never went to before, and neither at the bus stop, he thought he might as well face the fact that it wasn’t meant to be. But he found himself a few hours later behind you in the queue at the movie theater, he heard you were planning to go to. He would have to ask now before he’d have to buy a ticket. As he politely waited for a lull in the conversation between you and the Iron Man your friend set you up with, Kenma tried to busy himself with a game on his phone to calm his nerves. But he became so engrossed in a level that he missed his chance and could only watch you walk away with your friends. He should just give up. This was ludicrous.

“One ticket to whatever movie they just went to.”, he said before he could stop himself.

Just turn around. Turn around and leave. Come on.

But his feet had other plans. With the overpriced movie stub in hand, he shuffled to the auditorium and searched in the crowd for you. Unfortunately, the first marker he found was the tall guy next to you, talking to your friend and boyfriend, leaving you to sit quietly and awkwardly to the side.

He walked up the steps and your eyes met. Your cheeks blushed, as did his, and with the confidence of a deflated balloon, he came to a halt next to you, hands in his pockets.

“Hey y/n, I’m Kenma. I’m in your business class.”

“I know.”, you said and he was already relieved. First hurdle down. Now, carefully…

“Do you wanna go to a gaming café together?”

“Wha- right now?”

“I mean, yeah, if you don’t have anything else going on.”, he looked past you to the guy who just stared at him in disbelief and added in appeasement of your date, “Nothing personal.”

You exchanged a look with your friend who was just as shocked as the others and she shrugged. You turned back to Kenma.

“Sure thing.”

He held out his hand, then felt silly doing so and was about to lower it when you grabbed it.

“Lead the way.”, you said brightly and he did.

[onlyhyunjin]

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒!

(♡) - my personal favorites (🔞) - CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT

NEW BEGINNINGS - @ikeuverse (flirting with your brother's brother-in-law wasn't in your plans after returning from studying abroad. it wasn't something you were going to stop either since heeseung was the epitome of beauty. but when there's another woman's name in the story. what happens? you don't want to be caught between a betrayal… or so you thought.) (♡)

MARRY ME - @ikeuverse (ever since you met lee heeseung, he told you that the two of you were going to get married. all the time, at every opportunity, he reinforced it until one day, drunk, you accepted. was he dreaming or did it really happen? it wouldn't be so bad to fall for his jokes for once.)

TIDES OF REGRET - @pprodsuga (in the year since heeseung first rejected your love confession, you've tried everything to get over him. a trip to europe makes you realize you miss your former best friend more than anything, and it makes heeseung realize he's got it all wrong.) (♡)(🔞)

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER - @i2sunric (your daughter asks heeseung to tell the greatest love story of all and he takes the chance to narrate how he met you, the love of his life.) (♡)

JUNE BLOSSOMS - @soobnny (synopsis. as the month of may ends, you wonder what june holds for you and heeseung (especially with no more need to fake date.)

LATE SUMMER LOVIN' - @4am-enha (you desperately want to spend your last summer here in town with your friends, only to find out almost all of them are away on vacation. that is, all of them but heeseung. the one friend you’d never really been that close with.)

BITE ME - @drunkhazed (“I’m kind of confused still.” You admit, anxiously shuffling to sit without making eye-contact. Heeseung chuckles plopping down by your side, arm slinging back over your shoulder to keep you pressed against him.)(🔞)

COFFEE & CREAM - @ham-st4r (one chilly night after a long work shift, you’re unfortunately forced to walk home. Cause you left your bag at work, half way through your journey you stumble across a homeless man who you naturally offer money to, and he though he refuses. You give it to him anyway, and down the road, you’ll find that those two dollars changed not only his life but yours as well.) (🔞)

IT'S CUPID, STUPID - @mygnolia (To hell with Lee Heeseung, you couldn't find someone you hated more than the boy who's by your side no matter what. You figured that maybe the summer before university would be the best way to finally let go of him, and to leave the hate you have in your childhood- but no. What do you mean you have to spend ALL summer with him?)

FUCK BUDDIES - @hajunzi (y/n and heeseung and fwb after heeseung win in his football match y/n gives him the best reward)

TEETH - @gyuuberryy (you were not thrilled about the move in of your new neighbour. mostly because he was so strange and seemed to be hiding something dark. and partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him because of your unwanted attraction. you were determined to expose his dark secret and get rid of him once and for all. but, it was proving to be a difficult task because he was just so irresistible..and needy.)

PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM - @simpjaes (You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.) (🔞)

RUDE - @4wkjun (heeseung has never loved anyone as much as he loves y/n. y/n’s father has never hated someone as much as he hates heeseung. but it doesn’t matter, heeseung’s gonna marry y/n anyway.)

I OFFER YOU MY EVERYTHING - @heegyukeluv (You never cared about sex, until you did. You grew too afraid of it, scared of disappointing the other person or showing your inexperience. But then you met Heeseung, the hot basketball captain that stole your heart and became your biggest fantasy. ) (🔞)

VERBOTEN - @heesbaby (a bad stroke of luck saw lee heeseung, your dads coworker, moving into your small apartment until he found his feet again. emotionally unavailable and a workaholic, you were going to try your absolute hardest to make him loosen up. even if it meant breaking a few of the house rules he'd set out.) (🔞) (♡)

10 DAYS TO FALL IN LOVE - @luvyeni (you and heeseung used to be bestfriends as children — he even told you he'd marry you one day. but then you went to highschool and things changed , he dyed his hair and started hanging out with a new group group of friends. through all that his love never changed for you — has yours changed for him?)

RENT A BOYFRIEND - @jayujus (in which jeon y/n is desperate to find a boyfriend ASAP because she needs a date for her family's mixer. her best friend, ningning, introduces her to a website perfect for this situation!)

CHERRY CHAPSTICK - @angelwonie (ever since you met lee heeseung, he told you that the two of you were going to get married. all the time, at every opportunity, he reinforced it until one day, drunk, you accepted. was he dreaming or did it really happen? it wouldn't be so bad to fall for his jokes for once.)

[itneverendshere]

pogue reader getting sick but she can’t call out, but rafes fr mad at you about it

don't want less, don't want more - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

changed it a bit just bc i want to show reader's progress regarding her hyper-independence, they're already dating and past the "i love you" phase, i felt like some progress had to be made by this point, especially bc this is after their big fight in this. hope you enjoy <3

The floor beneath you feels like it's tilting, moving under your feet like a boat rocking on rough water. You blink a couple of times, hoping that’ll shake the haze taking over your vision, but it doesn’t do much. 

The bar lights over your head are too bright, and the music thumping from the speakers makes your head feel like it’s trapped in a vice. The clink of glass, every laugh, every order shouted at you feels like a hammer driving nails straight into your skull.

You swallow hard, trying not to gag. Your throat’s raw, and your chest feels tight, but you’re powering through it because you don’t have much of a choice. Not a choice at all.

"Whiskey sour, extra sour!" some country club douchebag yells from the other side of the bar.

His voice is like nails on a chalkboard. You force a smile and nod, reaching for the bottle, but your hands are shaky. You catch yourself on the edge of the bar before you can drop it.

This morning, you could barely get out of bed. Fever burning through you like you were standing too close to a bonfire, throat too sore to talk, and your head pounding so hard you thought you were going to pass out just brushing your teeth. 

You tried calling in. Tried. Told your manager, Greg, that you were sick as hell, couldn’t make it, but the guy just grunted like he always does. "Can’t afford anyone calling out today," he said. Like the world was going to end if you didn’t show up to sling drinks for a bunch of rich assholes.

So here you are.

You rub the back of your neck, trying to loosen up some of the tension building there, but it doesn’t help. Nothing really does at this point.

"Hey!" The guy who ordered the whiskey sour snaps his fingers in your face. "You deaf or something? Whiskey. Sour."

"Got it," You mutter, trying not to let your voice crack as you finally pour his drink. 

Your vision swims a little as you set it down in front of him, and for a second, you think you might actually faint right here at the bar.

That’d be something. Faceplant into a bunch of overpriced cocktails in front of half of the Kooks on this island. Greg would probably just step over you and ask you to get back to work.

You lean against the bar for a second. Your stomach rolls, threatening to revolt, but you choke it back. You can’t afford to be sick here. Not when you’re already in trouble with your manager for barely making it on time. You think back to the half-assed breakfast you tried to eat—if you can call a slice of toast breakfast—and how your stomach rejected it like poison.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Rafe coming in. And suddenly, you’re even more aware of how wrecked you are.

You know he still struggles with how independent you are sometimes. You’ve always been the kind of girl who handles things on her own, and Rafe has this tendency to think that means you don’t need him.

Today, though? You need him more than ever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to call for help.

You immediately know it’s gonna be a thing.

His eyes lock onto you from across the bar, and even through the fog in your head, you can see that look on his face. He’s pissed. Of course, he’s pissed. His jaw’s clenched like he’s biting back whatever rant he’s about to drop on you, and you can already feel the tension creeping up your neck.

Great, as if you didn’t feel bad enough already.

You try to stand a little straighter, look a little less like you're one second from collapsing, but your legs are jelly, and the room’s still spinning like you’re on some messed-up carnival ride.

You don’t want him to see how bad you’re hurting right now. But today? You’re too out of it to even try and explain.

He strides up to the bar, looking sharp, as usual. Meanwhile, you probably look like death warmed over. His eyes are scanning you, taking in the pale face, the way you’re gripping the edge of the bar like you’re about to keel over. You see his lips tighten, and yeah, he’s definitely about to lay into you.

“You didn’t call,” he says, voice low but definitely annoyed. He leans in, trying to keep this between just the two of you, but with how loud the bar is, it still feels like a confrontation.

“I’m fine,” you lie, forcing a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. 

Rafe’s eyes narrow. He’s not buying it. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Why didn’t you call me?”

You hate that you feel guilty.

“Because I’m handling it,” you say, voice softer now. But even you can hear how weak you sound.

It’s not convincing. Hell, you’re not even convinced.

He crosses his arms, looking down at you like you’re a puzzle he can’t figure out. “Handling it? Baby, you can barely stand.”

You let out a sigh, trying not to let it turn into a cough.

"I’m fine," you repeat, but even you know it sounds pathetic at this point. Your head feels like it's full of cotton, you’re not sure if you’ll make it through the next few minutes, let alone your entire shift.

But pride’s a bitch.

Rafe just stands there, arms crossed, staring at you like he’s waiting for you to come clean. You can feel his frustration, but there’s something else, too. Worry. It’s in the way his eyes keep flicking over your face, how his fingers are tapping against his arm like he’s holding himself back from just scooping you up and carrying you out of here.

"I heard from Topper," he finally says, like he’s been holding that card in his back pocket. You blink, trying to keep up. "He saw you at the club earlier, said you didn’t look right."

Great. Freaking Topper. Of course, idiot couldn’t mind his own business. You can almost picture him, all dressed up in some preppy golf outfit, spotting you from across the course and making a note to text Rafe the second he saw something off.

Rafe’s still watching you, waiting for a reaction.

You open your mouth, trying to come up with some excuse, some way to brush it off, but your brain’s too foggy, and all you manage is a weak, "I was fine then."

He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? 'Cause Top said you looked like you were about to hurl on the 9th hole." He’s trying to keep his voice low, but you can tell he’s annoyed. Not at Topper, not even really at you—just at the whole situation.

You want to snap back, tell him you’re fine, that you’ve got it under control. But instead, all that comes out is another tired sigh. “Greg wouldn’t let me call out. Said they needed me.”

“You serious?”

“Dead-serious.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches so tight you think you hear his teeth grind. His hands come out of his pockets, flexing like he’s about to hit something—or someone. He runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down before he says something he’ll regret.

But you know him—he’s never been great at holding back when he’s pissed. And right now? He’s definitely pissed.

“Greg said that?” His voice is low, but there’s this dangerous edge to it, like he’s two seconds away from losing it, “You should’ve called me. I would’ve come down here, I would’ve—”

“I know.” You cut him off because you do know.

He would’ve dropped everything and come running. That’s exactly why you didn’t call. You didn’t want to be the a burden again. Like you said, you’re still working on yourself.

Rafe leans against the bar, his whole body radiating this intensity that makes you feel both comforted and nervous.

“So, let me get this straight,” he says, voice louder now, not even bothering to keep it low-key anymore. “You’re sick as hell, and that asshole wouldn’t let you stay home?”

You wince. He’s drawing attention now, people at the bar starting to glance over. You hate seeing him like this, but you don’t have the energy to smooth things over.

“Rafe, please—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No, seriously. What kind of fucking manager forces someone to come in when they’re this sick?” His voice carries, and a couple of the other bartenders are giving you looks, like they can’t decide if they’re more surprised or impressed by Rafe’s audacity, "You’re killing yourself for this job, and he doesn’t give a fuck.”

You glance toward the back, hoping Greg’s still in the office and not witnessing this meltdown. The last thing you need right now is more heat from him. But of course, your luck sucks, because just as Rafe’s ramping up, Greg strides out from the back, clipboard in hand, that same stupid scowl on his face like he’s already annoyed at everything.

Rafe spots him instantly, and if you thought he was mad before, now he’s on a whole other level.

"Greg!" Rafe calls out, loud enough that half the bar turns to look. Your stomach sinks. This is about to get ugly.

Greg stops dead in his tracks, his eyes flicking to Rafe and then back to you. He knows. He knows exactly what’s about to happen, and he’s already losing the upper hand.

“Yeah, Rafe?” Greg’s voice is weak, almost shaky. Like he’s trying to keep it together, but he knows he’s got no chance. Rafe’s family literally owns half the island—Greg’s just some middle manager with too much attitude.

Your boyfriend steps forward, slow and deliberate, closing the space between them like he’s already won this thing.

“You made her come in today?” His voice is calm, but it’s that scary kind of calm that’s worse than yelling. The kind that makes your stomach drop because you know the person holding it together is barely holding back.

Greg opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is this pathetic mumble. “We… we were short-staffed.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow, his lips pulling into this cold, humorless smile. “Short-staffed?” He glances at you, and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You really didn’t want this to turn into a scene, but here you are. “You see how she looks right now? You made her come in like this?”

Greg’s eyes flick back and forth between you and Rafe, and you can see the panic starting to set in. He’s sweating now, probably realizing that this little power trip he’s on is about to bite him in the ass. “She didn’t… uh… say she couldn’t work…”

“She told you she was sick,” Rafe cuts him off, voice like steel. “You’re the manager, right? Thought that meant taking care of your staff. Guess I was wrong.”

Greg’s mouth opens and closes like he’s trying to think of something to say, but nothing’s coming. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, knowing any move he makes right now could get him fired. Hell, maybe even blacklisted from every job on the island. The Cameron’s have that kind of pull.

“I-I didn’t realize how bad it was,” Greg finally stammers, but even he doesn’t sound convinced by his own excuse.

Rafe takes another step forward, practically towering over Greg now. “You didn’t realize?” He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “Look at her, man. How could you not realize?”

You wince as the room seems to get quieter, everyone watching this power struggle unfold. You’d rather be anywhere but here right now, but you also know that Rafe’s not letting this slide.

Greg takes a step back, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“I-I was just trying to keep things running. We… we were slammed.”

Rafe’s smile drops, and now it’s just pure ice. “You think that’s a good enough reason to put my girlfriend’s health at risk?”

Greg looks like he’s about to pass out himself at this point, but he manages to mutter, “No… no, I—I didn’t mean…”

“Here’s the deal, Greg,” Rafe says, voice low but dangerous. “You’re gonna back off. Let her finish this shift if she wants. If she doesn’t? She’s out, no questions asked. And next time, when she says she’s sick, you listen.”

Greg nods so fast it’s like his head’s on a swivel. “Of course, of course, Rafe. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just—”

“Good,” Rafe interrupts, already turning away like he’s done with this conversation. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Greg just stands there, wide-eyed and frozen, clearly too scared to even argue. He stammers some half-hearted apology, but Rafe’s already turning back to you, brushing the whole thing off like it was nothing.

You look up at him, still in shock at how quickly Greg folded. “You really didn’t need to do that.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the bar with that easy confidence he always has. “Yeah, I did,” he says, his tone softening now that it’s just the two of you. “I’m not gonna let some nobody push you around like that.”

You sigh, feeling both relieved and slightly embarrassed. “You know he’s probably gonna hate me even more now.”

Rafe smirks, like that’s the least of his concerns. “Who cares? He won’t say a fuckin’ thing. Trust me.”

“Everyone’s going to say a thing, baby. They’re gonna think I have some kind of privilege because I’m dating you.”

Rafe’s smirk softens. He steps a little closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear him over the dull roar of the bar.

“Let them think whatever they want,” he says, his hand brushing against yours. “You’ve been busting your ass here long before I ever stepped in. Nobody can take that from you.”

You bite your lip, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, judgment and curiosity. He’s right in a way—you’ve been working extra hard. But still, it’s hard to ignore the feeling that now, everyone’s going to assume you’ve got some special treatment just because of Rafe’s name.

“It’s not about that,” you murmur, “I just—don’t want people thinking I can’t stand on my own. I don’t want to be the girl who hides behind her boyfriend’s power.”

Rafe tilts his head, studying you with that look he always gives when he knows you're holding back.

“You think that’s what this is?” His voice is steady, his tone a little softer now. “This wasn’t about power, baby. This was about someone treating you like you didn’t matter. And I’m not letting anyone—anyone—do that to you.”

He’s not wrong.

Greg didn’t give a damn about how sick you were, only about keeping the bar running, like you were replaceable. And you hate how right Rafe is, how much you needed someone to step in, even if it makes you feel a little helpless. You swallow hard, the tightness in your chest easing slightly, though your body still feels like it’s been run over by a truck.

“And you’re not working anymore today, or the next week for that matter. You’re gonna get your ass in my car and we’re going to the doctor.”

You nod, knowing there’s no arguing with Rafe when he’s like this, but part of you still feels guilty.

Not for needing help exactly, but for not being able to handle it all on your own. You've always been the girl who grits her teeth and gets through it, but today? Your body is screaming at you that you just can’t. Not anymore.

Rafe’s watching you closely, like he’s waiting for you to argue, but you don’t. You’re too drained. The adrenaline from the confrontation with Greg is wearing off, and now all you feel is this bone-deep exhaustion.

“I’m not going to a doctor,” you say, even though you know you probably should. “Just home. I just need to sleep.”

He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to read between the lines of what you’re saying, but then he just nods. “Fine. But if you’re not better by tomorrow, I’m dragging you to urgent care. No arguments.”

You give him a weak smile, trying to show you appreciate it even though you feel like crap.

“Deal.”

Without another word, he moves around the bar, ignoring Greg’s gawking and the way everyone’s still sneaking glances at you two. He gently takes the towel out of your hand, sets it on the counter, and slips an arm around your waist.

It’s the first time you’ve felt stable all day, leaning into him like you might actually make it to the car without collapsing.

“I don’t think I can afford an appointment.”

He looks at you like you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. His arm tightens around your waist, steadying you as you start to sway a little on your feet.

"Not worried about the money.”

You try to shake your head, but the movement makes you dizzy, and you stop, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

"I just don’t want to be that person, you know? Relying on you for everything."

He gives you a side glance, eyebrows raised.

"Baby, you’re not relying on me for everything. You’re literally sick, and I’m not about to let you tough it out just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help. We’ve talked about this a million times.”

"I guess," you mumble, letting your head rest against his shoulder as you walk towards the door.

"No guessing about it," he says, softer now, his fingers brushing your arm in a way that makes you feel more grounded. "You’ve been holding down the fort for too long. Let me take care of you for once."

The air outside hits you like a slap, but Rafe keeps you close, leading you toward his car. Your legs are weak, the fever still simmering under your skin, but his body warmth keeps you upright.

"Thanks," you whisper, even though it feels weird to say. You’re not used to thanking people for basic care, but with Rafe, it feels different.

He pauses, opening the passenger door for you.

"You don’t gotta thank me, okay? I’m just doing what anyone who loves you would do."

Your heart skips at that. You’re still not used to how easily he says stuff like that, like it’s no big deal. But he’s rubbing off on you, because you can say it just as easily now.

“I love you too, sorry for being a pain in your ass.”

Rafe chuckles as he helps you into the car, leaning down to make sure you’re settled before he shuts the door. He bends down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"You're always a pain in my ass," he murmurs against your skin, grinning as he pulls back just enough to look at you. "But you’re my pain in the ass, and that’s what matters."

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite how wrecked you feel. The fever, the headache, the exhaustion—it all takes a backseat, at least for a moment. 

Knowing Rafe’s always got your back? That makes it a little easier to breathe.

[beenbaanbuun]

blood w/ poly!ateez

so i feel so sane about this… definitely no evil thoughts filling up my brain right now. none whatsoever :)

i want to write so much more about this universe and i’m literally sending the biggest kiss ever to @ateez-main-yapper to requesting this because i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life!

words - idk

genre - smut, horror (there’s a bit of gore i guess)

warnings - vampire!ateez, mafia!ateez, human!reader, smuggler!reader, blood, scarification, collars, ownership, blood, surgery mentions, nicknames (little mouse, princess, sweetheart), dancer!yeosang, security guard!mingi, ripper!doctor!yunho, mommy!seonghwa (don’t look at me like that, i had to), hand kink (mentioned), no actual sex but it’s talked about a lot, hair pulling, i think that’s all??

——————————————————————————

the scent of stale blood haunts the hallway you find yourself walking down, clinging to the back of your throat until yourself gagging on it. no matter how many times you find yourself down here, it never gets any easier to cope with; even a slaughterhouse would be more pleasant than this.

it begs the question why you’re back. by now, you’ve bled them of enough money to never have to work again, so it’s certainly not the pay. the job itself is harder than most, and not at all rewarding when you have to lie and cheat your way into success. there’s no doubt that the stress of hiding a smuggling operation behind the guise of a blood donation clinic has taken a good 20 years of your life from you. you can guarantee that job satisfaction isn’t what’s keeping you here either.

it’s only when you turn a corner and your eyes land upon them that you remember exactly why you’re still so willing to walk these halls. it isn’t something keeping you here but rather someone; multiple someones, in fact.

“mingi!” your footsteps quicken as you get closer the security guard that stands waiting outside of a heavy metal door. despite the fact that you’ve been on the other side of it multiple times, it still sends a shiver of curiosity down your spine. it’s not an anxious curiosity as it was when you first landed yourself in this position, but more of a morbid one. you know the horrors that lie behind it, you’ve experienced a few of them too, yet you still yearn to see more. “long time no see,” you offer a polite smile once you’re close enough to lower your volume from a shout, “san told me hongjoong had assigned you to pest control. is it not going well?”

mingi gives you a slow blink, his jaw set in stone and his eyes steely as he stares you down. he’s always looked far more intimidating than he actually is, although you suppose it serves to his benefit when his main job it scaring away anyone who might wish to disturb the peace. you’re only grateful to have had the chance to see behind the mask he wears; to watch his eyes melt and his lips part in the wonky grin he gets so little time to wear.

“you’ve not seen me in months and the first thing you ask me is about my demotion back to security?” he quirks a brow at you and you have to bite back your grin. in truth, you’d heard all about it from seonghwa over the past few weeks, your main contact within the clan more than happy to share life details with you as though you’re a lifelong friend rather than a mere employee. their favourite employee, sure, but still at the bottom of the pecking order.

“i just wanted to know more,” you lift your arms in defence, not missing the way his eyes flicker to the bandage on your left forearm, “like you said, it’s been a while.”

mingi hums in agreement as he examines the clean cloth. a long finger reaches out to trace the spot where the fabric meets your skin, the touch lingering and soft. it’s more the real mingi than it is the security guard mingi; it warms your heart to see.

“when did this happen?” he whispers, voice barely above a whisper.

“about two weeks ago,” you i pull your wrist back, letting mingi’s hand drop back down to his side, “hongjoong wanted to approach me about it, but i didn’t take much convincing,” actually, it was you who approached him but for some reason that’s much harder to admit, “you guys are much… kinder to me than the other clans i supply, well, supplied to. it was a no brainer to ditch them when given the chance.”

“so you’re ours?” he asks, voice dipping a little too low for the question to be purely innocent.

“i’m mine,” you confirm, “what i supply, however, is all yours.”

there’s a smirk on his lips, not as easily defeated by your sense of self worth as you’d like him to be. he knows as well as the rest of them what the mark on your arm means, after all. he knows as well as you do that there’s no getting away from them now. the moment yunho took his sweet, sadistic time carving their mark into your body it wasn’t just your business that belonged to them.

“sure you are, little mouse,” he whispers as he leans in close, his icy breath fluttering against your face. your stomach drops but you choose to ignore it. this was your decision, after all, “now, scurry along; you wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting, would you?”

with the flip of a switch, the metal door clicks open and your immediately met with a blast of cool air and a wall of sound. you’ll never understand the clan’s need for these constant frivolities, especially when you’re on the other side of this getting your hands dirty, but you suppose it is a good way to hide their more secretive operations. no one is going to notice the door in the corner when there’s so much going on out here, right? it’s an extra layer of security, and a darn good one at that.

when you step inside, the door clicks shut behind you and you immediately get to scanning the crowd of partygoers for a familiar face. amongst the hoard of vampires, they’re harder to spot, their ashy skin and red eyes sticking out a lot less than they would next to a human. instead you look for a familiar hair colour, recalling the angry text you got from seonghwa about the den’s main bathroom turning pink with hongjoong’s hairdye. nothing sticks out at you, though, and so you’re back at square one.

your arms stretch out before you as you go to push through the crowd. it’s moments like this that you’re glad for the metal, almost collar-like band around your neck. yeosang had created it as a way to keep your pulse hidden from any less-well-meaning vampires. he’d insisted that the tag dangling from it with the clan’s emblem engraved was all hongjoong’s idea, but you recognise the same possessive glint in all of their eyes. it’s the same one yunho had given you when engraving that very emblem into your body, and the same one san had given to you when wrapping your bleeding arm up in a fluffy white bandage. yeosang is just like the rest of them, even behind his sweet exterior.

but right now he isn’t crafting some marvel of engineering out of metal scraps and a dream, but instead on the stage at the front of the room. it’s not often he’s up there instead of one of the others, but as you watch him elegantly dangle from a hoop that hangs from the ceiling, you find it hard to see why. he’s utterly ethereal, like a butterfly about to emerge from a chrysalis; one of those blue ones with the wings that seemed designed to capture your attention with their beauty. you’re entranced, much more so than the rest of the party-goers who seem to have grown blind to the creature moving elegantly before them.

his body moves not at all like a butterfly though, instead flowing smoothly like a viper along the branch of a tree. he extends his arms in such a way you’ve never seen before, silken and smooth as he reaches out to his audience. it pulls you in further, your feet shuffling as you push through the final layer of people to get to the stage. you stumble forwards, catching yourself on the edge of the raised platform. if he notices you there, he doesn’t show it; the stoic expression he wears remains steady as he gracefully shifts his body into yet another position.

you watch him like that until the end of his performance, unblinking with your lips parted in awe. even the way he tumbles to the floor and bows to an uninterested audience holds so much more grace than you think you will ever possess. to think that this is the man that spends half of his time smeared in motor oil with a puppy-like grin on his lips is strange, yet it feels so right.

“hello, little mouse,” he echoes the familiar nickname as he makes his way to the front of the stage, crouching down in front of you and running an all-too-confident finger along your jawline to your chin. he snaps your mouth shut in a way that is so far from the yeosang you know that part of you believes this must be his much cockier twin. “hongjoong is out tonight; some trouble on south side caught his attention so he wanted to clean up the mess before the police got there.”

“i’m meeting with seonghwa then?” you murmur, too starstruck for your mouth the form words properly.

yeosang shakes his head.

“seonghwa and san went with him,” the finger from your chin shifts down to the piece of jewellery that fits snug around your neck. his touch catches against the tag, the jingling sound reminding you of a bell on a cats collar. you try to ignore the smirk that rises to his face as sees you make the connection, instead shifting your gaze to the pendant around his neck that shares the same symbol. “yunho is busy with whatever sick shit gets him off, me and mingi are working which means…”

fuck.

“jongho and wooyoung.”

“clever mouse,” yeosang’s tone is venomous, despite his words being soft. clearly performing does something to his ego; inflates it until every sign of the sweet mechanic is hidden behind a thick shroud of confidence. it’s deliciously cruel, mirroring the sick sadism of yunho or the vast overconfidence of mingi, and holy fuck do you want a taste. perhaps later, once business is over.

if business is over.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about those two, though,” he continues, tugging on the tag of your collar—because despite your pride, even you have to admit that there’s no other way to describe it—until you’re face is merely inches from his own, “hongjoong promised yunho their balls if they can’t learn to control them. maybe you’ll finally be able to have a meeting with them before getting your pussy stuffed, hm?”

you feel yourself getting warmer, your face flushing as yeosang so blatantly talks about your track record with the pair of resident trouble makers. it’s not like you’ve let slip about all the times jongho’s had you sitting on his cock with your mouth wrapped around wooyoung’s the second you step into their office which means that they must have instead. it makes you wonder what they talk about whenever you’re not here, and how much each of them know about your less than professional escapades with each of them. it’s a troubling thought, and yet it’s still manages to light a fire deep in your belly.

“see you later, yeosang,” is the only thing you can mumble in response as you pull away from his touch, the tag of the collar bumping gently against your neck as it slips free of his fingers.

——————-

“you told the others about fucking me?” you scoff as you barge your way into the office where the two youngest vampires await your arrival. it’s nice to see them here already, since they usually arrive far later than the agreed upon time. although, you suppose with the delays of mingi and yeosang, you’re also late on this occasion. you let the passive-aggressive comment about time keeping slide, knowing it won’t help you right now.

“hello to you too, mousy,” wooyoung hums from where he lays on the green sofa in the corner of the room, “it’s nice to see you again! we’re doing wonderfully, by the way; thanks for a—”

you let the door slam behind you as you storm your way towards him, completely ignoring the curious gaze of jongho.

“cut the shit, wooyoung,” you grab hold of his shirt collar and lean in close. it’s supposed to be intimidating but the wide grin on his lips lets you know otherwise. “you’ve all been talking about me when i’m not here? what the fuck, man!”

wooyoung chuckles in your face, his dangerous fangs glinting beneath the overhead lights. you know he’d never bite without your permission—people have been killed by hongjoong for much less—but it still sends a shiver through you whenever you see them.

“you’re not exactly discrete yourself, princess,” the office chair creaks as jongho stands, making his way around his desk and towards you. although you keep your gaze firmly on the little rat who still sits giggling to himself, you can’t help but be hyper aware of the presence behind you. a large hand traces its way up your spine, not stopping until you feel his fingers lace themselves with your locks and tug. your grip fall limply from wooyoung’s shirt as you’re hauled back into the soft muscle of jongho’s chest, your neck craned awkwardly over his shoulder to keep you in place. “what do you want us to say when san is asking about who’s cum he’s eaten from your pussy? do you want us to lie to them?”

you squirm, wincing when his grip on your hair doesn’t loosen despite your attempts to break free. they call you little mouse and right now, you really do feel the part—you walked right into a trap of which there’s no way out.

“maybe i should let you fuck me again just so i can watch when yunho rips your fucking balls off your body!” you grunt through gritted teeth.

jongho hums in amusement, “it was hyperbole, sweetheart,” a pair of cold lips meet the hot skin of your cheek for just a second before pulling away, the softness a stark contrast to the harsh grip he still has you in, “he doesn’t care how much we fuck you as long as we get the job done. after all, he’d be a hypocrite to complain about us fucking you when his dick is inside of you twice as often, hm?”

you watch with cautious eyes as wooyoung stands from his place on the sofa, grinning as wide as the cheshire cat. it reeks of danger, yet you’ve never been the type to give into that sort of thing. you’re a human working for a bunch of vampires; danger is just a regular part of your life at this point.

“besides, mousy,” the cheshire cat purrs, “you think we’re the only ones who talk? you don’t think we know just how much you love calling seonghwa mommy when you ride him? or how much you love it when yeosang spits in your mouth whenever he’s fucking you dumb?” wooyoung brings a hand to your cheek, dusting over your bottom lip with his thumb, “you’re ours, little mouse; we can talk if we want.”

[7ndipity]

How They Text

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: What the members texting habits would be like with their crush or S/o

Warnings: slightly suggestive 

A/N: thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin: Jin I think is a very simplistic, but teasing texter. He’ll ask for your opinion on random things like “What should I get for lunch?” only to quip back like two minutes later with “wrong answer, I’m ordering chicken”. If you’re just in the flirty/crush stage, he tries to leave a bit of time in between texts, but once you’re dating, he texts regularly throughout the day about whatever he’s doing or thinking of “Do you think I’d look good with purple hair?”

Yoongi: I think Yoongi texts quite frequently, tho sometimes it’s only a *thumbs up emoji* He’s a man of slightly fewer words, and his texts reflect that, most of them being single word messages like “Dinner??” “Morning” “Missyou(intentionally written as one word like he’s mumbling)”. Every now and then tho, you’ll get one of his 2am, multi-paragraph messages about how much he cares for you and how much you mean to him���

Hobi: Hobi is consistent, responding quickly to all your messages, regardless of where you are relationship-wise. He makes sure to text you everyday, even if it’s just “Good morning!😊” and “Goodniiiiigt😘” so you know that he’s thinking of you. He also sends lots of playful selfies of his daily routine with teasing little captions like “bet you wish you were here” with a pic of him getting coffee or hanging out at rehearsals. He also randomly sends sweet little notes about how he’s thinking about you or how he misses you, especially if he’s traveling/on tour.

Namjoon: I think he texts a little inconsistently. If he’s home and in his usual routine, he texts you multiple times throughout the day, but if he’s busy or traveling, he tends to lose track of time and forgets til you text first. I think he prefers talking on the phone or in person, so he mainly texts to send updates abt his day/schedule. I feel like he texts a lot when he’s needy/horny, so if he’s suddenly really quick answering your messages, you know what’s up👀

Jimin: Jimin is a very cutesy texter, with lots of “<3”s and “smooch”s following whatever he says. He sends lots of lil reminders to look after yourself like “It’s cold today, don’t forget your jacket” or “I know you’re busy w work/school, but pls make sure to eat dinner”. He likes to play hard to get now and then, sending flirty little comments and then intentionally leaving you on ‘sent’ for a lil bit just to try and make you antsy, but if you do the same to him, he will get soo sulky 

Taehyung: I see Tae being semi-inconsistent with his texts. He’s the type to send you multiple texts in a row, but then once you respond, it takes him like an hour to reply back with just a“Yea”😑 He tends to get somewhat needy/sentimental in the evenings before bed, sending cute lil comments and scenarios like “we should buy a house somewhere by the ocean, that way we can go for walks on the beach whenever we want” “My bed’s not nearly as comfy w/o you to cuddle😔"

Jungkook: He’s a famously bad texter, leaving everybody on read constantly or taking half a day minimum to reply, but I like to think he would be more attentive if it’s from his crush or S/o(getting prompt answers from him is definitely a partner privilege) He tends to mostly send memes, but when he’s drunk, he texts a lot, rambling about how much he likes you and things he wants to do with you. They’re mostly innocent, but there’s definitely a few things that are a bit spicier too😳

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0ghol @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[leoruby-draws]

Been on a bit of a roll with posting my drawings lately, just getting rid of some backlog. Anyways, here's a funny doodle of the batkids bothering their big brother Nightwing on a date with Starfire. They're so annoying lmao.

Its kinda a sequel to this comic from way back. I say kinda because I meant to put with the comic itself but I was too lazy to do so. But I'm posting it now!

Speaking of that comic, I got an ask asking for a follow-up to it showcasing Dick and Starfire's kids getting some 'revenge' for them. Here's Mar'i (NightStar) and Jake Grayson popping in from the future! (btw I accidentally deleted the ask, feel bad esp considering how long it took to actually do art they wanted.)

They're all having so much fun! Look at little Jake, I actually wasn't sure if I should put him here since Mar'i is from Kingdom Come and Jake is from The New Order. Two different universes, the ask did ask for both of them so I did so. Also I forgot his eyes were green, aw well.

Speaking of Kingdom Come, I remember reading that in my middle school library along with some other DC/Batman comics. I was already a total weeb and loved manga so I decided to try out western comics too (since I did like the DCAU cartoons). Read them for a few weeks got bored, then picked up Akira and wouldn't read superhero comics again for more than a decade. Just weren't as easy to get into as manga, took some effort to try them again.

Anyways, here's an extra Mar'i as Nightstar:

I love her outfit, such a wonderful design. And its fun to play around with it too, its fun. But I'll probably take off those wings on her headband, they clutter the design I think. Gosh I love doing her hair its so fun.

Here's an extra Mar'i, with Jake included:

Would Mar'i be Robin as a kid? Or take on a different kid hero persona? How about Jake? Just played around with some costumes for them. Look at Jake clinging to Mar'i, think she'll be a good big sister?

Played around with Nightstar's outfit some more . Wanted to draw them longer so make it look like actual wings on her, and also like tassels on a performer's costumes.

Well this was fun to do, hope you like all this!

[darknight3904]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘈 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘢𝘤𝘰 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭 & 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 (2024). 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘎𝘦𝘯 𝘝, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘝𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦.

𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥/𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 30𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 3.7 𝘬

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Happy 21st of September! Originally, I had Pitbull in this story and at the last minute decided to change it to Earth, Wind & Fire.

Logan wasn't sure what to think as he watched you, Wade, and Vanessa pregame your evening. At this rate, the three of you were going to be too drunk to even get in your Uber, let alone actually walk into whatever club or bar you were supposed to be going to.

"Want some, Peanut?" Wade asked as he tipped another shot back

"No." Logan said from his seat at the table

"Oh c'mon, since when did you give up drinking? You were Frank Gallagher level when I picked you up in your universe! Don't tell me you're going all righteous on me!" Wade pushed.

"Are you even able to get drunk?" He asked suspiciously

"Are you?" Wade grinned

"It's girls night, Logan. Humor me with a shot." Vanessa smiled warmly

He slowly took the shot glass from Wade's hands before quickly downing it.

"If it's girl's night, why is this one going with you?" He asked nodding at Wade who was pouring more drinks.

"Honorary member." You winked at him

Logan shook his head, you were definitely drunk already. Senseless flirting didn't fit your style. Not that it mattered much since Logan wasn't focused on any of that currently. The only reason he was still sitting here in the kitchen tolerating Wade Wilson was you, or more particularly, what you were wearing. The skimpy black dress, if it even qualified as that, was simply mesmerizing. The way it hugged your body in all the right spots and left little to the imagination was driving him mad.

"If you keep staring, you eyes are going to pop right out of your head." Wade snickers in his ear

"Fuck you," Logan says

"You wish." Wade sighs

"Why don't you come out with us, Logan?" Vanessa asks

"I'm fine here, got lots of stuff to do." He grunts

"Fucking your hand to that picture I gave you isn't stuff." Wade chastizes

"What picture?" You ask, a mean-looking smirk on your face

"So glad you asked, Pumpkin. Logan here now has a picture of yo-"

Logan jumps up, slapping his hand over Wade's mouth. The slink of his claws coming out of his other hand have the room silent.

"Shut the fuck up." He orders, letting Wade go.

"Sorry, daddy." Wade laughs, darting to hide behind Vanessa when Logan swings for him, claws gleaming in the light.

He takes another glance at you and that damn dress. Fuck it, he wants to stare at you all night, he might as well get a few drinks out of it. And not just the shitty vodka Wade was trying to shove down his throat.

The club, he hadn't bothered catching the name of, was packed. He could practically smell the sweat that was rolling off some of these people. Didn't they shower? Was there a soap shortage in this dimension?

"Kesha!" Vanessa yells as a new song starts.

On his right, you jump up from your seat, eager to dance to whatever electronic-sounding beat this was. He watches as Vanessa leads you to the dance floor.

"Y'know I bet she can sense all the blood that's rushing to your dick right now. Don't you have any shame? You perverted old man!"

"Do you ever stop running your mouth?" Logan groaned, tearing his eyes away from you as you disappeared with Vanessa behind groups of strangers. If they weren't in public Wade would've had three silver claws lodged in his brain right now.

"Nope! Unless you give me something to occupy it with." Wade grins, "I'm talking about what's down under, Peanut. Pull it on out, I bet it's Hugh. Ha! Get it Huge? Hugh?"

Logan scowled at the inappropriate joke, choosing to ignore the Australian accent Wade had thrown into the middle of the sentence. There was something seriously wrong with him.

"Ugh, I fucking love girls night." Wade sighs, tossing his head back

"You're not even a girl." Logan points out

"You transphobic bitch. What if I decided I was this morning?" Wade gasps beside him.

"You've decided to be a girl?" Logan asks

"No," Wade replies, "It's the idea of it."

Logan had no idea what he was babbling about as he leaned forward to sip at his drink.

"I know about your little crush." Wade says, "Can I just say you're totally brave for that one. She always looks like she wants to rip your head off."

"What would you know about it? All you do is give puppy dog eyes to Vanessa." Logan growls, "Too scared to make the first move, bub?"

"Hey, I shared that with you in a moment of vulnerability." Wade groans

"You shared that after you chain-smoked three joints and did a line of cocaine." Logan reminds him

"Yeah, that was nice." Wade sighs, "I'm just saying, you, kitty cat, are bolder than bold, going after a girl that could literally blow your head off your body."

"I'm not going after anyone," Logan says, standing up no longer interested in babbling with Wade.

"Yeah, alright." Wade snorts

The upbeat tune of September by Earth, Wind & Fire has you half-deaf as you dance with Vanessa. The intense body heat of everyone else around you was almost too much as Wade suddenly appeared. In the colorful light, his toupee almost looked real.

"I fucking love this song!" He declares, wrapping a big arm around Vanessa.

Your eyes dart back to where he came from. The table was now unoccupied, minus the empty glasses of your drinks.

"Where's Logan?" You half yell

"Stumbled off to the bar. I think I made too many dick jokes!" Wade responds

You deliver a harsh slap to his chest which has Wade letting out a faux whine of pain.

"Only blue talk and love, remember. How we knew love was here to stay!!"

Wade's off-beat singing has you groaning and Vanessa laughing. They truly were a good match for each other.

You push your way through the crowd of people as you grow closer to the bar. The alcohol in your system had you a bit overconfident as you got closer to him. Perhaps you could convince him to come out to dance with the group. You get closer to him, his small tufts of brown hair unmistakable as he stands at the bar and nurses a drink.

"Oh come on? Not even one dance? I'm a great dancer, y'know."

The vixenish voice of a stranger fills your ears when you finally get close. A tall blonde in a bright red dress was hanging off Logan's arm, her chest pressed into his bicep as she batted fake eyelashes at him.

"Not interested." Logan sighs

You watch the interaction occur. You'd never really seen Logan interact with anyone outside of the apartment.

"You sure?" She smiles, "I'll let you take me to the bathroom when we're done."

Your eyes widen when she leans in and gently bites at Logan's ear lobe. The alcohol has filled you with liquid courage as you close the distance between you and this mystery woman.

"Fuck off." You say to her, "There won't be any mystery trips to the bathroom. Go find another dick to suck."

She turns her head to her and you expect her to ridicule you. Perhaps even call you a bitch for interrupting whatever seduction technique she had going.

"Look at you." She coos, letting go of Logan.

Before you can even process what's happening, she's in your personal space, hands running through your hair and down your body, coming to rest on your waist.

"And I thought he was the finest thing in the club tonight." She smiles, "Have you ever been with another woman?"

Logan slams his now-empty drink onto the bar as you whip your head to him.

"She's not interested. Neither am I." Logan growls

A pout appears on her face but she takes a hint and stumbles off into the crowd, off to find another sucker.

"She wanted both of us." You breathe in shock

"Can't blame her," Logan says quickly

"What?" You look up at him, embarrassed when his eyes are trained on your skimpy dress.

"Nothin', bub." He says with a cough, "Where's the idiot?"

You point to the dance floor where you left Wade and Vanessa. Your eyes widen when you see the two of them making out under the neon lights of the club.

"Looks like we're going home without them." Logan sighs, you're sure you can hear a hint of disgust in his tone.

"Yeah." You sigh, leaning against the bar next to him, "They're cute together though."

"You're nicer when you're drunk." Logan points out, not interested in agreeing with your statement.

"I can still be mean." You say looking over at him, thinking about insulting that stupid face of his

Logan raises his hands in surrender, "I'm good."

The rest of the night is a blur. At some point, Vanessa finds you and whispers into your ear that she and Wade are leaving together. You stay by Logan's side, tired of dancing. Logan has somehow talked you into trying a drink out of your comfort zone and now a martini that takes like gasoline is in front of you.

"Swallow it!" Logan commands next to you over the music.

In the back of your mind, a joke about blow jobs bounces around. It never comes out though because the drink is burning your throat as it goes down.

"That is disgusting." You groan

"It's not that fruity shit you like." Logan laughs as he looks at your face that's pinched together in disgust.

"Not my fault all the drinks you like taste like an old man's bath water."

"Hey." Logan gently nudges you in annoyance.

"Can we go home?" You ask him suddenly

"You sure you're ready?" Logan responded, "Thought you loved to dance?"

"I do, but," You glance down at your feet which are still in your heels, "My feet feel like they're going to fall off my body."

Logan shakes his head with a laugh, "Alright, we can go home."

Logan settles the tab and then leads you out of the club into the cool October air. You're a bit drunker than you thought you were as you lean against a telephone pole, waiting for an Uber to show up. You cross your arms across your chest as a breeze blows by.

"You alright?" Logan asks

"Fine." You mumble

Logan's eyes scan your body as he takes in your drunken shivering form. He rolls his eyes but shrugs off his jacket anyway. Don't girls ever think about bringing jackets with them?

"Thank you." You softly say as he drops it over your shoulders

"Don't mention it." Logan sighs

He glances down at his phone. Where the hell was this Uber?

"Logan look!" You gasp

He follows your pointed arm to see a stray cat, digging through a trash can.

"Here kitty!" You exclaim, leaving your spot by by the telephone to try to go after the cat that looks even meaner than you were when sober.

"No, stop." Logan sighs, reaching to grab you by the arm, "That cat doesn't want anything to do with you."

You deliver a hard punch to his side when the cat runs off. How was it his fault that the cat got scared?

"Just stand there and wait for our ride." He orders, his phone says ten minutes away.

A beat of silence passes as you actually listen to him for once. And then, your mouth is opening again.

"Let's go get Taco Bell." You declare

"What?" Logan mumbles

Before he knows it, you're in the street, moving faster than he thought you could in those shoes. Your destination? The Taco Bell a few hundred feet away. Whoever put it across from the club must be making a killing of all the drunk people.

Logan can feel his anger simmer but he pushes it back down as he catches up with you.

"I need to get you a leash." He says as he makes sure you don't get hit by a car.

"Kinky." You laugh as you pull the door to the fast food restaurant open

You place your order and then tell him to get something for himself. He shakes his head at the annoyed-looking employee.

"He'll have a Crunchwrap." You say confidently like you know his Taco Bell order.

"I don't want one," Logan says

"You're a big guy, you need to eat." You say

Logan sighs but doesn't object. His stomach is grumbling a bit. He reaches into his pocket for his wallet but is stopped by your smaller hand wrapping around his wrist.

"Cut the Sugar Daddy act." You say plainly

Logan's eyes widen as you pull a twenty out of, well, your boobs and hand it to the girl behind the counter. He's not sure how she takes that without disgust. Was it a secret girl code? Boob money?

One Crunchwrap, two classic soft tacos, and a Baja Blast later, he finally has you in the Uber, munching on your food. He doesn't want to admit it, but the greasy food tastes like heaven as he swallows it. It must've been all the alcohol in his system.

You're somehow even drunker as he gets you up the many flights of steps and into the apartment. He tries to shush you and you nearly fall onto your face when he opens the door.

Logan can't tell if it was a good idea to come along for this outing. At least you weren't drunk and alone.

He watches as you flop down onto the couch and begin to pull at your impractical shoes. He sighs and kneels down in front of you, taking your foot in his hand. He curses the little buckle that keeps the heels on you and your giggle fills his ears.

"C'mon time for bed." He says pulling you up.

He leaves you in the bathroom, under strict instructions to brush your teeth as he sneaks into your room, careful not to wake Laura who fell asleep with her headphones on. He rummages through your clothes looking for pajamas. His hands reach for the top drawer of your dresser and Laura's voice has him freezing.

"Third drawer down. That one's got her underwear."

Logan swears his face is redder than Wade's fucking suit as he thanks Laura, blindly pulling a t-shirt and shorts for you to wear.

Back in the bathroom, he's pleased to find you actually brushing your teeth.

"Get changed," Logan says putting the the clothes onto the counter.

You spit in the sink and his eyes nearly pop out of his head when you wiggle out of that damn dress and drop it to the floor. He finds himself spinning around to face the wall, pretending like he didn't see nearly all of you. You had gone out all night without a bra? He could hardly believe it.

"Don't cream your pants." You snicker as he blushes

"Time for bed." You sigh, trying to walk by him.

"Hold on." He grabs you by the waist, spinning you around to face him, "You gotta take that shit off."

"You mean my face?" You ask so dumbly he nearly laughs.

"The makeup." He rolls his eyes

"Ughhh but I want to go to bed." You groan like a child

"Ten minutes ago you asked the driver to take you to Costco so you could get free samples." He raises an eyebrow at your sudden tiredness.

"And now I want to go to bed." You declare

He sighs and quickly picks you up, placing you on the bathroom counter with ease.

"Hey!" You scold, swatting at his hands when he lets them drift too far down towards your ass.

He swears he didn't mean it...He'd never do something perverted like that.

"Stay still." Logan orders, rummaging around in the makeup bag you kept under the sink.

He comes back up with makeup wipes and begins to gently clean your face. It's domestic bliss as he watches your eyes flutter shut under his touch. He feels his heart squeeze as he thinks of the last time he did this for his version of you. It felt like it had been a thousand years since life felt that simple, a life with you in it.

"You're good at this." You sigh, fully relaxed under his hands

"I've had practice." He replies, wiping the dark eyeshadow from your face. You're so much prettier like this, he knows he can't say that out loud though so he holds it in.

"What happened to her?" You ask suddenly

"Don't wanna talk about it." He says

"C'mon. I thought we were supposed to be bonding." You groan

Logan looks at you. You still look utterly wasted, he doubts you'll even remember this tomorrow morning so he decides to throw you a bone.

"I uh...I left her. Ran off like I always do." He sighs tiredly, "She went after me. Tried to convince me to stay with her."

"That's all?" You drunkenly ask

"Drunk myself stupid at some bar and then when I finally grew the balls to go back, it was too late. Humans went mutant hunting and I came back to her and the whole team dead." He said, his eyes fixed on the tiled floor. And even though he had made his peace with it all, he hated thinking about how he failed you.

In front of him, you slowly nod, "At least you know she loved you."

"Doesn't do me much good now. Besides I never got to tell her my own feelings, so why does it even matter?" He grumbles as you open your eyes to look at him. He can't help the way his heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his. Perhaps there's a chance for a do-over in this new life of his. You're right here, a new you is sitting right here in front of him.

"My Logan hated me."

"Was it that star personality of yours?" He finds himself joking, trying to cover up his previous thoughts. He thought about the many fights the two of you had gotten into. He thanked the gods the alcohol was mellowing you out now.

"He was a piece of shit." You glare at him.

Logan raised an eyebrow, wondering what this man had done. Perhaps it was the source of your foul mood towards him now. Whatever it was, it seemed like it was the opposite of whatever he had with his universe's you.

"What'd he do?" He finds himself asking, genuinely curious.

"What didn't he do?" You scoff, glaring at him like he was the cause of your anger.

Logan nods slowly. Perhaps trying to get you to spill your secrets while drunk wasn't the best idea.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He assures

You catch his hand that was moving the wipe down the bridge of your nose.

"I was stupid really." You whisper, "I got attached to an asshole who only had eyes for Jean Grey. He used me to get her attention off of Scott."

Logan lets out a small hum of acknowledgment as he drops the wipe into the sink and lets his hands fall to your thighs. He gently rubs circles over the skin that your sleep shorts leave exposed to his greedy eyes.

"I should've known better, I guess. I mean shit, I agreed to it all being casual when he asked. " You sigh, ""S' my own fault I ended up heartbroken."

You look down at your lap where his hands still rest on your thighs. He can feel the sadness pouring off of you as you speak again,

"I got caught up in a stupid dream, and thought I might've had a chance at calling him mine."

Logan is surprised to see tears falling down your face. He can't help but give into the instinct that's screaming at him, the one to comfort you and chase your sadness away. The tears are hot and land on his hands as he gently hooks a finger under your chin, making you lock those teary eyes with his.

"Hey, what's with the tears?" He asks, "Don't cry for some asshole."

You sniffle again and a fresh wave comes out and runs down your pretty face, "Sometimes, I don't know what's wrong with me. M' always going after the wrong guy."

"Let me tell you something," Logan softly smiles at you, "You are, quite possibly, the most annoying person I've ever encountered."

You let out a scoff followed by half a hiccup, "Thanks, Logan."

"Let me finish, hon," He says, "Even the most annoying version of you doesn't deserve something like that. Y'gotta let that asshole go. There's plenty of other guys out there."

A soft silence beats between the two of you as you nod and let a few more warm tears trickle down your cheeks.

"Still crying?" He smiles

"I can't stop. There's something wrong with me." You laugh a bit

Logan gently runs a thumb over your face, brushing the tears away. It's a familiar gesture, one he used to do often for you.

"What other guys are there? And don't you dare say, Wade." You say, your face serious

Maybe it's the alcohol in his system but Logan tosses his head back and laughs, "You're too good for Wade. Besides he'd drive you nuts."

"He already does." You admit

His own name is on the tip of his tongue. He knows he'd be crazy to say it to you, so he doesn't. You didn't deserve to be burdened with whatever stupid feelings he had towards you. Why should you get stuck with him after you escaped that prick from your universe, everyone deserved a clean slate, even you. Whatever it was he felt would go away eventually. At least he hoped they would.

"Can we go to bed now?" You ask, "Before Al wakes up and tries to shoot us with that gun she keeps in her bedside drawer."

"Course we can." Logan nods, helping you jump off the counter.

He lets you lean on him a bit as you stumble down the hall, still woozy. He slowly pushes your door open, and he knows its self-indulgent but before he lets you go, he presses his lips to your forehead.

He can tell you're flustered by it but you remain silent as you look up at him.

You catch him off guard and gently press your lips to his cheek, "Goodnight, Logan."

"Goodnight," Logan says, hoping the darkness hides the boyish smile that certainly is playing on his lips.

He can't believe that just happened.

Part Four - Coming Soon

I'd like to think secretly the Wolverine from the newest movie is a big softie. Like did you see the way he smiled at Wade when he introduced him to Blind Al? He's just a slightly emo, soft-hearted guy.

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[luna-lovegreat]

Sky vs Hyrule post is coming along great 👍

[gahellhimself-blog]

⚠️important informations⚠️

Hey everyone,

I would like to have a moment to talk about the comic Teach Me with you all.

For some time now, and especially since we reached the end of Chapter 2, I have had a few remarks regarding Mr Fell. I understand the criticism that has been written, and that is why I would like to give a few explanations.

I have been working on this comic since around January, first alone, then with my amazing team (<3).

This story evolved a lot since the beginning; as a remind, or information for anybody who joined this adventure recently, this comic shouldn't have grown to be this size, shouldn't even exist to begin with. It did end up taking a spot in my life and mind that I had not planned for at all.

First of all, because it targets themes that I hold very dear; first one being that of transidentity, especially transmasculinity.

Then, because the characters themselves have evolved with the story as it came to be built as time went by.

I make it my personal mission to ensure that this story makes sense, without it going too far either. This means that I am trying, as much as I can, to keep from targetting scenarios deemed "problematic", which as you all might imagine isn't the easiest to do when the story's backbone is the relationship between a professor and a student.

This means a lot of work, but it is extremely satisfying, as it makes everything more interesting and deeper in its narrative meaning.

I was told several times that "my" Aziraphale is very different from the canon Aziraphale: yes, that is after all an Alternative Universe. The canon character is only the base on which we have built the character of Pr. A. Fell.

I can also understand that it would be troubling; however, all you have seen of the characters until now exists for a reason. I am the first to be sorry that I cannot say more at the moment, but I will have to ask you to trust me: if I am not saying anything more, it is all for the benefit of the story itself, as they will surely take another meaning and dimension once you have every piece of information available to you that will allow you to re-read it under a very different light.

Finally, I would like to clarify one important element:

I staunchly refuse to have relationships between adults and minors or grooming in my stories. As much as I can, I avoid age gaps that would be too jarring, and when I do, it will be for the benefit of the story's coherence; same thing applies to power dynamics and imbalances.

Please do not forget that English isn't my native language: I do not have all the codes of language (I think of the hashtags for example), as they can be very different from the French ones. Therefore, I ask that if you see something that looks jarring in my descriptions or answers, you tell me about it. In order to get better at communicating what I mean, I need to know what I have to correct.

Thank you all, both for your incredible support and your criticism, which allow me to grow better.

Gael

Thanks to @kotias for the translation.

See ya in November (at least) for the chapter 3.

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Ch 10 part 1

masterpost

“Tyranny!” Damian bellowed. His little face was red with fury.

Cass crossed her arms and nodded agreement. She was not accepting any more changes to her life at this time. Things were already happening, too much.

“Nevertheless,” said cruel Batdad. “The pediatric nutritionist will be here tomorrow.” He was trying very hard to seem composed and unaffected by their upset. But he was affected. So affected. And yet he persisted on traveling down the wrong path.

Cass hissed.

Their natural ally, Alfred, put his nose up a little as he cleared the dinner dishes. He sniffed as he left, unhappy-stiff. Cass did not know how he had been defeated. Food was his domain, not some interloper with a pathetic weepy Doctorate of nutritional sciences.

“He designs the meal plans for child Olympians,” Batdad coaxed. He wanted them to like him soooo much. “Standard advice is not necessarily very useful for extreme athletes. You might feel better afterwards. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Gentle, gentle, pleading.

No!!!

Damian stabbed his fork upright into his cinnamon roll and pointed an index finger at their tormentor. “I will not submit. I consume an adequately varied and nutritious diet. Whatever your true aims are, I will not be moved.”

Cass scarfed down her own dessert messily, scowling at Batdad the whole time as if to say: come and take it from me. Can you? You can’t.

Duke watched this with clever eyes darting between Batdad and his siblings. His body said: I don’t care. But I won’t pick Bruce publicly. What can I get? Can I make trouble? 

Hmm. Cass didn’t like that. She narrowed her eyes at him. He should philosophically agree with their cause. She was going to crawl under his bed and hiss, scary sounds to wake him up and go BOO. 

She made a mental note to do that before patrol tonight. If she could even fit it in, jeeze.

Ugh. So busy. Always so much to do.

The tension was high when they trooped to the cave for briefing, before Duke went to bed and everyone else took their pre-patrol nap. Cass lingered sullenly because she wanted to hear Duke’s report on the mechanic. Jacqueline’s apartment had been sneakily snuck through. The conclusion?

“There’s a lot of work clothes in the apartment, but no tools or anything like that. No references or books, aside from a couple of ones from the university library.” Duke fidgeted, micromovement. Not an interesting report. Not an enjoyable detour. “There’s no indication as to what she’s been working on. I took DNA samples off some dirty dishes and hair off the sofa. They’re filed for processing.”

Disappointing. The next step was unclear. Cass frowned. Should they try to observe again? Wait for Jacqueline to leave her lair and follow? Perhaps they should enter the apartment and lurk, ask questions. Tell her: We know your criminal associations. Stop it. Stop it, Jacqueline.

Damian stuck his lips out. He would say: This is not a pout, Cain.

It was a pout.

“I see.” Timbird took notes, fingers flying. Tap tap tap. “You’re passing the case back?”

“It’s all yours,” he said, nodding to Damian. Babybat nodded solemnly. My responsibility. He looked at her. Cass nodded: I have your bat-back. Let’s creep on Jacqueline, as a family.

Hmm. It was too quiet. Usually, there was Batdad commentary. She snuck a look at him even though she and Damian were ignoring him for his cruelties.

Batdad was pondering. He was paying enough attention, but his mind was on something else. Hmm. Cass prodded him. “Ah- Tim, did you upload your conclusions about the Amity Park case?”

Oh. Cass kept her body still, letting it say: I’m bored, I don’t care.

Timbird sighed and ruffled his hair. The gel made a little crackle sound. “It’s a massive government coverup,” he said. Unhappy. “I think a few residents fled, but it looks like it was a mass murder of the residents. The tank tracks came from a subdivision called the GIW, which is ridiculously over militarized.” He opened a file on one of the many Batcomputer screens. It showed a complex of buildings, taken from above. Superboy photography? “They’re doing weapons development, and it appears to be based on the designs of local scientists, also missing.”

“These scientists were affiliated with the GIW?” Batdad asked.

Tim shrugged. “Unclear.” His mouth twitched, unhappy. “There’s evidence of some collaboration, but it seemed a relatively normal exchange of information. Now, the GIW appears to have all their patented inventions and is replicating them.”

“So either these scientists are on staff or they have been removed,” Damibat scowled. A grumpy line formed between his eyebrows. So cute. 

“Removed?” Duke repeated, amused.

“From this mortal coil,” Damibat repeated. Impatient. Keep up, Thomas.  Haha. Cass sniggered and stuck her tongue out. Yeah. Keep up, Duke.

[shalomniscient]

[recommended song: albireo by rokudenashi.]

you love her.

it’s something you’ve always known, really. you’ve loved her since you were kids, sitting on her roof and looking at the stars. you loved her and she loved the stars. they flickered in her eyes every time she would point them out—cassiopeia, orion, pegasus, leo, among many others. she spoke of them like they’re old friends, sharing their stories with you, but most of the time you would get too lost in the sound of her voice to pay attention. you would wish she’d speak your name in that tone.

it’s on a clear night, both of you still in your school uniforms, when she tells you about binary stars. “they’re caught in each others’ gravity,” she explains, grinning, golden eyes as bright as the fiery red of her hair, and you remember thinking it feels familiar. you remember relating. you’ve let yourself get pulled along by her orbit for years now—so much so you think that maybe, without her gravity, you might just fall apart. thne she tells you about albireo; a binary star. points it out to you amongst all the other little lights that hang from the heavens. the glint of albireo’s component stars overlap with each other just like how her fingertips brush yours, and the heat expansion of the universe pulses forward with each beat of your heart. your world gets bigger for every second you spend by her side.

but you learn she’s more like a comet than a star. upon the scale of a human eye, a star is stationary. unmoving. permanent. and she is anything but. there’s a restlessness in her, a longing, but it’s different from yours. the gravity she moves along is not from another—not from you—but from the stars beyond even what is known. she wants to dance from system to system, to know the warmth of a star as she passes by but never to stay. and so you find that part of you isn’t surprised when she says she’s leaving, to venture forth onto the starry rail and the path of a god long gone. “i’ll miss you,” she says, her golden eyes warm with sincerity as she takes her hands in yours, and you want to tell her you will too, but the words lodge in your throat stubbornly. you can only manage them after she’s gone, nothing but a shining light in the sky, but the words burn up in the stratosphere before they reach her.

you still love her.

a year after she departs, a discovery is made. albireo is a false binary—its component stars are light years apart, made to seem close by the illusion of spacetime. you don’t know if you want to laugh or cry at the irony. a binary star that never was, and a love that never was. close enough to taste, far enough to miss. you want to ask her for your heart back, but you don’t even know where you’d put it. she’s had it for so long, even if she doesn’t know. it’s always been hers. so you swallow down the ache in your throat like a burning star, and pick up the phone with a smile when she calls.

(in the distance, albireo shines down on you, alone.)

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— look at this idiotic fool that you made me ; cherish every seconds you have cause you never know when it’ll turn upside down

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

The night stretches long and silent, cloaking your room in a stillness that feels both comforting and stifling. You've been lying there for hours, staring at the white ceiling, tracing invisible patterns with your eyes, trying to will yourself to sleep. But the quiet isn't enough to lull you into rest. Your thoughts keep drifting back to the dinner, the awkward exchanges, the warmth in Tsukishima's gaze that you can't seem to shake.

You roll over in bed, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders, your pink pajamas soft against your skin, but they offer no comfort tonight. The room feels empty now that your parents are gone, their voices and presence lingering only in your memory. It’s strange, this quiet solitude—something you used to cherish before all these new feelings started creeping into your heart.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the bright screen cutting through the darkness. You grab it, blinking to adjust your eyes, and frown when you see the name on the screen.

Tsukishima ; You still up?

Your heart skips a beat, confusion mingling with curiosity. It’s late—much too late for him to be messaging you, especially after saying goodbye to your parents just hours ago. Without thinking, your fingers move swiftly across the screen.

Yeah, why?

His reply comes almost instantly, making your pulse quicken: I’m outside the building. Can you meet me here?

You sit up abruptly, the blanket pooling around your waist as your mind tries to process what he just said. Outside? At this hour? You rub your eyes and glance at the clock—it’s almost midnight. What could he possibly want? For a second, you consider ignoring it, but curiosity gets the better of you.

Throwing the blanket off, you slip your feet into your slippers and grab your student ID before rushing out of your room, your footsteps muffled by the carpeted hallway. The dormitory feels eerily quiet, the soft hum of the heating system the only sound accompanying you as you reach the entrance. The cold air hits you the moment you step outside, and you shiver, cursing yourself for not grabbing a jacket.

Then you see him. Tsukishima, standing just outside the entrance, bathed in the dim glow of the streetlights. He’s wearing his usual hoodie, hands buried deep in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he waits for you. His tall frame is relaxed, yet there’s an intensity in the way he looks at you that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice a little breathless from both the cold and the sudden rush of adrenaline. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to retain some warmth.

Tsukishima’s eyes scan you from head to toe, lingering for a second on your pajamas before meeting your gaze. “It’s cold out here,” he says simply, his voice steady, but there’s an undertone you can’t quite place.

You blink, confused. “Yeah, I know. It’s almost midnight. Why—?”

“And yet you didn’t wear a hoodie before heading out?” He cuts you off, his eyes narrowing slightly as if your lack of common sense is somehow personal to him.

Your mouth opens and closes, flustered by his bluntness. “I—I didn’t think I’d need one. I didn’t plan on staying outside long,” you mumble, suddenly feeling exposed under his sharp gaze.

Tsukishima sighs, the sound filled with mild exasperation, but before you can protest, he’s already unzipping his hoodie. The fabric rustles softly in the quiet night as he drapes it over your shoulders, his hands brushing against your arms as he adjusts it on you. The warmth from his hoodie seeps into your skin, and you’re enveloped in the faint scent of him—clean, slightly musky, with a hint of something fresh and familiar.

You stand there, frozen, as Tsukishima takes it a step further and zips up the hoodie for you, his fingers lingering on the zipper for a beat too long before he steps back. His silence feels like a command, one you don’t dare disobey.

He doesn't say anything, but the way his eyes linger on you makes your heart race. It’s as if he’s silently telling you to wear it—no arguments. You swallow, nodding slightly, unsure of how to respond.

“Come on.” His voice is softer now, as he reaches for your hand, the warmth of his palm sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold. He tugs you gently, guiding you toward his car parked a few feet away.

You follow, too stunned to speak, your mind still reeling from the sudden shift in his demeanor. The wind whips through the open space, biting at your cheeks and making your hair whip around your face. Tsukishima, always composed, doesn’t flinch from the cold, his steps measured and steady as he opens the passenger door for you.

You hesitate for a second, looking at him with wide eyes, but he merely raises an eyebrow, silently urging you to get in. You comply, sliding into the seat as he shuts the door behind you with a quiet click. The interior of his car is warm, a stark contrast to the frigid air outside. You watch as he walks around to the back seat, retrieving something before climbing into the driver’s seat beside you.

When he sits down, there’s a small bakery box in his hands. You tilt your head, confused again, until he opens it to reveal two chocolate muffins, each with a small candle sticking out of the top.

Your mouth drops open slightly. “What…?”

“You didn’t get to eat your cake at dinner,” he explains, his voice casual as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter. “So I brought you something.”

You stare at the muffins, your chest tightening with a mixture of surprise and something else you can’t quite name. “You…did this for me?”

He lights the candles one by one, the soft glow illuminating his face as he nods. “Your mom isn’t around, so you can eat this without her knowing, right?”

His words make you laugh, a light, breathless sound that escapes before you can stop it. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away quickly, smiling at him through the soft haze of candlelight.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat as the weight of his gesture sinks in.

Tsukishima shrugs, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Make a wish.”

You stare at him for a moment, your heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something you’re not quite ready to name. Then, closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and make a wish, blowing out the candles as the soft flames flicker and die.

When you open your eyes, Tsukishima is watching you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your chest tighten all over again. And in that quiet, intimate moment, surrounded by the warmth of his hoodie and the dim glow of the candles, you realize something: you’re no longer alone in the dark.

The warm glow from the streetlamp outside cast a gentle light into the car, highlighting the small, cozy space you shared with Tsukishima. You reached into the box with a soft smile, pulling out the first muffin and holding it toward him.

“Here’s the first one for you,” you teased lightly, eyes sparkling. “You get to eat first ‘cause you’re special.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. “I do?” He placed a hand over his chest dramatically. “Well, thank you, I’m honored.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his playful response. That sweet laugh—the one that always escaped when you felt at ease, when it was just the two of you. You took a bite of your muffin, the flavor melting in your mouth. “Oh wow, this is so good. Where did you get these?”

Tsukishima hummed in acknowledgment, swallowing his bite before answering. “You won’t be able to get these again,” he began, his tone casual but hinting at something more thoughtful, “I found a random cake shop still open late—“

“All for me?” You interrupted him, grinning cheekily as you leaned in a little closer, the air between you becoming more playful, yet intimate.

Tsukishima sighed softly, shaking his head with a small smile. “Yeah… all for you.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind of silence that felt like a warm blanket draped over the two of you. As you ate your muffins, you exchanged small, shy glances, and each look seemed to speak louder than words could. There was something special in the air tonight—something you both felt but weren’t quite ready to address.

Just as you were about to take another bite, Tsukishima’s voice dropped to a low whisper, catching you by surprise. “Have I told you this before?” he began, his gaze softening as he looked at you, “you have a really beautiful smile.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as his words hung in the air. His eyes held a sincerity that made your chest tighten. You blinked, feeling your cheeks flush. “No, you haven’t… but thanks,” you replied shyly, your fingers nervously playing with the muffin wrapper. “You… you have a really nice smile too,” you added, your voice barely audible as you glanced at him bashfully.

Without realizing it, the space between you had slowly diminished. His presence felt closer, warmer, as if the barrier that had always been there had quietly melted away. You couldn’t help but admire the way his glasses framed his face, how his soft eyelashes cast delicate shadows across his skin. His nose scrunched slightly, his brow furrowed in that usual way when he was concentrating, yet somehow, you’d never noticed before how undeniably handsome he was.

Before you could fully process your thoughts, Tsukishima’s hand gently reached out. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made your heart race. The pad of his thumb softly caressed your cheek, and your breath caught in your throat at the sudden contact.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath but carrying so much warmth, so much meaning.

Your lips curled into a soft smile as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the simple happiness that bubbled in your chest. You had never felt this kind of joy before, a joy that was soft and warm, that made you feel completely seen—like you mattered in ways you hadn’t realized until this very moment.

Then, Tsukishima handed you another small box. You blinked, confused at first, before your curiosity took over. “What’s this?” you asked, a mix of excitement and surprise coloring your voice.

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Your present—obviously,” he said with his usual teasing edge, though there was a softness to his tone now, an almost shy undertone.

You opened the box, and inside was a delicate bracelet. Its design was simple yet elegant, a perfect reflection of your style. You gasped, eyes widening as you stared at it, then back at him. “No way, seriously?” You covered your mouth with your hand in disbelief, your heart swelling with joy.

Tsukishima chuckled softly, his fingers gently taking the bracelet from the box as he clasped it around your wrist. His touch was light, but the simple action sent a jolt of warmth through you. “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“I love it!” you exclaimed, your excitement overflowing as you reached out and squeezed his hand without thinking. “Thank you so much.”

He didn’t say anything, just smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. And in that moment, your gaze locked with his, and the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. The silence between you was no longer awkward or empty—it was filled with something unspoken but deeply understood.

Your fingers, almost on their own, intertwined with his. You squeezed his hand gently, feeling the nervous energy building inside you, but it wasn’t the kind of nervousness that made you uneasy. It was the kind that made you feel alive, like something important was about to happen.

You opened your mouth, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I like you,” you whispered, the confession hanging in the air between you. Your voice trembled slightly as you continued, feeling your heart pound against your chest. “I don’t know when it started, but… you always make me feel seen. I… I really like you, Tsukishima. I can’t stop thinking about you, and sometimes I feel like my heart’s going to burst because it’s all just too much. I—”

You stopped abruptly, noticing the subtle shift in his expression. His teasing smile had vanished, replaced by something unreadable. Slowly, he pulled away from you, retreating back into his seat, his gaze now fixed on the windshield. The warmth that had filled the car moments ago suddenly felt cold, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Your heart dropped, and you blinked rapidly to push away the sting of tears. “I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t have to say anything. I—”

You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The awkwardness hung thick in the air, suffocating your chest. You glanced at him, hoping for any response, but Tsukishima remained silent, staring out of the window.

Feeling a sharp pang of rejection, you hastily removed his hoodie, folding it neatly before opening the car door. “Thanks for tonight,” you murmured, your voice wavering. “I—really appreciated it.”

Before he could respond, you stepped out of the car and shut the door, your legs carrying you swiftly back to the dorm. Tears blurred your vision as you reached the building, your heart aching with every step.

By the time you reached your room, your heart felt heavy, and the thoughts spiraled in your mind. You threw yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the pillow.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself, replaying the events of the night over and over again. All this time, you thought you had seen something in his actions—the compliments, the gentle moments, the way he seemed to go out of his way to help you. But now… you weren’t so sure.

Was it all in your head? Was Tsukishima just being kind, and you had misread the signs? You weren’t sure of anything anymore, except for one thing: your heart ached with every beat.

The dorm room felt colder than usual as you curled into a tight ball on your bed, hugging your knees close to your chest. The bracelet on your wrist shimmered faintly under the low light of your lamp, reminding you of the bittersweet memory that had unfolded just moments ago. Your confession replayed in your mind—over and over again—each repetition twisting your heart a little tighter.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the embarrassment that bubbled up inside you. Tsukishima’s silence, his sudden retreat, it all played like a bad dream. And now, you weren’t even sure if you could face him again.

Burying your face into the pillow, you let out a frustrated groan, “Why did I say that? Why now?”

But no matter how many times you questioned it, the truth remained: you liked him. There was no denying it anymore, no pretending that your feelings weren’t there. They were real, and they had spilled out of you like water breaking through a dam.

Maybe you should’ve waited. Maybe you should’ve held back a little longer, but then, how much longer could you have gone pretending that your heart didn’t skip a beat every time he smiled at you?

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr @thechaosoflonging @monya-febrjack

[engeorged]

Harry's Stag - Part One

As I stepped out of the taxi, the cool Amsterdam air washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile. The canals, the narrow streets, the lively hum of the city—it was just what I needed. A lads’ weekend with my best mates, a chance to unwind before I marry the man of my dreams.

I glanced at the guys, a wave of affection washing over me. Jim and I had been mates since we were kids, practically growing up together. Tall, lean, with that rugged, outdoorsy vibe and piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut through any nonsense, Jim was the steady one—the rock who always kept us grounded.

Banning and Noel came into our lives during university when we all played rugby together. Banning, with his quiet confidence and sharp mind, was always thinking a few steps ahead. He had this knack for coming up with a plan, making sure we stayed out of trouble and found our way home in one piece. Then there’s Noel—scruffy, blonde, and a bit shorter than the rest of us, but with a cheeky grin that could charm his way out of any mess he managed to get himself into. He was the joker of the group, ensuring we were never bored.

And then there’s me, Harry, the soon-to-be groom, the guy who’s somehow managed to land the most amazing man in the world. Jason is everything I’ve ever wanted—6’5, blonde, and brilliant, working in finance but with a heart of gold. He’s got this mix of confidence and kindness that makes me fall for him all over again every time I see him. I’m the luckiest guy on the planet, and I know it.

But right now, all I want is to forget about the wedding planning and just enjoy this weekend with the guys. We’ve been through so much together—high school dramas, university antics, and everything life has thrown at us since. This weekend is our chance to let loose, to celebrate before everything changes.

The morning light filtered through the curtains as I woke up, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement. Today was going to be one for the books. After a quick shower, I headed downstairs with the guys to tackle the hotel’s breakfast buffet. I’d always seen buffets as a bit of a challenge—something I’d perfected during our rugby trips in uni when the lads and I would try to outdo each other with how much we could eat.

The spread was impressive: stacks of pancakes, sizzling sausages, crispy bacon, eggs done every way imaginable, and fresh pastries that looked like they’d come straight out of a bakery. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I grabbed a plate, ready to dive in.

Jim, always the early riser, was already at the buffet, piling food onto his plate. “Morning, mate,” he said with a grin. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“You know me,” I replied, grabbing a bit of everything and then some. “Never one to turn down a good breakfast.”

We settled at a table, and I started working through my plate, enjoying the food and the banter. Before I could even make a dent in my meal, Noel appeared with a plate stacked high with more food. “Mate, you’ve got to try these pancakes,” he said, dropping them onto my plate without waiting for a reply.

I laughed, not thinking much of it. “Alright, alright, keep them coming.”

Banning, ever the strategist, chimed in as he sat down. “You’re missing out on the scrambled eggs. Here, have some more,” he said, adding a generous portion to my plate.

As we ate, the conversation flowed, and I found myself reminiscing about our old rugby trips. “Remember that all-you-can-eat steakhouse in Leeds?” I asked, chuckling. “I think I put away enough to feed a small army that night.”

Jim nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Yeah, and you still managed to play the next day. You’ve always had a hollow leg when it comes to food.”

They kept the food coming, and I kept eating, not really noticing how often one of them would toss something extra onto my plate. I was too caught up in the nostalgia, the friendly competition from our uni days, and the general excitement of the weekend.

But as I started on my third plate, I felt a familiar tightness in my stomach. The kind that crept in during those old eating challenges when I’d push myself just a bit too far. My belly was starting to feel heavy, the waistband of my jeans pressing uncomfortably against my skin. I shifted in my seat, trying to ease the growing discomfort.

Still, I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge—even a self-imposed one. I kept eating, even as my stomach began to bloat, pushing out slightly against my shirt. Each bite was a little slower, the food sitting heavily in my gut. I could feel my belly rounding out, the once-flat surface curving just a bit more with each mouthful.

“Feeling full yet?” Jim asked an innocent enough question, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“A bit,” I admitted, patting my stomach, which was now firm and slightly swollen. “But you know me—never one to quit while I’m ahead.”

The guys exchanged quick glances, subtle but not lost on me. I shrugged it off, thinking they were just reminiscing about old times like I was. But deep down, I had a nagging feeling that they were up to something. Still, I was too focused on the food and the fun to really care.

As I polished off the last of my pancakes, the tightness in my belly became more pronounced. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my slightly rounded stomach, feeling the pressure building inside. Regret started to creep in—a familiar sensation from those rugby days when I’d pushed my limits a bit too far. My shirt stretched a little tighter across my middle, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I should’ve shown some restraint.

But then I caught myself. I’d eaten way more than this before, especially during those wild university days. This was nothing compared to some of the eating challenges I’d taken on—and won. A bit of bloat wasn’t going to slow me down. I could handle it, no problem.

With that in mind, I shrugged off the discomfort. It was just breakfast, after all, and we had a whole day ahead of us. “Right, lads,” I said, standing up and stretching, trying to shake off the heaviness in my gut. “What’s next on the agenda?”

Jim clapped me on the back, and I could feel the tension in my overstuffed stomach as he did. “Let’s head out and explore, mate. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

I nodded, determined to push through the fullness. I reminded myself that this was all part of the fun, and I could definitely handle more. With one last glance at the table, I followed the guys out the door, ready to see what the day had in store.

As we headed out into the bustling streets of Amsterdam, the food still sitting heavily in my stomach, I told myself I was just being paranoid. These guys were my best friends—they wouldn’t pull anything on me, especially not right before my wedding.

After finishing breakfast, we decided to take in some of the sights. Amsterdam was a beautiful city, and I was excited to explore it with my best mates. The weather was perfect—clear skies and a gentle breeze, making it an ideal day for wandering around.

We started by visiting some of the city's iconic spots, like the Anne Frank House and the Van Gogh Museum. But as we strolled along the canals and through the narrow streets, I could feel the heaviness in my belly from the massive breakfast easing a bit. By late morning, we found ourselves at one of the bustling local markets. The place was alive with vibrant colours, delicious smells, and the chatter of vendors selling everything from fresh produce to local delicacies. It was the kind of place where you could easily lose track of time, wandering from stall to stall, sampling the best that Amsterdam had to offer.

"Harry, check this out!" Banning called out, waving me over to a stall where a vendor was selling fresh stroopwafels, still warm from the griddle. He handed me one, and before I could even think about whether I was hungry, I found myself biting into the sweet, caramel-filled treat. It was delicious, the perfect balance of chewy and crunchy, and despite the fullness I still felt, I had to admit it was hard to resist.

"How about some cheese?" Noel chimed in, appearing beside me with a small platter of local Dutch cheeses. He popped a piece into my mouth before I could protest, grinning as I chewed. The rich, creamy flavours melted on my tongue, and I couldn’t help but smile at how good it tasted.

As we moved through the market, the guys made sure I didn’t miss a thing. Every few steps, they’d find something new for me to try—a slice of fresh apple pie here, a handful of chocolate-covered nuts there. They seemed to be in a competition to see who could find the most delicious treats, and I was the unwitting contestant.

“Harry, you’ve got to try these!” Jim called out, holding up a tray of poffertjes, tiny Dutch pancakes dusted with powdered sugar. He handed me the tray, and before I knew it, I was popping the fluffy little pancakes into my mouth, one after another.

With each bite, my belly grew heavier, the tightness from breakfast now back and mixed with the new wave of food. But the guys kept bringing me more, their excitement and enthusiasm contagious. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, watching as I dutifully sampled everything they put in front of me.

At one point, I realised I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. “Guys, I think I’m good for now,” I said, laughing nervously as I held up a hand to stop another treat from making its way into my mouth.

“Fuck that!” Banning said, laughing. “We’re just getting started. You’ve got to experience everything, mate!”

Despite my growing discomfort, I couldn’t help but go along with it. After all, this was supposed to be a weekend of indulgence, and I didn’t want to be the one to spoil the fun. So I kept eating, letting the guys guide me from stall to stall, each new bite adding to the growing pressure in my belly.

By the time we were ready to leave the market, I could barely keep track of everything I’d eaten. My stomach felt impossibly full, a heavy, warm weight pressing against my waistband. As we walked away, I noticed the guys exchanging amused glances, but they didn’t say anything, and I didn’t push it.

As we left the market, I was feeling stuffed from all the sampling, but the guys weren't done with me yet. Just as we were about to head back towards the city centre, Banning spotted a stall selling fresh pastries. The aroma of warm, buttery dough filled the air, making my mouth water despite the heaviness already sitting in my gut.

“Hold up, lads,” Banning said, veering off toward the stall. “We can’t leave without taking some of these with us!”

Before I could protest, he was at the counter, ordering a large bag of assorted pastries—croissants, danishes, and something that looked like a massive cinnamon roll, all warm and fresh from the oven.

“Here you go, Harry,” he said, shoving the bag into my hands with a grin. “Something to snack on as we walk.”

I chuckled, trying to hide my unease at the thought of eating anything more. “You sure you guys don’t want to share these?”

“Oh, we’ll help,” Jim said, but I noticed the sly smile on his face. “But you’ve got to lead the charge, mate. You’re the groom, after all.”

With no real way to refuse without seeming like a party pooper, I sighed and reached into the bag. The croissant I pulled out was soft and flaky, practically melting in my hands. I took a bite, the buttery richness spreading across my tongue, and I had to admit—it was damn good.

As we walked, I found myself nibbling on the pastries, more out of habit than hunger. The guys encouraged me with every bite, grabbing a pastry here and there, but always making sure the majority of them ended up in my hands.

By the time we reached our next destination, the bag was nearly empty, and I felt like I was carrying a lead weight in my belly. The waistband of my jeans was digging into my skin, and I subtly tried to adjust it to relieve some of the pressure. The guys, of course, were loving every minute of it, exchanging knowing looks as I dutifully finished off the last pastry. 

I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were up to something, but for now, all I could focus on was the heavy, bloated sensation in my gut. It was hard to believe I could still stand, let alone keep eating, but with the lads around, I knew there was no way I’d get out of it. 

After leaving the market with my belly full of pastries, we found ourselves wandering through the winding streets of Amsterdam again. The city was buzzing with life, tourists mingling with locals, and the smell of food and drink filled the air. My stomach was still groaning from all the food I'd packed into it, but when the guys suggested stopping for some beers, I figured it might help take the edge off.

“Let’s hit up a few local breweries,” Jim suggested, his eyes lighting up. “We can’t leave Amsterdam without trying some of the best beer in the world.”

I agreed, hoping that a few drinks might dull the ache in my overstuffed belly. The first brewery we hit was small and cosy, with wooden tables and an impressive selection of local brews. The guys ordered a round of pints, and I gladly accepted mine, taking a long, deep sip. The cold, bitter beer slid down my throat, and I could feel it spreading warmth through my chest.

The first pint went down easily, and for a moment, I almost forgot how full I was. The alcohol worked its magic, numbing the uncomfortable pressure in my stomach. The guys were in high spirits, laughing and joking as we finished our beers and moved on to the next brewery.

By the time we reached the third stop, I was starting to feel a bit more relaxed. The bloated sensation in my gut was still there, but the beer had taken the edge off. Each point seemed to settle on top of the food in my belly, adding to the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through my body.

The guys were keeping pace with me, ordering pints at each stop and making sure I always had one in my hand. I knew I should slow down, but the alcohol was doing its job, and I found myself caring less and less about how full I was. Instead, I focused on enjoying the moment, the camaraderie, and the laughter of my best friends.

At the fifth brewery, the drinks started to catch up with me. My head was buzzing, and the bloated feeling in my stomach was returning, more pronounced than before. I tried to keep up with the guys, but I could feel my belly straining against the waistband of my jeans, each sip of beer adding to the swelling pressure.

I glanced down at my gut, now noticeably rounder and heavier than it had been earlier in the day. The fullness was almost overwhelming, but the beers had numbed me enough that I could push through it, at least for a while longer.

Jim noticed me looking at my stomach and clapped me on the back. “You alright, mate? You’re keeping up like a champ!”

I managed a grin, even though I could feel the tightness in my belly with every breath. “Yeah, just feeling it a bit,” I admitted.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost done with the tour,” Noel said, raising his glass. “Just a couple more, and then we can grab some food to soak it all up.”

The mention of food made my stomach churn, but I pushed the thought aside and lifted my pint in a toast. As we moved on to the final stop, I could feel the beers sloshing around inside me, mingling with the pastries and everything else I’d consumed that day. 

But the guys were right—the beers had dulled the ache, at least for now, and I was too buzzed to care about what might come next.

By the time we reached the final brewery on our tour, my belly had become an undeniable presence—both to me and, I suspected, to anyone who glanced in my direction. It felt like a boulder, heavy and firm, pressing outwards against the fabric of my shirt. The once-flat surface was now a taut, rounded dome, the skin stretched tight and smooth. Every step I took made it sway slightly, a reminder of just how much I’d eaten.

I rubbed my swollen middle, trying to ease the growing pressure. Suddenly, a deep belch forced its way up, loud and unexpected. The guys turned, grinning, and immediately erupted into cheers.

“There he is!” Noel laughed, clapping me on the back, which only made my belly slosh uncomfortably. “That’s the spirit, mate!”

Another belch rumbled up, and this time I didn’t even try to hold it back. The guys whooped and cheered even louder, egging me on as I laughed along with them.

“Keep ‘em coming!” Banning shouted, raising his pint in a mock toast.

I shook my head, grinning as yet another burp escaped me. The relief was temporary, though, as the pressure inside me continued to build. Every step made my belly jiggle slightly, and I could feel just how bloated I was becoming. The gas from all that beer wasn’t helping, either, making me feel even more stuffed than I already was.

I couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. The lads were loving it, and there was something satisfying about knowing I could still outdo them, just like in the old days. Even if my stomach felt like it was about to burst, the cheers and laughter made it all worth it.

Despite the discomfort, there was a part of me that was fascinated by how much my body had changed in just a few short hours. My normally lean frame had been overtaken by this massive, swollen belly, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer volume I’d managed to pack away.

The guys noticed, too. I caught Banning’s eye as he glanced at my gut, and he grinned, clearly impressed. ��That’s one hell of a belly, Harry,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “You’ve really outdone yourself today.”

Jim nodded in agreement, raising his pint in a toast. “To Harry’s belly,” he said with a laugh. “May it keep growing!”

The others joined in, their laughter filling the air as I gave a half-hearted chuckle. I could feel my stomach stretching even more as I took another sip of beer, the pressure building to a point that was almost unbearable.

As we finished our drinks, I leaned back in my chair, trying to find some relief from the tightness. My belly was now a prominent, round sphere, pressing outwards with a fullness that I couldn’t ignore. It was a strange mix of discomfort and pride—I’d never seen myself like this before, and despite the ache, there was something almost amusing about the sheer size of my belly.

By early afternoon, I was starting to feel the effects of our beer-filled morning. My head was buzzing pleasantly, and my steps were just a bit slower as we made our way through the bustling streets. I was thinking about suggesting a quick stop back at the hotel to freshen up, but before I could, Noel was already leading us toward our next destination.

“We’ve got a special lunch spot lined up, Harry,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Proper local place. None of that touristy crap.”

I was too relaxed to argue, letting him steer me down a side street and into a large, rustic-looking restaurant. The inside was all dark wood and heavy beams, with long communal tables and the rich smell of roasting meat filling the air. My stomach rumbled in spite of the heaviness I was already feeling, and I figured a good meal might help soak up some of the beer.

We found a spot at the end of one of the tables, and Noel didn’t even bother with menus. “We’ll take four of your specials,” he told the waitress with a wink, and she nodded, jotting it down before disappearing into the kitchen.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing around at the other diners. Most of them were locals, digging into plates piled high with food, glasses of cider clinking together in toasts. It was lively, warm, and exactly the kind of place that made you feel at home, even halfway across the world.

“So, what’s the special?” I asked, eyeing Noel suspiciously.

“Wait and see,” he grinned, taking a long pull from the glass of cider that had just been set in front of him. “You’re gonna love it.”

Moments later, the food arrived, and my eyes widened as the waitress set a huge platter in front of each of us. There, in the centre, was a whole roasted chicken, crispy and golden, surrounded by a mountain of fresh bread and a full litre of cider.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, staring at the feast. It looked incredible, but there was no way I could finish all that. “You guys trying to kill me?”

Banning smirked, already tearing into his bread. “Consider it a challenge.”

“Come on, Harry,” Jim chimed in, pulling a hunk of chicken off the bone. “You said you were hungry this morning.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean all day,” I laughed, even as I reached for my fork. The smell of the roasted chicken was too tempting to resist, and I figured I could at least make a dent in it.

We dug in, the conversation flowing easily between bites of juicy chicken and sips of the strong, dry cider. The bread was warm and crusty, perfect for soaking up the rich drippings from the chicken, and despite my full stomach, I found myself going back for more, over and over.

The guys were relentless, though, nudging the bread my way whenever I slowed down, refilling my cider glass before I’d even finished it. Every time I thought I was done, Jim would carve off another piece of chicken and drop it onto my plate, or Noel would push the bread basket back toward me with a grin.

“You’ve got to try this with the cider,” Noel insisted, handing me a slice of bread slathered in the drippings. “Trust me, it’s worth it.”

I took the bread, biting into it with a mix of enjoyment and trepidation. It was delicious, of course, but I was starting to reach the point where every bite felt like a struggle. My stomach was stretched tight, the combination of beer, cider, and food weighing me down.

But there was something infectious about their enthusiasm, the way they kept the mood light and fun, and I couldn’t bring myself to say no. These were my best mates, and they were making sure I had the time of my life. What was a little discomfort in the grand scheme of things?

“Only the best for you,” Noel added with a wink, though there was a glint in his eye that made me wonder just how much more they had planned for me.

After finishing the meal, I leaned back in my chair, feeling utterly stuffed. My usually firm belly was now uncomfortably stretched, the tightness pressing against my shirt. The button on my jeans felt like it was about to pop, and I had to loosen my belt a notch to alleviate some of the pressure.

The full feeling wasn’t just in my stomach but seemed to radiate through my entire body. Every bite of the juicy chicken and every piece of bread had added to the bloated sensation, and the cider had only intensified it. My stomach was protruding noticeably, an unfamiliar softness replacing the tight abs I’d worked so hard to maintain. It felt heavy, like a weight pressing down from within.

I looked around at my friends, trying to ignore the discomfort, but the sight of their grins and the way they patted their own full bellies didn’t help. “I think I might have overdone it,” I admitted with a chuckle, rubbing my distended stomach.

“No way, mate,” Jim said, giving me a friendly thump on the back. “You’re just getting into the spirit of things.”

“Yeah, you’ve got to stay in top form,” Noel added, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You don’t want to be the one to miss out.”

Despite the lighthearted teasing, I could barely move, feeling the fullness with every breath. I glanced down at my bulging belly, the fabric of my shirt straining against the roundness. It was a far cry from the trim figure I was used to seeing.

As we finally left the restaurant, I had to walk slowly, my steps deliberate and careful. Each movement reminded me of just how much I’d eaten, and I knew that if I didn’t get some relief soon, the discomfort would only grow. But with the guys still in high spirits, I knew the day was far from over, and whatever they had planned next, I’d have to muster the energy to keep up.

As we left the restaurant, the afternoon started to blur together. The combination of food and cider had left me pleasantly tipsy, and the usual sharpness of my thoughts had softened. My bloated stomach felt heavy, but the excitement of the city kept me moving, albeit at a slower pace.

After the epic lunch, I was convinced I couldn't possibly eat another bite. My stomach was so full and bloated that it felt like a lead weight was strapped to me, each step making my distended gut jiggle slightly under my shirt.

We started walking again, heading toward the canals for a leisurely afternoon tour. The sun was shining, reflecting off the water as we strolled along the cobblestone streets. I tried to focus on the sights—the charming, narrow buildings, the boats gliding by—but the heavy, stuffed feeling in my gut was impossible to ignore. Every step made me acutely aware of just how much space my belly was taking up, stretching my shirt tight across the firm, rounded expanse.

We hadn’t gone far before we passed a street vendor selling fresh Bitterballen. The savoury aroma of deep-fried goodness filled the air, making my stomach rumble despite the fullness. Bitterballen are traditional Dutch snacks, deep-fried balls filled with a rich, creamy beef or veal ragout, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. They’re often enjoyed with a dollop of mustard.

Noel, ever the enthusiast, was already haggling with the vendor before I could even process what was happening. “Harry’s got to try these!” he said, handing over a few euros and grabbing a serving of the hot, golden balls.

“Mate, I’m so full I can barely move,” I protested weakly, but Noel just grinned and handed me a paper cone filled with Bitterballen.

“Come on, you’ve got room for one more,” he said, winking. “It’s part of the experience.”

I took the cone and popped one of the Bitterballen into my mouth. The crispy exterior gave way to a rich, creamy filling that was both indulgent and comforting. Despite the tightness in my belly, the flavour was irresistible. With each bite, I could feel the food settling heavily on top of everything else I’d eaten, adding to the relentless pressure in my gut.

We continued along the canal, and it wasn’t long before Jim spotted another vendor—this time selling churros dusted with cinnamon sugar. He practically sprinted over, eager to buy a bag for me before Banning could get there first.

“Here you go, Harry,” Jim said, thrusting the warm bag into my hands. “You’ve got to keep your energy up!”

I stared at the churros, my stomach groaning in protest at the mere thought of eating more. But the guys were watching me expectantly, their excitement palpable. I couldn’t let them down, so I forced myself to take a bite.

The churro was crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, and coated with just the right amount of cinnamon sugar. It was delicious, but as I swallowed, I felt my belly swell even more, the tightness becoming almost unbearable. Each bite seemed to expand my gut further, stretching the skin to its limits.

“Harry, you’re a machine!” Banning laughed, clapping me on the back as I forced down the last of the churros. “I don’t know how you’re doing it.”

Neither did I. My stomach was now so full that it was starting to feel rock-hard, a firm, rounded dome that pushed out from under my shirt with every breath. The waistband of my jeans was cutting painfully into my sides, and I could feel my skin pulling tight over the swollen mass of my belly. I wanted to stop, to sit down and let my overstuffed gut settle, but the guys weren’t having any of it.

We passed another vendor, this one selling warm, cheesy croquettes, and before I could even protest, Banning had bought a handful and was offering them to me.

“Last ones, I promise,” he said with a mischievous grin, though I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was far from finished.

I took one, biting into the crispy, gooey centre, and immediately felt another surge of fullness. My stomach was now a tight, distended ball, and each bite made it feel like I was stretching it to the breaking point. But the guys kept egging me on, practically shoving the croquettes into my hands as we walked.

By the time we finally finished the canal tour, my belly was truly enormous—a swollen, overfilled sphere that jutted out in front of me, heavy and round. The tightness was almost unbearable, and I could barely stand up straight, the weight of my gut pulling me forward with every step. 

And yet, despite it all, I couldn’t help but laugh along with the guys, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. My friends were practically fighting over who got to feed me next, and I was helpless to stop them. My once-lean frame had been transformed into something out of a cartoon, my shirt now riding up to expose the pale, stretched skin of my bloated belly.

As we headed back toward the city centre, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over. The day was still young, and the guys seemed determined to see just how much more they could cram into me. And as much as I wanted to protest, I knew deep down that I wasn’t going to stop them.

By the time the afternoon sun started to dip, I was struggling. Every step felt like a monumental effort, the heavy, swollen mass of my belly swaying in front of me, throwing off my balance. It had gone from feeling full and stretched to being outright painful, a tight, solid ball that was almost too much to bear. The guys were still in high spirits, laughing and joking as we walked, but I was finding it hard to keep up. 

"Guys," I groaned, finally coming to a stop and placing a hand on my distended gut. "I need a break. Can we head back to the hotel for a bit? Just a quick snooze, let my stomach settle."

I was expecting some pushback, but surprisingly, they all nodded in agreement. Maybe they could see the strain on my face, or maybe they were just ready for a break too. Either way, we turned in the direction of the hotel, and I started to imagine the sweet relief of lying down and letting my poor, overworked belly rest.

But of course, it wasn’t going to be that simple.

As we rounded a corner, we passed a small, bustling shop with a line of people snaking out the door. The smell of fried potatoes and various toppings filled the air, and Jim’s eyes lit up when he spotted the sign.

“Wait a second,” he said, grabbing my arm and pointing toward the shop. “This is the place I’ve been telling you about! They make these famous fries with all sorts of toppings. We’ve got to try it.”

I felt a knot of dread tighten in my already cramped stomach. “Jim, I’m seriously about to burst here. I don’t think I can fit anything else in.”

But Jim wasn’t having it. “Come on, Harry, you can’t come all the way to Amsterdam and not try this. It’s part of the experience! We’ll just get one big platter to share, no big deal.”

Banning and Noel were already nodding along enthusiastically, and before I could argue any further, they were steering me toward the door. Inside, the place was a fry-lover’s paradise—massive trays of golden fries, each topped with a ridiculous amount of extras, from melted cheese to pulled pork, jalapeños, and creamy sauces.

We ordered the biggest platter they had, a monstrosity as wide as the table itself, piled high with fries and every topping imaginable. It was the sort of thing meant for a group of a dozen, not four guys who had already been eating all day. The sight of it alone made my stomach lurch in protest.

I tried to push back. “Guys, seriously, this is insane. I can’t eat all this.”

But Banning grinned at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll help, don’t worry. But you’ve got to at least give it a shot, Harry. Think of it as a challenge.”

I knew there was no way out, not with all three of them looking at me like that. So, with a resigned sigh, I picked up a fork and dug in.

The first few bites were delicious, the crispy fries and rich toppings a perfect combination. But with every mouthful, I could feel my stomach stretching further, pushing against my waistband and straining the limits of my shirt. The tightness that had been a constant presence all day was now bordering on unbearable, a pressure that made it hard to focus on anything other than the sheer fullness of my gut.

Still, the guys kept urging me on, and somehow, I kept going. They were making a show of eating their share, but it was clear that most of the food was ending up in front of me. Every time I slowed down, they’d shove another forkful of loaded fries in my direction, laughing and cheering me on like it was some sort of competition.

“Harry’s taking the lead!” Noel shouted at one point, and the others whooped in agreement. 

I felt like I was in a daze, barely able to comprehend what I was doing as I continued to eat. My belly was now so bloated that it was pressing against the edge of the table, a round, firm dome that seemed to be growing larger with each bite. My shirt was stretched tight across the distended curve of my gut, and I could feel the seams straining with every breath.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I dropped my fork, unable to eat another bite. The platter was mostly empty, but my stomach felt like it was about to burst. I leaned back in my chair, groaning as the pressure in my belly intensified. It was a strange mix of pain and satisfaction, the kind of fullness that made it impossible to do anything but sit there and let my body digest.

The guys, of course, were loving it. They were all grins and high-fives, clearly proud of themselves for pushing me to this point.

“You’re a legend, Harry,” Banning said, clapping me on the back with a laugh. “I don’t know how you did it.”

I didn’t either. All I knew was that my belly was now so swollen and distended that I could barely move. It jutted out in front of me like a solid, round ball, the skin stretched tight and smooth over the massive bulge. I could feel every inch of it, the fullness pressing down on my lungs and making it hard to breathe, let alone think.

As we finally left the fry shop and started heading back to the hotel, I could barely keep up, my gait slow and awkward as I tried to accommodate the heavy mass of my gut. It felt like I was carrying a bowling ball strapped to my stomach, the weight of it pulling me forward with every step.

And yet, as uncomfortable as I was, there was a part of me that couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size of my belly. I’d never been this full in my life, never even imagined it was possible to eat this much. It was almost impressive in a way, and despite everything, I found myself laughing along with the guys as we made our way back to the hotel.

By the time we finally made it back to the hotel, I was exhausted. My belly was so full and heavy that each step felt like a challenge, and the thought of just lying down was the only thing keeping me going. As we entered the room, the guys were still buzzing with energy, laughing and recounting the day’s events, but I could hardly focus on their words. All I could think about was getting out of my too-tight clothes and giving my aching stomach some relief.

I headed straight for the bathroom, barely pausing to acknowledge the banter going on behind me. Closing the door, I leaned against the sink for a moment, taking a deep breath as I let the tension drain from my shoulders. Then, with a grunt of discomfort, I began the laborious task of peeling off my clothes.

First, I unbuttoned my jeans, which had been digging into my sides for hours. The moment the button popped open, my belly surged forward, free from its confines at last. I couldn’t help but gasp slightly at the sensation—the relief was immediate, but the sheer weight of my gut was startling. I tugged the waistband down over my hips, letting the jeans fall to the floor, before yanking off my shirt, which had been stretched to its limits.

Once I was finally free of my clothes, I turned to face the mirror, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks. My belly—normally flat and firm—was now a completely different shape, swollen and rounded out in front of me like a tightly inflated balloon. The curve of it was almost shocking, jutting out so far that it seemed impossible it was my own body. My skin was stretched taut over the massive dome, with the light fur that usually covered my stomach now spread thin and sparse across the smooth, distended surface. 

I reached out tentatively, running a hand over the swell of my gut. It felt solid and unyielding, the kind of fullness that left no room for anything else. My fingers brushed against the fine hair that coated my belly, usually soft but now pulled taut over the curve, emphasising the tightness of my skin. The fur seemed almost out of place on such a massively bloated belly, a reminder of how much my body had changed in just a few short hours.

I took a step back, turning slightly to see my profile, and my eyes widened at the sight. The curve of my belly was even more pronounced from the side, a heavy, rounded bulge that hung low and full. It almost didn’t look real—like something out of a cartoon, exaggerated and impossible. And yet, there it was, a testament to just how much I had consumed.

I stood there for a moment, just staring at myself in the mirror. I knew I’d eaten a lot, but seeing the evidence in front of me like this was almost surreal. I couldn’t believe how much I’d managed to pack away—how much my belly had expanded to accommodate it all. I looked like I’d swallowed a beach ball whole, my normally lean frame now dominated by this massive, swollen gut.

A mix of shock and disbelief washed over me. I’d seen my belly bloated before—college eating challenges had often left me stuffed, but never like this. This was on another level entirely. I could feel the weight of it, the sheer fullness pressing down on me, making it hard to stand upright. Every movement made my gut jiggle slightly, a constant reminder of how tightly packed it was with food.

Despite the discomfort, there was something almost fascinating about it. The sight of my body so utterly transformed, my belly swollen beyond anything I’d ever thought possible, was strangely compelling. It was as if I’d crossed some invisible line, entered a new territory where my body was no longer my own but something else entirely—something massive and insatiable.

I ran my hand over the curve of my gut one more time, feeling the tightness beneath my palm, the way my skin stretched over the fullness. Then, with a deep breath, I turned away from the mirror and headed back into the room, where the guys were waiting. 

I stumbled out of the bathroom, still in a daze from the sight of my bloated belly, and made my way to the bed. My legs were heavy, my body protesting with every step as the weight of my overstuffed gut dragged me down. As soon as I reached the edge of the bed, I let myself fall backward, the mattress groaning beneath me as I sprawled out on top of the covers. The sensation of finally lying down was a relief beyond words. My belly, round and tight, stretched upward, and I could feel the strain in my skin as it tried to accommodate the ridiculous amount of food I’d packed away.

I let out a long, contented sigh, resting a hand on the taut dome of my stomach. It was firm to the touch, barely giving under the pressure of my fingers. My eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, I was lost in the sensation of being so full, so heavy, so utterly stuffed.

The sound of laughter pulled me from my reverie. The guys were still buzzing with energy, moving around the room as they started to get ready for whatever was coming next. Jim was the first to strip off his shirt, revealing a flat but slightly rounded belly—nothing compared to mine, but still showing signs of the indulgence we’d all participated in today. He patted it with a grin, turning to show it off to Banning and Noel.

"Look at this," Jim said, chuckling. "I’m usually flat as a board, but today... man, I’m starting to show a little gut. Must have been all those pastries at the market."

Banning, who was already down to his boxers, laughed and flexed his own stomach, which was a bit bloated  than usual but nowhere near as distended as mine. "Yeah, I’m feeling it too. I think I’m still carrying around half that platter of fries we demolished earlier."

Noel joined in, lifting his shirt to reveal his own slightly swollen belly. "Same here. It’s like we’ve all turned into little food balloons, but I gotta say, Harry definitely wins the prize for the biggest gut." 

They all turned to look at me, sprawled out on the bed with my massive, bloated belly on full display. The contrast between their smaller, slightly rounded stomachs and my own overstuffed gut was almost comical. I looked like I’d swallowed a whole watermelon, while they’d only nibbled on a few snacks.

Jim grinned and gave his own belly another pat. “How are you even still conscious after all that? You’ve gotta be on the verge of passing out, mate.”

I could only groan in response, too full and too tired to form a coherent reply. My belly felt like it was about to burst, every breath a reminder of how far I’d pushed myself today. But despite the discomfort, there was a strange sense of camaraderie in the room, a bond forged through our shared gluttony.

The guys continued to joke and laugh, comparing their own bellies and teasing me about mine, but I barely heard them. All I could focus on was the heavy, aching fullness that filled every inch of my midsection. I rubbed my hand over the curve of my stomach, trying to soothe the tightness, but it was no use. I was beyond stuffed, my gut stretched to its absolute limit.

Even so, as I lay there, I couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. I had no idea how I’d let myself get talked into eating so much, but in some weird way, it had been worth it. The guys were having the time of their lives, and despite my current state, I couldn’t deny that a part of me was enjoying it too.

To be continued . . . .

For more of my stories click here

[factual-fantasy]

27 asks! Thank you!! :}} 🔮

Oooo very cool! I hope you have fun with it!! :DDD And as for how I make a story it kind'a depends-

For Grimace, Sylvester and the rest of the gang.. well that was just my Violet team. I gave them personalities that I thought would suit them and just.. went from there I guess? <:D

For Conkeldurr, Zuora, Emboar and the 4 piglets.. well, it started with just thinking about Conkeldurr and how much I like that Pokémon. I pictured him as a Gentle giant and imagined how fun it would be to draw him with some other tiny Pokémon that he adopted. I went through the Unovan pokédex and picked a Zuora because she was small and fluffy <XD

After making a post about them I wanted to give Conkeldurr a friend. Well I like the Emboar line so hey why not do that? She can be a mama Emboar to switch it up and she can have 4 kids. Why not? Since I didn't draw her in that first post, I made the story they they went their separate ways for a time but now they're back together.

I honestly don't have solid concrete advice I can offer- I just think "hey this would be neat" and slap it on there. Or I think "hey this scenario would be fun to draw" and so I structure the events and story to make the characters run into this scenario in a reasonable way. That's really all I do.. <:D

@beryl-shade

I've seen Markiplier play it :0 Its.. well its something! <:D

(Referencing this post)

<XD I never understood why they made him Spanish, the sudden guitar noise is always a jumps care XDDD

@shiny-is-miney

Humans do not exist in any of my Octonauts AUs, nor have they ever <:/

@catain-skyler1987

I do not <:/ sorry!

@nwo-metalscottic

Daww,, thank you 🥹🥹🥹its been rough these past.. how ever many months- my health is still poor and I still am glued to my bed/the couch 24/7.. but I'm hoping to finally see some improvement soon.. and I hope you feel better too! <:))

Any who, I'm glad to hear your views on Conkeldurr! :D Some people can be kind'a harsh :x As for the Tepigs, I can see them sticking around even after evolving into Pignites. They love their mama and would have no desire to leave her.. 🥺

As for what threatens them.. when they were apart, I kind'a image any meat eating Pokémon that thinks they could take them in a fight would be a threat. Or perhaps territorial Pokémon or protective parents that would see a big Pokémon coming near and just attack on instinct.

Now that the two of them are together, they have a lot less trouble with random Pokémon. They're a much bigger challenge to take on as a team. Plus I can see Zuora walking with them disguised as a second Emboar or Conkeldurr. Creating a group that looks like three macho parents that will fiercely protect their piglets.

As for the Minecraft movie, here's the thing about the Piglins. In the actual game they turn into Zombie Piglins the moment they leave the Nether. Why are they still normal Piglins despite running through a village??

And a Netflix show... uhg.. I'm just not interested. I feel like Minecraft looses all its charm when you convert it into a show or movie. And especially if you mess up Steve as badly as they did. Jack Black.. that's the worst casting I can think of.🤦

This is so cool! It feels like it could be canon to the Pokémon universe! :DD

Also thank you so much!! :)))

I have! :0 I watched 8-bitryan play some of it! :) ALSO THANK YOU!! :DDD

@cicutagreninja

WOW!! :00 THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD I plan to return to it someday!! :)))

@astaherussy (Referencing this post)

I think I put that on almost out of habit <XD when I picture old abandoned houses I imagine notes stuck to the door warning of debts and bills that need to be paid lest the owners get evicted. So I drew that because it felt fitting!

..Only just now did I realize that the old owners were supposed to be a mystery.. if there was any at all. So having that note on the door doesn't really make sense.. 😅

ALSO WAAHG THANK YOU!! :DDD

I've seen the FNAF movie and I've seen multiple Youtubers play all the FNAF games. Though I haven't played through any of them myself. :00

As for what I thought of them.. I have a place in my heart for all the games. From the lore jumbling ruin DLC, to the classic first game, I'm a total sucker and I love them all.💞💞

The movie wasn't as bad as I feared it would be. I adored the inclusion of MatPat and the intended inclusion of Markiplier. There were some aspects I didn't like and a lot of missed opportunities in my opinion. And of course the lore is all outa whack..

None the less, I think the movie is charming. And my love for FNAF has only strengthened upon the movies release :))

@i-only-created-this-to-read

Since Metagross isn't in Black/White (Its in Black/White 2) I wont be looking into that species for a bit.. and I wont be looking at Mega evolutions-

As for a Quantum slime equivalent, I have no intentions to make equivalents for all the slimes- I didn't add trubbish to be an equivalent to pinks. I just noted that Trubbish are a common slime that can eat anything, just like pinks are :0

The slimes and foods I add will be their own thing. Not intending to replicate or replace any of the canon slimes or fruits/veggies/meats from slime rancher. If that makes sense-

@petrichormeraki

I don't really have any proper name ideas for them 😅 I've just been calling them the shiny one, the normal one, the runt and the big one. XDD

Also thank you!! :DDD

Oooo that's really interesting actually! :000 That would have been a much more tame version of my Zuoras story <XDDD

@pigeonsplural

SLAKJDJ THANK YOUUU!! :)))0

*plotting noises......

(Referencing this post)

This ask will be very relevant soon.. 😈 Also thank you! :)))

@roughsketch2010

WAHGG THANK YIU SOMUCH!! :DDD

@kermit-ydafrog

Daww 🥹 Thank you! MY question is why are you so kind?? :DDD

I've heard of it and seen a lot of fanart, but i never got into it myself😅

Thank you for remembering my boundaries and respecting them! <:) And yeah that paints a pretty vivid picture in my head XDDD

@holly-opal

He would have been a better voice for Bowser then Jack Black in my opinion..

@fandomcenteral

WAAHHG THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD And its still a surprise to me that I'm considered a celebrity :00 I hope people aren't intimidated to send me asks because of that.. <:D

@muncho1234 (eye post in question)

Peso, Dashi, Tunip and Ranger Marsh have no eye bags because they have decent sleeping schedules and diets. :0 The rest of the characters either have poor sleeping schedules, deal with a lot of stress, or are very hard workers and burn up all their energy throughout the day.. :(

Oh boy 💀

@minnesotamedic186 (Eye studies post) (Kwazii and Calico Jack hug post) (Ranger Marsh jump scare post)

WAAHGG THANK YOU!!! :DD I ALWATS LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE NOTICE THE DETAILS I PUT IN!! :))))

@caronaro-flipaclip

<XD While I agree with this, I cant help but get red in the face when people like/reblog my old artwork.😅😅 And there's nothing wrong with that! It just shows how far I've come! :)