#But what I want to see at the end should already in your dream

[cherubunie]

dirty thoughts ~ park jongseong x reader

ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 성훈 ] ☆ you and jay have an.. odd relationship. you haven't known him long as he was paired with you in a group project for a class. he acts as if he hates you one day, but then it feels like he's you're his best friend the next. you've been having... weird... dreams about him. they started off tame, but as time went on; they began to get more and more heated... so when you wake up in the middle of the night to a figure looming over the foot of your bed, you only assumed it to be Jay. so its not fear you feel when he tells you to run.

word count ; 8.7k

incubus! dom! jay x sub! reader. reader has the worst dirty thoughts about jay its funny. chasing / hunter + prey dynamic , masochism , monster(ish) fucking , cnc , size kink , orgasm denial , dacryphilia , bulge kink , breeding , man handling , dacryphilia , fingering , stalking , corruption , reader is a bit of an oc for the plot line , sorry ! very poorly proof read so dismiss any mistakes pls !

"that's odd, I've never seen him before" you lean close to one of your friends who you sit next by, looking at the unfamiliar black-haired man that sits in the back of the classroom, his eyes locked onto his computer screen. your friend turns her head, following your line of eyesight to look at the mystery man.

"Park Jongseong I believe is what his name is" she says, briefly pausing. she squints her eyes in order to get a good look at the man before continuing

"He's really fucking attractive though, y/n. you should go over there, I mean you were partnered with him, right?" she asks, making you nod your head as an answer. Almost as if he felt your stare, his eyes look up from the computer screen in- making direct eye contact with you. his face is completely expressionless, a chill running up your spine at his stare.

You turn back around in your seat, exhaling a deep breath you didn't know you were holding before groaning.

"I guess so. I'll see you after class, yeah?' she mumbles a quick 'sure' before diverting her attention back onto her laptop.

you gather your things into your bag before standing up and heading over to the man, sucking in a deep breath before sitting down in the chair next to him. you're too afraid to say anything, his dark aura making your vocal chords feel as if they were tangled.

as you sit down, your eyes drift off to the side of his face. his jawline is perfectly chiseled and sharp, his lips full and he has his ears pierced. you mentally take note of the attractive man that sits next to you, your thoughts drifting out of your head- but are quickly snapped out of your trance as he shifts his eyes to look at you.

a gasp spills from your lips at the intense eye contact, quickly looking away from him in embarrassment.

"you are?" he asks, his tone of voice sharp and to the point - low-key scaring you.

"y/n, y/n l/n... and you?' you return the question, immediately mentally face palming as you already know who he is.

"Park Jongseong, but you can call me Jay." his voice direct and solid, no undertones of amusement that you can detect. you shift uncomfortably in your seat, grabbing out your computer before putting it on the table in front of you and creating a google slide for the project the two of you will be spending the next couple months working on.

The two of you work in silence- you being too nervous to say anything and him not wanting to speak. it was honestly frustrating, but you could care less.

class is about to end, and you still haven't said a word to each other in the agazoning hour and a half. Jay begins packing up, making you frantically pull out your phone and open up the call app in order to create a new contact. you turn to jay with a deep breath before asking your question.

"uhm, I was wondering if I could get your number? you know, since we're gonna be working together" he stares at you as if you spoke a different language, making you uncomfortable beyond belief.

"no thanks, im good." is all he says before turning around and walking out of the classroom, leaving you completely dumbfounded and a little upset.

after a moment of standing there in disbelief at his rudeness, you huff and roll your eyes- exiting the classroom angry before heading home.

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"he was so rude, I don't know why I didn't even do anything" you huff into the phone speaker, finishing up your skin care routine before putting vaseline on your lips.

"don't even worry about him, maybe he's a tough cookie to crack" you sigh, silently agreeing with your best friend. you stand up from your vanity, checking yourself out slightly as you turn around and look at your ass, your pajama shorts complimenting your figure and your tight night-shirt holding up your breasts perfectly.

"whatever, I don't care anyways. if he doesn't want to exchange numbers and at least attempt to work together in order to get a good grade, I wont object, I'll just do my half and hope he does his" you collapse onto your bed dramatically, looking up at your ceiling which glows a dim yellow thanks to your fairy lights glimmering around your room.

you flip over on your stomach, getting out your MacBook and opening instagram.

"do you think he has any social media?' you ask her, mischief laced in your voice.

"you better not." she warns, but you do it anyways.

"p-a-r-k , j-o-n-g-s-e-o-n-g.." you emphasize each letter as you type on the keyboard. the line goes quiet as you search for your project partner, but to your dismay, you find nothing.

"ugh, who on earth doesn't at least have an instagram in this day and age" you complain, making your friend giggle on the other line.

"maybe he blocked you" you instantly sit up, glaring into the empty room at who knows what.

"that's not funny." a loud laugh rings in your ear, making you groan.

"stop laughing at my misery you whore" but she doesn't, making you hang up on her. you yawn and plug your phone into the charger before turning out the lights and crawling under the covers.

the only thought in your mind as you drift off to sleep being your mysterious study partner

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you walk into class, your mind racing a million miles a minute as you look around for your seat partner, not quite seeing him until the small crowd of people disperses away from your desk, catching sight of him immediately.

his black hair is more kept today and his outfit seems a little brighter- as does his face. as soon as you walk into the room his head tilts up, his eyes meeting yours.

your heart feels as if it stops for a split second as you abruptly come to a stop.

god he's so fucking attractive

you shake your head slightly before pushing yourself into the room , your guard up and ready as you sit down next to him. you pull your stuff out of your book bag and turn to face the front of the room as he speaks.

"hi, um, sorry about last class, I wasn't feeling very good so I was kind of a dick.." his voice trails off as a shy smile spreads on his lips, his body turning in his chair to face you. your face heats up as you reciprocate his smile.

"its alright, we all have bad days" your smile doesn't falter, and neither does his. you take not of his well kept, thick eyebrows and the shape of his nose, his appearance is absolutely breathtaking and it makes you feel all sorts of things.

"so, about the project.. I was wondering if-" the two of you begin speaking about the project, picking out a topic and a format was easier than you thought.

the two of you begin chatting about other things, and you learned a few facts about your used-to-be-mysterious seat partner; how he enjoys playing the guitar in his free time, how he was born in Seattle and is a huge fan of the mariner baseball team, just a bunch of facts he shared about himself in order to bring the two of you closer together.

you also shared some interesting things about yourself; how you have two baby kitties at home , you're an art major who loves to sit and read or watch kdramas in your cozy room while drinking iced tea, or doing your makeup.

things jay already knew about you, but enjoyed listening to you ramble about them anyways.

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"he wasn't actually an asshole, he was just having a bad day is all" you explain to your friend, freshly showered and painting your toenails in your robe while sitting on your bed. your phone is on speaker sitting next to you as Sixteen Candles plays on your laptop in the background.

"that's good at least, you know... y/n you haven't really been so interested in a guy before.. let alone talked about one to me" your friend speaks honestly, making you halt your focus on your pinky toenail.

"what? ive only spoken to him twice, what makes you think I have an interest in him?" you question, going back to painting your nails a pastel pink. there's shuffling in the background before she speaks again

"I mean you've never really paid this much attention to a guy ever, you've encountered plenty of assholes guys before, but you've never spoken to me about any of them with me the way you do with jay" she says, making you poke your tongue out of the side of your mouth in frustration.

"I mean, he was actually kind of nice today, we even got to know each other a little bit. he even asked me for my phone number" you smile at the memory of him asking for your phone number.

you forgot to get his, so the communication relies on him.

"well just be careful, you never know mens' intentions these days" she warns, and you take note. you finish painting your toenails, waving your hand in order to get them to dry faster.

"yeah I will" you speak semi-honestly. for some reason, jay doesn't feel like any of the men you've encountered before; he feels warm and safe to be around even though you haven't known him for very long.

suddenly, a harsh knock can be heard coming from the front door downstairs, startling you from your quick daydream. you begin to slide off your bed with a groan, quickly exiting your room and heading downstairs.

"hey, I got to go, I'll see you later, yeah?" you say into the phone, she says a quick 'alright' before the two of you hang up.

your feet feel cold on the hardwood floor, making a shiver run up your spine with each step you take towards the front door. you look out of the peephole, only to be met with nothing on the outside.

just as you turn your back, another harsh knock echoes off the walls of the apartment, only this time its louder. your breathing turns heavy as you hesitate, turning around and unlocking and swinging the door open.

a gust of cold wind grazes your cheek and into the house, making your hair blow in the wind just slightly. you see nobody around, and a weird feeling begins to pool in your stomach.

you slam the door closed and lock both locks on it, making sure its secure before heading back over to your bed to bury yourself under the covers.

that night, you decide to leave your laptop and fairy lights on.

but when you wake up, they're both turned off.

Jay's figure looms over yours as you sleep soundly in your bed. the shadow of his silhouette cascades onto your sleeping figure thanks to the dim moonlight shining in through your window.

your skin looks soft, almost as if it was glimmering in the lighting. all he wants to do is reach out and touch your cheek- but he holds himself.

instead, he manipulates his way into your mind- but not quite altering it... yet.

he has to be patient.

he has to wait for you to bare yourself completely to him in order to have your full word.

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"oh my god" you jump up out of bed in excitement. running over to your vanity in order to grab your head band before making your way into the bathroom. jay texted you around an hour ago, asking if you wanted to meet up at his apartment in order to study. you quickly texted back a "sure" before washing your face and doing your makeup.

on the way to jay's place, you picked up an iced coffee for him , and an iced tea for you before making your way to his apartment.

"hi y/n, come on in" he greets you with a smile. he leads you into his room and its unsurprisingly clean- his bed is made neatly and his closet is organized along with his cologne collection that adorns the side of his desk. you look around the room, taking in how it smells exactly like him.

you accept his request to sit down on the bed, taking out your laptop and opening the slides of your project.

the two of you discuss further plans for the assignment for a couple hours, coming up with strategic ways to get your point across to the professor in a professional manner all while following along with the criteria of the project.

after a while of brain-sucking studying, you lean back onto the bed and stretch- your joints popping as you do so.

jay leans back on his palms and observes you, noting how tired you already are just from a couple measly hours of studying. you yawn slightly, closing your eyes as you begin to feel exhaustion wash over you.

after a few moments, you open your eyes, making direct eye contact with his and just as you do so, it feels as if the wind was knocked out of you.

jay's eyes are dark and his hair is disheveled. you gulp down saliva, not daring to move as he observes your face. your lips are parted and your fingers fidget with the rings you wear.

you feel heat begin to pool in your lower abdomen, your eyes beginning to cloud over.

oh the way he's looking at you is beginning to drive you insane, your mind racing a million miles a minute - he finds it so fucking adorable - the way you are already falling into the palm of his hand , playing right into his devious tricks.

he can basically smell the pathetic arousal pooling in your panties , and you're too innocent and confused to even know its even happening.

"jay.." his name rolls off his tongue and it takes everything inside of him to stop himself from taking you this very second - but he keeps reminding himself to be patient.

patience.

that's all he needs for his plan to fall into place.

"do you wanna go get ramen ?" his words snap you out of your haze, the whiplash hitting you like a brick from his earlier stare. you sit up on your forearms, trying to get your head to stop spinning around.

you look at him as he stands up, grabbing a coat and tossing it over to you.

"why do I need this?" you question as he puts on a coat of his own. he turns around and looks at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

"its cold out, and you didn't wear a jacket. come on , we'll go get ramen and then I'll take you home, yeah?" without questioning him, you stand up and put the jacket on before walking out the door and heading towards his car.

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desperate whimpers and whines bounce off the walls of your studio. your limbs beginning to entangle in the sheets of your bed as you attempt to relieve the tingling sensation that spreads throughout your body through your aching pussy.

your eyes are closed - a deep sleep looming over you as you dream of jays body on top of yours. his hands are soft and gentle as they caress that sweetest spot inside your cunt, the moans in your dream come out of your throat in the real world.

a thin layer of sweat coats your forehead, and your hair begins to tangle as you gently thrash around on top of your mattress in a desperate attempt to find any sort of friction.

jay finds himself standing above your bed once more, witnessing just how much he has altered your pathetic little mind in such a short amount of time, a small smirk graced on his lips.

he watches how your hips rock into nothing, the smell of your arousal circulating all around him- feeding him. his eyes glow in the dark as they look directly into your soul that will once become his.

he reaches his hand out, using the back of his fingers to brush a stray hair out of your face. he coo's at the way your face contorts into one of pleasure and pain- confusion and unsatisfactory.

"you poor thing.. soon baby, I promise." he whispers, the adorable sounds you make influence a deep sense of dread to fill his mind- he wants to take you for himself, now.

right fucking now.

but you're not finished yet, oh no.

the gears in your mind haven't been shifted to fit into his just yet.

jay kisses the top of your forehead, easing the throbbing of your clit slightly- giving you some sort of relaxation in the midst of driving you absolutely insane.

he can see inside your mind- he can see all the nasty- dirty things he does to you in the dream. how be bends you in half in order to fuck you just right- how he pulls your hair so your back can fold into a painful arch- and especially how he splits you in half with his huge cock in any position you can think of, your juices squirting over fucking everything in sight.

his eyes grow a darker shade of black, and his horns double in size as does his tail and wings, and he can feel himself gain at least a foot taller.

god how perfectly you feed right into his power- giving him everything he wished for so, so easily

your eyes open, your mind coming out of the heated dream you found yourself having. sweat covers your body and your clit still throbs at the thought of him. you lay back down, your head hitting the cushioning of the pillow as you attempt to calm your heavy breathing.

the dream felt so vivid.. and real. the way jay's cold hands caressed your soft skin, his fingers curling up inside your core. heat spreads through you in ripples just at the thought.

you felt so unbelievably guilty and somewhat disgusting as your hands slip past the waistband of your panties, your fingers finding your pulsating clit.

you rub gentle circles on your mound of muscle, wetness spreading through your folds with ease. you close your eyes and bite your lip in order to hush your moans that fill the room.

your fingers split you open, fucking your tight cunt the way you wished jay would- and how he was previously doing in the dream you so rudely awaked from.

"j-jay please" you whimper,

and little to your knowledge- he heard the way you pathetically moaned his name- he was perched on the railing of your house balcony, his huge wings drooping to the sides of his figure as his golden eyes bore into your figure as you fucked your wet pussy just to the thought of him.

the way you moaned his name made goosebumps arise on his skin, his most favorite melody you could ever create in this life time. his most favorite song he's ever heard and his restraint is wearing thin as you continue to use your pathetic little fingers to get yourself off.

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"you look tired, y/n are you alright" jay voices his concern as you enter the class. its been two months since the two of you began hanging out, so his concern wasn't out of the ordinary anymore.

jay and you have spent a lot of time together, studying and hanging out in general. you got to know him better- understand him. he was honestly so sweet and collected, his nurturing personality making you fall head over heels for him in so many ways.

especially now, when he notices the prominent eyeballs that soil the skin under your eyes- which are red and watery. your hair is a mess and you feel as if you could slump over and fall asleep any second now.

you approach the desk, setting your stuff down before laying your head down on the cool wood.

"I'll be fine, I haven't been sleeping well recently" you reply honestly, making him pinch his eyebrows at you in worry. he hesitates before putting a comforting hand on your back, rubbing up and down to soothe your mind.

heat instantly spreads through your body like wildfire.

"how about we ditch this class and go back to mine and watch a movie, we could stop and get snacks on the way" he leans down to whisper in your ear. your head turns to the side with a sly smirk gracing your lips.

"jay, wait up" you giggle as he runs towards the entrance of the corner store. he doesn't listen though, running into the store to grab whatever snacks he could find.

you run in after him, grabbing a dr. pepper and a bag of chips before looking around the building in an attempt to find the man. you spot him in the candy aisle, picking up your favorite candy bar before turning around to face you. you notice the piece of food in his hand, your mouth watering instantly.

"is that... those are my favorite" of course he already knew that, but plays dumb anyways.

"you want one" he smiles at you, grabbing another off the shelf and handing it to you.

just as the two of you go up to pay, jay whips out his card and hands it to the cashier before you had the chance to.

"you really didn't have to pay for my stuff" you say, a pout on your face as you speak. he wants to kiss that pout right off your lips- but stops himself.

he grabs the grocery bag and leans down into your ear

"shut up, let me take care of you" he runs out of the building and towards his car, leaving you whiplashed and confused. you push through the exit and head towards his car, falling into the passenger seat as you connect to the aux.

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the two of you decide to watch the original scream movie, your shared snacks sitting inbetween the two of you who sit down on the couch, undivided attention on the tv.

the sex scene comes on, and you know that even though they don't show them having sex, your cheeks heat up red anyways, looking away from the tv and focusing on grabbing the chips- but when you go and look for them, jay has them on the other side of his body, away from you.

you huff slightly to get his attention, his eyes finding yours. he follows your field of vision, an idea popping into his head.

"you can have them, but you have to take them from me" you groan dramatically, giving him an 'are you serious' look. jays expression is playful, giving you your answer.

you go to reach for them, leaning over his lap as you do so. Jay gets a good smell of your perfume, inhaling your scent deeply. he moves the chips out of your reach and above his head. you instinctively reach for them again, a giggle followed by a whine can be heard from you as you shift your body to sit on his lap.

jay freezes instantly, letting you grab the snack out of his hands before realizing what you just did.

your body freezes, and jay's hands find their way to your waist, holding you in place.

"j-jay..?' you look up at him, your face coated in a deep blush as he stares at you- his eyes turning dark... way too dark for comfort- but you don't care.

"y/n.." your ears perk up at the sound of him calling your name, like a little puppy.

"have you ever had sex?" the question throws you completely off guard, making you shift in his lap uncomfortably. he then realizes the position the two of you are in and how you squirm around in his hold.. he could overpower you oh so easily, it makes his cock begin to harden. Jay has a mental war with himself before he grips your waist and pulls you to sit right next to him instead. you avert your eyes away from the man- deciding to look at the tv instead, trying to gather your thoughts.

your reaction is enough of an answer, wetness pooling in your panties- you feel his eyes burning into your body. as you focus your eyes onto the tv, and your face heats up even more at the scene where Stu chases Sidney through the house in the ghost face mask. you know this is supposed to be a horror movie, but something about the idea of being chased makes you feel so much hotter than you already are.

you swallow hard, deciding to look back at jay in order to distract yourself, answering his question.

"u-uhm, no ? I mean guess not.." god you're so fucking cute. so perfect and innocent, the newfound information making jays head feel light as he stares at you, completely forgetting about the movie.

he can tell just by how red your face is that you are enjoying this part of the movie. almost as if hes reading your thoughts.

you enjoy being chased, the thrill and adrenaline caused by the question of 'what if I get caught' fuels your growing arousal, the two of you looking at each other deeply. for a second, you think hes about to lean in to kiss you, but just before he does..

he focuses his attention back onto the movie, leaving you to widen your eyes and question what the hell just happened within the last five minutes.

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the next couple of weeks felt long and agonizing, your feelings for jay only growing stronger by the second.

countless nights you spent awake, or forced awake due to the dirty dreams you've been having about the familiar black haired male. everything about him kept dragging you in more and more, it was almost impossible to stay away from him for more than a few hours.

the dreams became more vivid- jays face gaining more and more detail with every dream you have.

its driving you insane. everything about him is. the way his touch would linger on your skin, the way his eyes would darken every time he looked at you, the way he was beginning to be protective over you- everything he does make you feel like bursting at the seams.

especially with the last dream you had. it felt like it kept going on and on for hours at a time.

his hips snapping against yours in a beautiful rhythm, how his cock split you in half, how his hands would ease you to orgasm over and over again repeatedly.

it felt wrong how many nights you'd masturbaited to the thought of his touch, the sound of his voice whenever he would send you an audio message or leave a voicemail.

oh fuck was he driving you crazy and you have no idea why. it was honestly making you feel sick with how badly you've begun to ache for him, any part of him.

so here you were now... one week without a word from jay, and it was honestly one of the worst weeks you've had in years.

he missed the group presentation- leaving you to do it all alone. the feeling of patheticness radiates through your body as you walk to campus, sending jay yet another text about how worried you were about him.

he missed your happy reaction to getting an A on the project... but having nobody to celebrate with.

Jay left without a trace, and without a warning , leaving you with nothing but his hoodie. you've even gone to his apartment in hopes of running into him, but came up empty-handed.

a couple weeks ago, the two of you were almost never seen without the other, if one was somewhere- the other had to be somewhere close by. Jay treated you so gently- like you were the most precious thing on this earth before he disappeared.

"y/n, he's fine I promise" your best friend tries to ease your mind as she lays on your bed, looking through your magazines while music plays in the background.

you've been going on a tangent about how jay hasnt even texted you in the last week, let alone make his existence known to you at all. it was weird and out of the ordinary for him to just, stop existing.

you look at yourself in the mirror, not really recognizing the person on the other side of the mirror. eyebags are heavily tainting your skin, and you've lost weight due to the fact that you never sleep.

although jay was gone, the dreams remained.

you sigh into your palms, raking your fingers through your freshly-washed hair and then down your face in frustration.

"you're right, maybe something came up and his phone broke, im sure I'll hear from him soon" you attempt to reassure yourself, standing up from your vanity after finishing your skincare.

you turn to face your best friend as she stands up, grabbing her bag.

"I need to go, its hella late and I have class in the morning" you nod your head, seeing her out of the house before collapsing into bed, sipping your phone out of your pocket and checking yours and jays text chain.

still nothing

you sigh, turning on your side as your head begins to hurt once more, a familiar feeling you've grown accustomed to.

your eyes feel like burning as a single tear makes its way down your cheek.

you're so fucking worried about him.

you would give just about anything to see him again, the feeling of unknowing agony coursing through your veins as you type out another message, sending it without hesitation.

please answer me

I love you

it seems fast- but it really wasn't. especially with how close the two of you have grown in these passed few months, it was going to come sooner or later- you just wish it was under different circumstances.

your head hits the pillow after you turn out your lights, drifting off into a deep sleep.

feel your core tingle, feeling as if it was on fire.

your eyes open, the first thing in sight was jay's eyes bearing into you- but hes different. everything about him is different as his fingers reach inside your core- threatening to split you down the middle in the most prettiest way.

his eyes are golden, shining in the light. his face is sharp, curled horns complimenting the top of his head that you've never seen before. a huge pair of wings drape down on either side of his body, a pointed tail flicking up and over his head inbetween his wings.

you gasp- not only at his new appearance- but the odd pleasure that takes over your entire being as jay toys with you ever so slightly, an overwhelming feeling of dread, anxiety, and oh so much pleasure to where it feels like its going to explode out of your fingertips.

jay leans down, beginning to hover over your much smaller frame. his name rolls off your tongue, and for some reason- you feel tears roll down your cheek while your hands reach up to wrap around his back- pulling him in closer to your body as he fucks his fingers inside you.

your body is hot- your hips bucking up into nothing but air as you whine incoherent sentences.

he stands at the foot of your bed- witnessing you fall apart under his gaze. the strong scent of your hormones and arousal filter through his nose- claiming his senses.

his name rolling off your tongue makes his eyes shift even darker than they are currently, your sleepy body beginning to shift awake just before your orgasm washes over you.

your body forces itself to sit up, heavy breathing filling the room of your studio. confusion washes over your face as you look up at the man before you, pain radiating out of your heart so severe, it almost physically pains you.

"j-jay..?"

"hello, beautiful." your breath shudders as you exhale, taking in his appearance; he looks the exact same way he did in your dream... he's freakishly tall with curled horns, huge wings, a tale and deep golden eyes that make you shrink ever so slightly.

warm tears run down your cheeks, a number of emotions cloud your brain so badly that it affects the way you think- unable to form any useful thoughts.

"jay please" you have no idea what you're begging for, but do so anyways. he lifts his eyebrows, a pout on his lips as he tilts his head to the side.

"what do you want, my love?" its abundantly obvious how needy you have become... but jay's going through the exact same thing, but he's better at concealing it. more tears spill from your red eyes, and they feel like acid on your face.

"you.. please, I need you please" you crawl across the bed towards his huge frame, his chest broad and open due to the fact that he's only wearing a pair of what appears to be tan shorts. you stop just in front of him, his body leaning down to capture your face in his hand.

his breath fans your face, observing you up close.

you should be scared- you should be telling him to run away- but the fluttering of your pussy prevents you from doing so, your abdomen tight and cramping with need.

your eyebrows pinch together, your skin glowing in the moonlight that shines down through your curtains that dance in the wind thanks to your open balcony door.

he chuckles at the look on your face, letting you go and standing back up. his body straightens as he looks down at your trembling body.

"run" before a thought can form, your feet are already moving before you know it. your hand tightens on the railing as you sprint downstairs in the dark.

you turn a sharp corner and head straight for the kitchen, but your short freedom is cut to an abrupt halt as you see jay standing on the other side of the kitchen, his arms folded across his chest.

your breathing is heavy, your body spinning around on your heel while you break into another sprint; this time heading down a hallway and towards the front door.

his laugh is surrounding you, almost taunting your pathetic attempts of escape.

you fling the front door open, but scream when you see his tall figure standing on the other side just before you slam it just as quickly as it was opened. your body rushes into the living room which is completely coated in darkness that its borderline impossible to make out any sort of figure.

you run into a wall, and that's when you see the golden eyes- standing a mere couple feet away from you.

"got you" his voice carries through the room, making a shiver run down your spine. within a blink of an eye, his body is right in front of yours- hovering over you. your eyes bore into his lower chest.

a whine leaves your throat as his fingers ghost across your thigh, trailing up your arm and towards your face as he cups your cheek, tilting your head up in order to look at him.

sweat drips off your hairline, your body trembling in his hold.

you're so conflicted as his thumb traces gentle circles on your skin. your nose begins to sting, as do your eyes.

the smallest of tears trail down your cheek, hitting jays thumb as he caresses you. his body contact feels like fire, the burning pit in your stomach only grows and you swear your underwear is completely soiled at this point.

more hushed whines string out of your parted, chapped lips.

he would have taken you in an instant, never giving you the chance to run away. but ever since he saw you all those months ago, he knew you weren't just some ordinary human.

you were a human that was worth all the pain that this world has pushed onto him, and then some.

he loves you.

he looks at you as if you hold the entire world in his hands, and it calms you for just a second

"jay.."

but no matter how badly he wants to be with you; it simply can't happen.

"what do you want, sweetheart?" he asks, watching your face contort into one of painful pleasure. your eyes are teary and half-lidded as they stare into his.

"you... please... need you and only you jay please" you beg, making a smile arise on his face.

fuck he's insane.

"give yourself to me baby, let me take you for myself precious" you frantically nod your head, his body beginning to press into yours- resulting in your back hitting the cool wall behind you.

"are you really willing to give up everything you are? your god wont ever be able to save you my love, no amount of wishing, praying, reading, or manifesting will ever be in your favor, you will forever me mine until death do you part.. and even past then." he questions, watching your every move as his free hand comes to the slope of your waist, holding you in place as his knee begins to push your legs apart, your clothed heat pressing up against his thigh.

"please.. yes take me, take me please I dont- I dont want anything else" the second the words leave your mouth, he kisses your forehead, a ripple of gold spreading from his lips onto your skin and down your face; making this moment official. his hands lift you into the air. your legs wrap around his torso, your hands flying towards the back of his head in order to tug on his black locks.

his lips finds yours in an instant, his long tongue intruding passed your lips in order to explore your mouth. he pushes you into the wall once more, making you hiss at the sharp cold of the sheet rock.

everything around you feels like its burning, especially his skin on yours. your hips grind into his body, your wetness being felt on his skin instantly.

he detaches his lips from yours with a wet pop, moving his head down to the crook of your neck in order to suck deep, purple marks into your perfect skin. your hands tug his hair roughly, the heat of his lips making it impossible to focus. you squirm in his hold, pressing your body impossibly closer to his.

Jay groans at the feeling of you tugging his hair and begins to move, walking up the stairs and towards your room. He gently puts you down onto the bed, beginning to crawl over your shaking figure.

you lay down, your back flush against the comfortable sheets as he hovers over you. your hands instantly move to wrap around his neck, bringing him down so his lips meet with yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

you feel his hands wander to the base of your shirt, and in one swift motion; he rips the flimsy piece of fabric while a gasp exits your mouth. Jay tosses it across the room to be forgotten, his focus primarily on you and you alone.

his knee makes its way to your clothed heat, pressing up against your pussy in order to give you the slightest bit of friction you so desperately wished to possess. you moan into his mouth, to which he happily swallows into the depths of his being.

you grind down onto his thigh, a sigh of relief can be heard from you as his hands move down to your hips, guiding you down onto him.

he feels his cock harden, straining against his shorts painfully. you feel him grow against you, your eyes opening slowly as you lean back to look at him- the real him.

"Jay..." he licks his bottom lip, his eyes glowing brighter with every passing second.

"please" you say, almost as if you're in agony. he shakes his head with a smirk on his face, dipping down to the junction between your neck and shoulder, licking a stripe up your skin towards your ear before his teeth sink into you.

a scream erupts from your throat, pushing your hips downwards harshly, releasing the pent up frustration through the tugging on his hair.

Jay sits up, admiring the beautiful little thing squirming underneath him. your hips pathetically rock into his leg, a wet patch forming on his shorts.

He hisses at the sight, instantly halting your hips as a whine of protests sounds out of you. With impatience, jay rips your flimsy lace panties and tosses them onto the ground. you suck in a deep breath at his actions just before he leans down to capture his mouth on yours once more.

after a few moments, he detaches from you, trailing his kisses towards your neck and down your sternum. Jay then takes one of your already-perky nipples into his mouth, mounding the other in his huge hands. the ring that he wears pinches you with cold, making you shiver.

he tongues your nipple, sucking and biting on your nub as you buck your hips into nothing, searching for him without meaning to. he chuckles at your actions, moving his face to the other nipple.

you squeal as he takes your nipple inbetween his teeth and bites down harshly, looking at you through his eyebrows before detaching. your breathing increases after, his wet kisses trailing down your stomach and abdomen, leaving scorching fire in its wake.

the pressure in your abdomen grows as he stops his lips right above your pussy, blowing cold air onto your clit.

"fuck baby.. you're dripping all over the bed sweetheart.." he taunts you, your face heating up in embarrassment. the way your cunt squeezes around nothing drives him up the wall, and all he wants to do is fuck you raw right then and there.

instead, his mouth latches onto your clit- licking, sucking and biting on your bundle of nerves instantly. your back arches off the bed and you thrust your fingers into the sheets, keeping yourself grounded as he begins to eat you out.

his long tongue fucks itself into your throbbing hole, your legs beginning to shake just from the pure euphoric feeling of this demons mouth.

"j-jay oh my g-od pl-please" you hiccup, your eyes slowly close as you're left seeing stars. the way your pussy clenches down onto his tongue makes him question how on earth are you going to be able to take his cock... because its bigger than the average human... much bigger.

he's worried he would quite literally split you in half.

but you're such a good girl, so he know's you'll be able to take it.

your legs move on their own, helping your hips grind into his face in search of your orgasm. Jay alternates from splitting you open with his tongue, to licking and sucking on your puffy clit.

he laps at you like a dog in heat; as if his life depends on it.

he's set on completely and utterly consuming your entire being, making you one with him.

you feel a knot begin to form, jumbled and beyond tangled as his tongue works its magic on your virgin clit, and you feel that knot start to unravel; quickly.

Jay moves his hand to your pussy, pushing one of his long, thick fingers into your pussy, resulting in a choked moan to sound from just above him. you squeeze around his digit that's curling and twisting up inside you in order to graze that candy-sweet spot deep inside your walls.

"c-cum please.. wan' cum jay please" his eyes never look away from you, witnessing all the pretty faces you make as you create a mess all over his face, your juices dripping down his chin to stain the bedding below.

"let go baby, make a mess all over me sweet girl" and so you do, your back arching as your legs move in an attempt to squeeze around his head, his tongue not letting up the quick pace he has set whilst eating you out.

your taste is heavenly as you cream all over his face, pulling his fingers out of you to wrap his arms around your legs in order to pull your pussy impossible closer to him. your juices stain his entire face as you orgasm, your stomach feels tight and your walls flutter around nothing in particular apart from the air.

you come down from your high just as jay sits up, peeling off the shorts in order to reveal his cock and oh fuck...

he was fucking massive. his tip was leaking pretty pearls of precum that drip down his length as his dick springs up to hit his stomach, reaching passed his belly button.

his cock was so fucking pretty, veins complimenting his girth that run up his entire length and his tip was tan-ish pink, your mouth instantly dried at the sight.

"'s big.. 'nd pretty.." you whisper, your gaze already completely fucked out. you glow in the moonlight, the way you look is nothing short of angelic- and even more. your hands reach out for him, a silent plea for him to come closer.

you need to touch him, feel him, take him.

every fiber of your being craves the man before you, possessively. he crawls over you, his large hand coming to cup your cheek, his forehead resting on yours as he takes his cock into his other hand, pressing his tip against your clit.

your eyes stare into his as he rubs his dick up and down your wet slit, gathering your slick before pushing his tip in.

the stretch hurts an unbelievable amount, and you see his wings shudder at the feeling of your cunt's squeeze. your hands move on their own, coming to grips the top of his pitch black wings to keep yourself steady.

he slowly pushes inside you, thoughts beginning to pop up in your mind if he's going to tear you.

your breathing turns rapid and your eyes start to roll into the back of your head with every fucking centimeter, but jay can't take his eyes off of how a bulge begins to form in your lower abdomen the more he pushes himself inside you.

"so small.. such a tiny little girl, I could break you so easily" he speaks to himself, the way your drenched cunt sucks him in causes him to thrust his entire length inside you, his balls smacking the skin of your ass.

a pained cream scratches its way out of your throat, your nails dig into his wings while tears spill down your cheeks for the nth time that night. he trails his eyes up to your face, leaning down to kiss away the salty tears on your face before kissing your forehead.

you squirm around under him, his entire body swallowing yours while you adjust to his length. his cock pushes up passed your cervix and you swear his tip kisses your god damn stomach.

"j-jay 's too much- can't... pleaase oh god." your helpless squirming continues, but he only hushes you.

"you can take it sweet thing, such a good girl f' me yeah?" you nod your head, his hips moving in order to start thrusting inside of you. it takes a little for the stinging to go away, the pain being replaced by earth shattering pleasure as his pace picks up.

the hand on your face moves to hold himself up on his forearm, resting above your head as the other holds onto your waist, keeping you in place as he fucks himself into you at a rougher, meaner pace that has your nails drawing blood from his wings.

he splits you completely open, the bulge in your belly disappearing and reappearing with every thrust of his hips that snap against yours ruthlessly. you throw your head back into the pillow, your back arching off the mattress. your cunt squeezes down on him tightly, milking him completely dry.

the sounds of skin slapping fill the entire house along side deep groans coming from the demon that takes your breath away, complimented with the perfect melody of your high-pitched, sweet moans.

a white ring forms at the base of jay's cock, a symbol of your guy's unison as one. his balls smack against you.

he lifts his hand up from the mattress above your head, gripping onto the bed frame instead. his nails dig into the skin of your waist so harshly, jay can almost feel blood under his fingernails.

your legs begin to kick around while your hole flutters around jays dick like the prettiest butterfly that's been caught in the devils cage- keeping you all for himself, your beauty being seen for his eyes and his eyes alone.

another orgasm begins to over flow, jay helping you tip it over. your hands move from his gigantic wings in order to grip the sheets besides you, your jaw slacking open while your moans pick up hefty volume.

Jay senses your orgasm before you do, so he sits up and leans back, both hands finding their way to your hips in order to force your body down onto his cock as his pace turns insane, fucking you senseless from the inside out. your body is lifted up into the air apart from your shoulders and head which lay on the comfortable mattress.

"oh my god h-holy fuck s' full, no no can't, please" you shake your head from side to side, your cheeks completely soaked with tears from the scorching pleasure your entire body feels, each thrust feeling like heatwaves that course through your veins .

"look at you; a pathetic, needy little mess. gonna breed this fucking pussy until my cum is dripping out of your hole. would you like that sweetheart?" you nod your head, not understanding a word hes saying.

the coil snaps, your orgasm squirting all over his chest and abdomen.

jay tongues his cheek, a smile forming on his face as he decides to fuck you through your orgasm. overstimulation controls your senses, your hands find his chest in an attempt to push him away.

"no s-stop please, no no please" your words make him scoff, his eyes hold all the lust imaginable as he effortlessly flips you over onto your stomach before landing a stinging slap on your ass.

"shut up" he grips your hair and pulls, your back arching and your scalp burns. he leans down to your ear, licking the skin behind it before speaking.

"you're gonna take whatever I give you like a good little girl, understand?" before getting an answer, he pushes your face into the sheets and spreads your legs, inserting his cock back into your messy, abused hole.

he resumes his pace, his tip kissing passed your cervix painfully as you lay down and take it. your pleasured sounds are swallowed by the pillows on your bed, your hands pull at the sheets desperately and you feel yourself begin to fall apart.

bursts of colors are seen behind your eyelids as you cum once more, making jay throw his head back with one particularly loud groan. he slaps your ass once more, the red hand print taking up the entirety of your ass cheek.

"'m almost done darling, I got you baby, I got you im right here" he hears your loud moans turn into quiet mewls, your drool soaks the pillow beneath you.

his words make you squeeze his length one last time as he shoots his warm ropes of cum deep into your body, completing his final wish in making you his.

"shh baby, its okay im right here"

౨ৎ taglist ;

@honeybelleee

[thezombieprostitute]

Sending you good vibes. ✨

And this man.

You know, I've never written for this giant of a man.

A/N: I do not speak German. I'm pulling a few things from this post and The Little Book of Foreign Swear Words by Sid Finch.

A/N2: Tall reader. Also, for context, König is almost 7' tall.

Warnings: Bad German. Please let me know if I missed any.

Working customer service was a sure way to get you to dream of running away to the middle of nowhere and never interacting with people again. And it's not just the customers, either. If you have to hear your manager bitch about "kids these days" one more time you're gonna start throwing things.

You swear your manager, Lance, gets a kick out of making you, the tallest employee, restock the lowest shelves. For a guy who seemed so confident in himself he sure felt the need to put others down for his own ego. He even chuckles to himself as he walks by and you're bent down for those bottom shelves.

With your knees not able to take much more, you let yourself stand up for a breather. You're startled by a "Scheisse!" On the other side of the cart you were unloading is a veritable giant of a man with grey blue eyes. He looked just as surprised to see you as you were him.

"Tut mir leid," he says. "I...I didn't see you."

"I um...I was pretty well hidden," you stutter. You're so caught off guard by the handsome man you have to look up to that it takes you a few seconds to regain your professionalism. "Um, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh, nein," he shakes his head. "Just trying to find some beer. Good stuff that doesn't uh...schmeckt nicht nach Pisse."

"Well, let me go ahead and get this cart out of your way then so you can see all of the options."

"Danke." He almost sounds relieved that you took the initiative and he didn't have to ask. Considering he immediately goes for the beer that your cart was blocking you get the feeling he was looking at it for some time. You wouldn't be surprised if he tended to feel awkward, socially at least. You know what it's like to be too tall for your own good.

Of course that's the moment Lance decides to check up on your progress. He's already upset at seeing you standing at full height, but with the giant standing next to you, he apparently feels the need to metaphorically swing his dick around.

"What the hell, Giganto? You get too tired of being on your knees? That cart needs to be emptied. You're way behind!"

"Mr. Tucker, there's a customer," you warn.

"What is he your cousin or something? Probably can't find anyone big enough to put you in your place unless you're related to them, damn inbred---"

He's cut off by the giant customer grabbing his neck.

"Dein Schwanz ist so klein, dass es 'ne Maus nicht merkt, wenn du sie fickst."

As much as you don't want to stop him, the customer is assaulting someone. "Sir, I really appreciate your help, but I don't want to have to call the police."

He lets go of Lance, "you are right, Häsechen. He is not worth the police visit." He reaches into his pocket and writes something on a piece of paper before handing it to you. "Should you seek...different employment, give a call. KorTac is hiring and someone as...patient, smart as you could do well."

You smile as you take the paper from him. Given the glares Lance is giving you, you'll likely need to call by the end of the day. You hope you'll get to see him again. Looking at the paper he gave you it has the number followed by "KorTac. König"

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[nightfal1n]

怪獣の花唄 / Vaundy ： MUSIC VIDEO

“Why does he recalling the song his childhood friend used to sing this much. What is Kaiju? Himself or something else, or me? With a countless imaginations and situations born from this song still vague, I turned them into the video“

-- Fujishiro Yuichiro (MV Director)

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[yuukiiqwq]

Satoru was confident that you liked him back. He was positive. He had no doubt in his mind that you were going to be his pretty little wife. Is he getting ahead of himself? Sure, he is, but he's that confident. That's until he noticed how he hadn't received any chocolate from you.

It was Valentine's Day, and he still hasn't received any chocolate from you. Yeah, he had a mountain worth of chocolate from all those people who gave him it, but where was yours? He couldn't find it anywhere. He was sure that you would have placed your chocolate on his desk since you hadn't given him his. He double no triple checked all the chocolates, yet he could not find the one that has your pretty little name written on it. He continued to search through the chocolate pile for the fourth time today.

He must have missed it, right? Or did someone steal it? He swear he's going to hunt that person to the end of the Earth. Who dared to steal something that was rightfully his?

"Satoru, calm down."

He looked up at his best friend, who was trying to hold down a laugh at his panic.

"She'll probably give it to you later. The day just begun."

Right. Suguru is right. You'll give him his chocolate later. He's a good boy. He can wait.

That's what he told himself, but Suguru and Shoko have already received theirs this morning, and his is still nowhere to be found. Where is his chocolate? You're just sitting there in your seat, looking all pretty as if Satoru is not going through a huge dilemma because of you.

He couldn't help his hands that kept inching itself closer to the chocolate you gave Suguru. He wouldn't know if he snatched it, right? Suguru had received a lot of chocolate! He wouldn't know if he took it... was what he convinced himself before Suguru slapped his hand away.

"Satoru," he sighs.

"But Suguru!!!" Satoru whined as he sunk down into his seat.

"Be patient. You'll get yours soon."

But how soon is soon? Satoru isn't exactly known for his patient.

It was the end of the day, and still no chocolate from you. He asked Suguru and Shoko to leave first because he thought you would finally give it to him when both of you were alone. But you haven't. Where was his chocolate?

The two of you were approaching the exit of school, so Satoru made a quick decision, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into an empty classroom. He quickly shut the door and locked it.

"Satoru?" You asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"My chocolate."

"Your chocolate?"

"My chocolate from you! The symbol of your love towards me!"

"I didn't make you any," you replied smoothly. "Forgot to make them yesterday, so I woke up early today to make them, but I guess not early enough. I only had time to finish Shoko's and Suguru's. I didn't have time to make yours. Otherwise, I would have been late."

Satoru swear the world just ended. He looked down at his chest because he swears his heart ripped out of his chest at your words. Nope. Still alive. Why is he still alive in this cruel world? You had no chocolate for him? None? Not even a crumb?

"That's fine with you, right? I mean, you got a bunch of chocolate from other girls! You don't need mine."

He swear he is about to burst into tears. He didn't care about other girls. He didn't care about their chocolate. He wanted yours. How could you be so cruel and deny him of your chocolate? To reject him like this? He was devastated. No. Beyond devastated. Where is the closest cliff so he can jump off?

Pure silence radiated the room as Satoru tried to comprehend this horrible situation. Then he heard a small giggle slip pass your lips. That small giggle soon turns into a full-out laugh.

"You should have seen the look on your face, Satoru," you say as you try to stop laughing.

Was this funny to you? Why were you laughing at his suffering? Do you know how much he looked forward to today? To receive the cute little wrapped up chocolate you made for him? He dreamed of today, and you didn't have chocolate for him?

He then sees you reach into your bag and pull out exactly what he had imagined. A cute little chocolate box wrapped up in a baby blue color with a touch of white ribbon to finish it off. Fuck. He thinks he just got a heart attack seeing your chocolate. His chocolate.

"Princess, please don't joke like that to me ever again. You scared me half to death. I was going to jump off a cliff," he whined as he took the chocolate from your hand.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his dramatic behavior. "Stop being dramatic, Satoru. It's just chocolate."

A look of offense dawned his face as you utter those horrendous words to him.

"Chocolate? Just chocolate?" He huffed at you. He can't believe you as you treat this amazing god send gift as just chocolate. "Don't you dare call this just chocolate! This! This right here is proof of your undying love towards me!"

You laughed at his antics– "You're getting ahead of yourself, Satoru."

He delicately placed the chocolate safety away in his bag, treating it as a prized possession. He's looking forward towards white day. He already knows what he wants to get for you. He pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face against your neck as he mutters– "You won't be saying that after I wife you up."

[aces-and-angels]

video taken from shahed's instagram follow: @shahednhall verification source (no. 224 on el-shab-hussein/nabulsi's list)

"I like to photograph everything. I like to collect special shots because the memory is not repeated. I like to make it in my memory and the memory of everyone. I did not like to share the destruction. I did not like to share the life that has become black and white despite this reality, but my message is to show the beauty of my family and how much they deserve life. I do not want them to appear in a picture they do not like and do not want anyone wish for it. The lens of my camera will continue to transmit the most beautiful shots. Get up, fight for me, a new danger that presses

I hope you save my life before it's too late.🙏💔"

- shahed (please read & share full post here)

no one should have to showcase their suffering for others to care. sadly, people only seem to mobilize after something truly horrific happens. i am begging you all not to wait for the next tragedy. there is no pause button, no reprieve, no escape from the suffering these families face on a daily basis. they all need your help now.

if you don't know her already, shahed is a 21 year old who used to be a student at al-azhar university before the genocide began. with both her parents having taken ill, she is the sole provider for her family right now, including her five siblings, youngest of whom is just a baby.

shahed is currently trying to put together an evacuation fund for her younger sisters (who have hepatitis and are severely ill.) they were recently removed from the clinic where they were getting treated due to overcrowding/because there were more pressing cases to be attended to, likely because of the massacres that took place days ago and are still happening today.

there is no room left for people's complacency-- it's okay if you're unable to donate right now-- what's not okay is assuming others will pick up your slack. just because your dash is full of 🍉content doesn't mean that's the case for others. you taking a second out of your day to spread shahed's campaign brings her that much closer to her goal. please do whatever you can to help her out.

SHAHED NEEDS TO REACH $40K USD BY THE END OF THE JULY IN ORDER TO GET HER FAMILY TO SAFETY

current stats: $34,137 raised

---

tagging for reach (sorry yall- if you wish to be removed from this list, please let me know, no hard feelings🖤)

@timetravellingkitty @meaganfoster @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako

@feluka @terroristiraqi @irhabiya @wellwaterhysteria @deepspaceboytoy

@post-brahminism @junglejim4322 @kibumkim @neechees @mangocheesecakes

@kyra45 @marnota @7bitter @tortiefrancis @toiletpotato

@fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @criptochecca @aristotels

@komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @ot3

@amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat @watermotif

@stuckinapril @violentrevolution @mavigator @lacecap @socalgal

@chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates

[heegyukeluv]

I offer you my everything (lhs)

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: 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. 

my's note: i loved working in this so much. also i wanna emphasize that for god’s sake do not “lose” your virginity due to pressure or anything related to others. do it because you want to!! take your time, there’s no such thing as being too old for it neither need to rush. you have to enjoy it! that being said, i hope you enjoy this writing 🤭

warnings: fluff, pet names, explicit language, reader is insecure about having sex and some other things, SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, virginity loss, kinda pillow princess reader (she doesn’t know what to do, so she just lay down and enjoy), protected sex 💪🏻, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), quick handjob. lmk if I missed something!

wc: 21k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire

Entering college was your dream come true. 

There was a whole fantasy of how your life would change for the better, the new ways of seeing life, dealing with problems – new problems!, meeting new people, going to university parties, starting your adult life. Everything sounded ethereal, almost utopian, and although you were a very down-to-earth type of person, you never stopped your imagination from flowing through the excitedly new unexplored area.

You used to have a very simple and ordinary life in your hometown, going to school everyday, getting great grades, not really engaging with romantic relationships and having a normal amount of friends and people who cared about you. 

Your parents were good people but quite strict with how you should live your life. It wasn’t much of a problem because whatever they were afraid of you getting into and “losing yourself” wasn’t really your cup of tea; you never really cared about having a boyfriend or a girlfriend – and your dad vehemently explained to you how disappointed he would be if you started to date someone with no goals in life or whatever. Doing drugs was way out of your interests, but you were very curious about the whole alcohol thing. And well, you wanted to become a journalist one day, so you pretty much studied for it and made your parents proud of you.

Overall your life was very… vanilla. And a strong part of you wanted it to be a bit spicy.

Not in an exaggerated way – and you had no problem with who wanted their lives to be –, nevertheless you wanted to really live the university experience, so your first months in college were actually dreamy, especially for being away from your parents’ grip and finally trying the taste of what freedom felt like.

You met your classmates and respectives professors, you got to know better about the available clubs and how to enter them, and you met your roommate, Ryujin, which thankfully ended up having enough common interests with you to make a healthy friendship grow. 

Making friends wasn’t a big problem to you as well, because even though you normally showed a very reserved version of yourself at the beginning, people around you just fell for your charms naturally, wanting to be close to you for your aura at first and then because of how supportive and funny you were once they got to know you better. 

Now, in your second year, you already had a spot on a small group of friends, who everyday would try to meet during lunch time to catch up on things and not freak out with the amount of assignments they were dealing with. 

The conversation always flowed nicely, you never felt insecure about sharing a piece of your mind with them since they listened to you well. You were really glad to have people like that in your daily life.

However, there was a single topic that you often would shut up about to avoid being the center of attention, and the said topic was an ongoing conversation right at that moment.

“I need to get laid,” Julie, one of your closest friends, said in a very dramatic way. You forced a smile that you were pretty sure that looked very awkwardly placed on your face. 

You could feel your heart beating fast with the idea of you becoming the subject in that conversation.

“What you really need is a good night's sleep,” Yunjin added with a chuckle, patting Julie’s head who shot a slightly upset look back at her. 

“For that I need to sit on someone. Like, I can literally feel my body aching for a dick,” she explained, keeping the drama in her tone as if she was sick. There was a reason for Julie to be in the theater club afterall. 

“For God’s sake,” Yunjin muttered, rolling her eyes but not really bothered by her friend’s behavior. She was pretty much used to it at this point, and well, quite the same but with girls.

You just watched as they both bickered with each other, hoping for you to stay out the fire and wondering when that conversation would finally become just a reminiscence of your day.

There was no shame on you for being a virgin. It was quite literally your choice since having sex was your last priority during your teenage years although you had guys interested in you in that aspect.

You weren't expecting the right one, your prince charming, nor to get married before. You just never cared much about having sex, and once you started to care you never felt comfortable enough with someone to show yourself so vulnerable, so openly like sex seemed to be.

Once your university life started to kick in and attending parties became a part of your weekends, you really thought that you would finally be able to free yourself enough to have someone with you in a bed, naked, doing sexual things or whatever. But what really happened was you feeling endlessly frustrated with yourself for panicking, finding lame excuses to run away from the possibility of having sex every time a makeout session started to be a bit more intense.

Alongside that often reaction of yours, you went through a tough moment with a specific guy, one you let yourself comfortable around, leading to you one day being in his bedroom while sharing a passionate kiss. With the amount of reassurance he showed you through the whole moments you were just flirting, you thought that sharing that you never had sex before wouldn’t be a problem. He was about to undress you from your bra when you told him, and then he halted his movements, overreacting as he said “I’m no sex teacher to teach college girls how to have sex”.

You never felt so humiliated in your whole life. Not only it became a trigger but also a new thing to overthink; the fact that some guys would see you as too innocent for their sex drive, refusing to do anything with you.

Nevertheless, you were still a woman with desires, with a libido waiting to be directed and mostly, curiosity. 

Your mind would flee to dirty, lascivious places whenever you saw a character you found attractive, such as actors, singers or even real life crushes, sometimes doing the bare minimum but still sparkling in your sexual self, wetting your panties – and in those days you blamed your ovulation. 

But the moment you tried to fulfill your fantasies with real people, your body refused to relax, your mind never stopping from the constant overthinking about either disappointing or just showing how inexperienced in the practical area you were, ending up embarrassing yourself. 

Since you also never looked out for the help of your friends, none of them knew about that part of your life and you always shared a silent feeling of gratitude for the lack of their interest in that area. 

The whole theme being a main focus on conversations constantly made you pretty uncomfortable, because everyone showed to enjoy their sexual lives fully, without any problems like you.

Although you had very incredible friends that you could rely on, you couldn’t help but feel the anxiety of being judged by them, so you always opted to stay quiet or managed to redirect the discussion.

As if someone had listened to your prayers, you noticed another friend of yours – Jake – coming in your direction with a big smile, his backpack hanging loose off his shoulders and someone a bit too familiar alongside him.

You waited for them to be closer to try to recognize the strange and… Shit. 

Your breath got stuck in your airlines when you realized that the guy with Jake was Lee Heeseung.

Your eyes followed how he took a seat in front of Jake, who sat beside you. None of your friends stopped the playful argument when they both arrived at the table, and for a little while you were glad for that, because you for sure couldn’t hide your surprised face and sudden dizziness for having Heeseung that close, looking unnecessarily attractive with his usual sly grin, messy black hair and strong presence.

Heeseung was the basketball captain of your university team.

You harbored a love for sports since childhood, not in a way of being a player but a watcher. During the first weeks of college you discovered that your university had a basketball team and you got really intrigued. Since then, it became your hobby to go over and watch them practicing during your free time or just to study for a while using the sound of balls bouncing on the floor as a background.

It was during one of your study days that you first met Jake, when he accidentally threw a ball in your direction and although you safely dodged, he insisted on taking you to what he called a date, but you weren’t much interested in him like that so you two became friends. 

Jake was definitely hot, but, well… You had a big crush on the very much attractive ace of the team. 

His movements looked meticulously calculated as if he had control of every part of his body, his pretty smiley face whenever he scored a point making your heart miss a few beats, not to mention the shameless winks he gave towards the girls who were watching the match just to make them scream. His overall performance was just sensational, making you wonder if the hands that were harshly used to grip the ball would grip your hips the same way.

Yeah, one of the in real life crushes you would get wet just by thinking about.

You forced yourself to believe that you had everything under control, since crushing on Heeseung was a waste of time and a sentence to have your heart shattered. You knew about his fuckboy reputation and definitely wasn’t planning on being the talk of the week of the “lucky girl that Heeseung fucked” or anything similar, neither wanted to face the consequences of getting involved with him – the amount of gossips going around with your name would increase considerably as people would try their best to destroy your self-esteem. 

Or at least that’s what you heard from your friends, wondering for a long time if people were exaggerating just because of jealousy. 

You weren’t that desperate to lose your virginity, although the thought of losing it to Heeseung seemed quite interesting – but, again, impossible.

Heeseung's existence in your life always resembled to be like an idol. Not in a sense of you idolizing him, but as someone you were intrigued by, loving to watch him by far, never getting close enough given that nothing could even happen between you two, especially because how would two different worlds collide like that? 

So in your own defense of how your body was reacting, no one prepared you to be so close to him without a previous warning, even with the fact that Jake was friends with Heeseung. Your brain just insisted on forgetting that eventual possibility.

“What are you guys talking about?”

And then you really panicked.

You also forgot that Jake was pretty much a gossiper and would rather know what the table was talking about instead of bringing another new subject to it. And now there was Heeseung sitting with all of you, making it harder to breathe and to focus on any other thing. You could feel the sweat dampening your armpits, the idea of you having to talk about your sexual life haunting you to death at that moment.

“Me getting laid,” Julie answered with a cheeky smile. 

“Oh,” Jake was taken back with her quick and honest response, you could notice by the way he slightly widened his eyes. Heeseung just laughed. And what a pretty fucking laugh. 

“Don’t act like you never fucked in your life, Jake,” Yunjin said narrowing her eyes skeptically, adding to the fuel.

You felt your cheeks and the top of your ears burning. And not only that, there was a very intense gaze right towards you that you refused to look up to meet. The scrunched napkins on the table looked way more interesting than anything else at that moment.

“I’m still not used to all your… Openness,” he motioned with his hands as he explained. You mentally cursed Jake’s oblivious self for giving Julie the right words for her to be even more blatant in her dramatic speech. 

“Oh boy, I really wish I’d be open–” 

“Julie!” Yunjin now screamed flabbergasted with Julie’s audacity, laughing loudly and smacking her friend's shoulder while you hid yourself in your hands, fully embarrassed. You couldn’t hold back a small, kind of a relieved laugh because the topic apparently was about to end.

You heard Heeseung chuckling with them and decided to search for his eyes just to meet them already on you, shamelessly checking you out. You instantly avoided his not a little soft glances at your chest and lips, but not with enough time to fail to perceive how he bit his bottom lip while still smiling.

“Care to present your friend?” Yunjin directed the question to Jake when she stopped laughing.

“I thought you already knew Heeseung,” Jake sounded confused.

“We do, but I don’t know if Y/N do,” she explained, pointing to you.

Now every pair of eyes on the table was on you and normally that wasn’t a big deal, you loved the attention your friends gave whenever you were the one speaking. But Heeseung being the owner of one of those pairs made it difficult for you not to blush harder.

“O–oh,” you damned yourself for stuttering, swallowing nothing. “I actually know him too, yeah. I– I watch the uni basketball practices sometimes.” You tried to sound cool, forcing a very awkward smile, but your voice was so obviously nervous you just wished no one would notice. 

However, Heeseung’s lips curved into a smirk told you that he, at least, noticed. And was enjoying seeing you so flustered.

“I’ve seen you there a few times”, it was his first words since he sat with your group, his voice sounding quite different from when you normally heard him – screaming in the basketball court with his teammates to hype them up. 

Your heartbeat was loud inside your chest, and you wondered if the reason behind was because of Heeseung’s intense presence, or how dreamy his voice sounded, or the fact that he had perceived you in his games. All the options sounding very unnecessarily smitten to you, who usually knew your place, grounded with your feelings, but apparently not with Heeseung and his charming face.

Jake nodded, smiling cutely at you. But not a cutely you enjoyed seeing; it was a mischievous grin. You gulped.

“Heeseung insisted on sitting with us today, saying he wants to get to know you better,” Jake nudged your shoulder with his’, wiggling his eyebrows while the girls hummed teasingly at you.

You widened your eyes, your cheeks with a tone of red spreading all over. You noticed Heeseung’s cherry colored lips still with a petty grin, his eyes slightly hooded as he faced you. That alone was enough to get yourself worked up, sending signals directly to your cunt. 

You literally clenched around nothing just because Heeseung smirked at you while holding eye contact.

Of course you would react like a teen that just got a confession from her crush mixed with a pervert that never had sex in her life and got horny by little things – which, in part, was true.

Nevertheless, hearing Heeseung laugh along with Jake’s next words completely dashed your hopes and your arousal away. 

“I’m joking. It’s funny and cute how you always react with things like this.”

You now had to blink a few times to recompose yourself just enough to fake a smile, trying not to demonstrate that your panties were a bit damp and you, frustrated.

“Not funny to play with a girl's feelings, Jake,” Julie uttered when she noticed your slight discomfort.

Now it was the time to take your realistic persona and act out of the situation, as you pulled your best facial expression in order to cover your kind of hurted heart. “There are no feelings,” you urged to say with a forced laugh, failing to notice Heeseung’s smile dropping for a second. “Yeah, it’s funny now, but I’m pretty sure you were on the verge of crying when I refused to go with you on that date,” you cocked your head with a raised eyebrow facing Jake, watching his expression contort in all the five stages of grief at once, his lips parted with widen eyes at the end.

“You’re mean,” he whined and you laughed.

“Only for you,” and you gave him a little wink before standing up and gathering all your things on the table to put back on your backpack. “I gotta go now, see ya later?” You looked at your girl friends who just nodded and said a cute goodbye to you, avoiding eye contact with Heeseung as you did so.

As you made your way to your upcoming class, your mind automatically flooded with thoughts about what just happened; you yourself questioning for how long you would be able to hide your inexistent sexual life from your friends, or even if you should keep doing it, due the fact that they could help you get over your insecurities and apprehensions.

Besides, it was becoming quite unbearable to cope with the frustration of wanting, yearning, and desiring, yet never being able to make a move beyond it.

And since when would Heeseung pay genuine attention to you? You couldn’t deny that even with your head making sure to remind you of the unrealistic nature of things happening with Heeseung, your feelings seemed to have been crushed in a very hurtful way.

There was a part of you that believed a bit in the fantasy of him being a very warm and approachable guy who would do cute things with you, respect your space and time and also be the one who you have sex with. 

On the other hand, you constantly reinforced the thought of being impossible and somehow weird. You felt weird. Like a true pervert of some kind. 

You spent the whole class thinking about what Jake said and how Heeseung's eyes wandered your features with something very similar to what you saw in some other guys. Desire. 

But at that point you comprehended that your mind had started to like to make things up. Jake was lying after all.

You just wished for your sentiments and needs to vanish quickly, or at least for you to be able to replace the person. In any case, you decided to avoid the basketball court for a few days. 

Not showing up to watch the team’s practice and games did not prevent you from running into Heeseung almost everyday, which was the main reason behind your decision – to get over your silly little crush on him.

Apparently fate had other plans for you and you honestly didn’t know how to feel. Heeseung began to be part of your group hangouts alongside Jake, now being a regular presence to the point where your friends would frequently ask his whereabouts, as if everyone in the group suddenly grew a liking for him.

And honestly, you couldn’t blame them. Apart from your tangled, weird feelings that for sure had something to do with how you envisioned him, Heeseung revealed to be a genuine sweet, caring person, easily breaking parts of your pre-concept about his stereotypes. 

His “player” aura was fading little by little, even though his confident demeanor kept its place on his every move.

Heeseung had gleaming eyes shooting you the most flirtatious, intense gaze, with equal glistened lips adorning the most endearing smirk, enough to make you lose your words, to lose your mind. Not to mention how often his body leaned towards yours in order to give you full attention.

Heeseung would cock his head and glance at your lips whenever you were the one speaking, simple behaviors messing you over and over, tempting you to dive into the pool of the unexplored, the so lustful field you never let yourself do a proper investigation, too afraid of surrendering to your feelings and needs.

The more you got to know him, the harder it became to dismiss the growing admiration and longing feeling running all over your body. Heeseung wasn’t just some fleeting crush anymore. He became something you couldn’t name yet, still fuzzing your mind, the crawling sensation on your skin wanting more and more of whatever he had to offer – just a look, just a smile, just some words, just some gentle brush of skins. Anything. 

At some point your chest started to palpitate just by the mention of his name, your blood running cold instantly as your whole posture changed, terrified of someone knowing about your feelings, about your dirtiest thoughts, about how he would visit your dreams at night to show you how much you craved his body. 

God, you were so fucked up, so desperate, and nonetheless, hesitant.

Something strongly held you back, even with Heeseung’s attempts to become closer to you, asking direct questions to you, trying nonstop to get to know you better, just like Jake once told you he wanted to.

You never let him in. Not openly, not with your words, not in front of him – you refused to risk having a broken heart because Heeseung was simply being his normal self and you, seeing beyond his charming facade.

Heeseung had occupied a spot in your mind from day one, ever since his damp, sweaty hair stuck on his forehead together with a cocky smile seemed way too attractive to your eyes and you began to pay more attention to his existence. That was true. But you only allowed him to do his proper mess inside your head after de-idolizing him; after the looks he gave to every other girl started to have you as the main target, after his hands “accidentally” brushed on yours during your moments sitting side by side sending shivers throughout your body, after he questioned about how you day have been and actually paid attention to your answer, your stomach doing flips every time.

Heeseung was now part of your thoughts because he showed genuine affection and worry about you, without you asking for it. And alongside all of that, he was so fucking and unnecessarily hot.

But what if all of this was just a game? Just another girl he messes around with, playing with her feelings just because he can. Just because he's attractive and you're foolishly falling for him…? 

…Falling for him?

“Stop overthinking,” Sunoo’s voice cut your roam of thoughts as he appeared out of nowhere, dropping his books on the table before sitting across you in the library, catching you totally off guard. 

“Damn it, Sunoo!” You nearly screamed, covering your mouth to restrain it, ignoring the librarian's angry glare.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he chuckled softly. “But your frown is screaming at me, what’s on your mind?”

“Ahm, just some media ethics stuff, y’know–”

“Cut that off, sweetie. I’m not asking about your studies. You know that. I’m asking about your frown, your overthinking frown,” he said, gently pressing his finger on your forehead. “What’s really going on in there?”

You sighed. 

The two of you had met in your first year when you realized you shared almost all your classes. Since then, Sunoo had become one of your closest friends – the trustworthy one, the always-down-for-anything one, and also the one who worried about you the most. He was a comforting presence, someone you could rely on to listen to your concerns and anxieties without judgment.

Still, despite this, you felt nervous. Your eyes darted around searching for any eavesdroppers, a few students scattered throughout the library, deeply focused on their studies, oblivious to your conversation. Yet your tense nerves inhibited you from sharing your true worries as you opened and closed your mouth a few times without being able to talk.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Sunoo asked softly, eyes offering you comfort as he held your hands and caressed them.

You nodded, watching his body instantly lifting up from his seat to help you grab your things and his own, snatching your hand with his to drag you around the campus until you found a quiet place near some trees. 

“Go ahead, sweetie,” Sunoo said as he leaned in one of the trees, watching your gaze avoiding his and your cheeks reddening a bit.

“I’m having some troubles, personal problems, if I’m being honest…” Sunoo said nothing, just nodded his head in a reassuring way although you weren’t looking at him. “It’s–” you gulped. Your mind screaming at you to shut up, because you were certain he would make fun of you. Sunoo, the guy who always had people crushing on, definitely would not understand what you are going through. You searched for his eyes, just to find them filled with compassion. “I’m–” You shut your eyes searching for the best way of saying. “I’m a virgin,” you blurted out in a low tone, your face burning with embarrassment as you refused to open your eyes. 

However, Sunoo's nonchalant reaction took you by surprise. “Okay, and?” Then you blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the lack of judgment. This was not what you prepared yourself for. “What’s the problem?” He sounded genuinely confused with your dumbfounded expression. “That’s all? I mean, if it’s really bothering you we can talk through it, but I don’t think it’s that big of a deal, sweetie…”

“So… You think that’s normal for a college girl to be a virgin? You don’t think it’s something to be weird or to be asham–”

“My dear Y/N,” he cut you off by holding your head softly to look directly into his eyes. “First of all there’s no such thing as what's normal or not normal when it comes to many things. Also, please never let someone make you feel ashamed of who you are or how you’ve chosen to live your life, ok?” Your honest reaction was to stare at Sunoo in astonishment. “Promise me, Y/N.”

“I promise,” your voice was muffled since he was holding you still.

“Now spill the real tea, because I’m pretty sure this is just the tip of the iceberg.”

So you vented out about everything running through your mind, your worries, your genuine curiosity mixed with a fear, how you were aching for something you were too afraid of getting – or letting yourself to get. 

Relief ran throughout your body, as Sunoo made you comfortable enough to go subject by subject in order to help you name all of your nameless and confused feelings, including to situate where your expectations were set. You wanted your first time to be enjoyable, that’s for sure, so you had to be with someone who would help you erase your turbulent thoughts by reassuring you regularly – a one night stand type of thing was not an option, you realized with Sunoo. 

You shared your apprehension on disappointing with your lack of experience, and to that Sunoo settled your nerves by saying “If the person respects you, you don’t have to worry about that,” and you discovered another name for what you wanted. 

The anguish of not knowing what to do or where to go was slowly diminishing every time you labeled what previously you were able to describe only as a ‘bittersweet feeling of panic and desire’. 

You also didn’t need to directly mention Heeseung, Sunoo himself brought his name after connecting the obvious dots of the said crush being Heeseung, especially since his glances at you and your reactions to it were anything but subtle.

“Don’t have to worry about that either, sweetie. I don’t think any of the others noticed it, they’re too oblivious sometimes,” Sunoo calmed you down after you almost cried due to your embarrassment of someone noticing your messed up self. 

Something Sunoo said reverberated throughout your day as well. “You will always be a virgin if you don’t have sex. And if you’re afraid of having sex because you’re a virgin, it’s an unsolved paradox.”

Your talk with Sunoo eased your mind, but also introduced a whole new scenery of thoughts – gladly not anxious one. You were depriving yourself of your own pleasure, of your own desire. And perhaps the real reason was because you feared… liking it. 

So after a good night of sleep, you decided to head out to your favorite place during your free time: the basketball court. Not necessarily to watch anything – or someone in particular, but to ponder what you had going through your head the whole night ever since Sunoo’s advices and sweet, reassuring words. 

Of course your choice of place would lead you to probably bump into a specific someone, and part of you really hoped for that.

While you drank your iced coffee, you wondered if Sunoo was being serious when he said that the talk about Heeseung in most cases was disconnected with reality. He didn’t explain much about it, but what he said was enough to intrigue you.

“Hey,” a far, but known voice snapped you out of your trance, and instantly your whole body heated.

You watched Heeseung jogging in your direction, panting a big, sweat dripping off his temples and his arms in display for you since he was wearing a sleeveless shirt.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you here,” he said, shooting you a small smile, easily walking through the seats by skipping them with his long legs until he got closer. 

“Yeah, I’ve been a bit busy,” you answered, fighting yourself not to tremble and to avoid glazing your eyes on his body, the team’s uniform looking gorgeous in contrast with his skin tone.

“Missed you, Y/N,” Heeseung talked with a gentle voice, his usual sparkly eyes growing wide as he realized what he just said. “I mean, I missed you being around, y’know,” he tried to play it cool and due to your nervous self, you barely noticed he was going through the same emotion.

He was so attractive, and for some reason the mix of his perfume with his sweat inebriated your air lines, making it a little difficult to breathe. 

Little did you know that Heeseung was in a similar state, lost in how cute you looked that day, your comfy outfit and the single ponytail doing your face features justice by letting them shine with a natural beauty you carried confidently.

Heeseung noticed you on the very first day you appeared to watch a game. He normally paid little to no real attention to who watched his practice, the flirty glances and winks thrown at the crowd usually was just for fun and no one in particular, but your sudden appearance was overwhelming, his stomach did flips and his so focused self was faltering before your presence. 

He had to take a good, long, cold shower after in the locker room to try to get over his exaggerated reactions. How does one get his heart pounding so fast, hands sweating and distracted concentration just because they are good looking?

He for sure knew plenty of attractive people, but none got his heart aching and his body craving like you did. 

“I’m sorry, I know I’m the team’s lucky charm,” you acted out of your bubble a bit. That would be a normal saying by you, actually. But around Heeseung you worked differently, actions more withdrawn than ever, flustered by the fact that his focus was on you, and only you. 

You barely had any moments alone with Heeseung, most of the time some friend of yours was engaged in the conversation as well, so to talk directly to him without having another person to cover up your nervous state was pretty difficult, especially by the way he held eye contact on you, as he was reading every bare piece of you.

“Yeah, I really don’t know what to do without you,” Heeseung put his hand on his heart dramatically as he said and you blushed, pushing his shoulder and avoiding looking at his face. 

And well, he wasn’t lying. 

Your constant attendance, whether to really pay attention to what was happening or just to quietly study as you regularly did, threw his mind into chaos. Heeseung had to physically restrain himself from jumping across the seats to ask for your number at first, your aura seeming a bit coy to him – not in an off putting way, but in a way that made him think you deserved someone better than what he could offer. Alongside that, he believed there was no way a hot, beautiful and smart girl like you would pay any attention to him.

It wasn't like Heeseung was insecure, he knew his strengths and how to work with them. A line of girls would eagerly wait for a chance to spend a night with him, though he never went that far with many of them, choosing carefully who he led to his room or allowed in his life.

Nevertheless, the feeling of having that kind of attention was addicting. To feel desired by them fed his ego, he never denied that. 

That alone convinced Heeseung that you, out of all his options, would never let him taste a crumb of what he really wanted from you.

And then there was the moment he got to know about Jake being friends with you. 

His instincts told him to give up, but he had to try, a demeanor similar to a man who never saw a woman in his life before, just to get a little bit of whatever you would give to him.

Heeseung grew obsessed with your presence, with you. Yet never bold enough to do much about it, too afraid of your so certain rejection. Then you suddenly disappeared and he missed you like crazy, to the point of befriending your friends simply to have a bit of your presence in his daily life.

To get you know better did no good to his health at all. He got enthralled by your sarcastic, funny personality, your endearing laughs and genuine love for your friends, spilling through your actions and words, always supporting them without losing your humor. 

Heeseung got a small taste of how it feels to have you around and he grew addicted – even more than for the feeling of being desired by many, more thrilling than the praise for his performance or the rush of winning a game. At the end of the day, Heeseung wanted your attention and your praises. 

After realizing it, he decided to step up on his game.

“So…” Heeseung cleared his throat after your silence. “Are you free later?” 

The question itself had nothing openly implied, just a normal, simple and direct ask. But God, why did your heart started to beat so fast? Why did your face felt like fire burning all over it?

You forced yourself to meet Heeseung's gaze, his eyes filled with anticipation and eagerness, just like your reply could change the whole path of his life. 

“Ahm, yeah, kinda. Why?”

You watched as his expression lighted up and how he tried to hold back his smile while scratching the back of his neck. Spotting Heeseung apparenting to be nervous ignited a different, sudden feeling inside you, as if you now understood that you affected him in some way. Or that he was a very good actor. 

“I was wondering if you would like to come over to my place– We’re going to throw a small party, so it’d be cool to have you there,” he nodded to himself, proud for not stuttering at all. When did inviting a girl to a party become that hard?

Unfortunately for him, you paid close attention to his behavior and body language, how he avoided looking at your eyes even though he was the king of maintaining eye contact while speaking and how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as if he swallowed hard. All the pieces together put you in a new position, one that you felt confident enough to play on his game. 

“A party, huh?” You showed him a smile before biting your bottom lip and tilting your head to the side, as if you were thinking about his invitation, Heeseung’s eyes catching every movement and your eyes catching his not a bit subtle glances. “I’ll try to fit you in my schedule.” 

And you gave him a wink as you stood up to go back to your dorm without waiting for a response, knowing that your sudden courage would not last long to keep it going, not even realizing you left Heeseung in a total speechless form.

Attending a party alone was not something common to your lifestyle at all, same as accepting going on one just because of an acquaintance of yours. 

Usually your friends – Yunjin or Sunoo, in particular – would be the ones to tag you along, since you liked to go out but never got that extroverted side to be directly invited; you didn’t even bother to care much, because as said before, your friends were the ones in charge to lead you to the places.

In addition to that, not only would you have a company so you would not feel alone, but also a friend nearby to look after you – though your alcohol tolerance was pretty high, you didn’t trust yourself to make sound decisions sober, let alone drunk.

Later on, Heeseung messaged you saying you could invite the girls and Sunoo, but to your misfortune and as if fate was tricking you, all of them had other plans and left you hanging this time. Yunjin encouraged you to go by yourself, since Jake would probably be there as well as Heeseung, so you gathered all the courage you had left and decided to go.

Nevertheless, Heeseung wasn’t necessarily your friend yet. 

You both shared information about each other during the time he hung out with you and your friend group, enough for you to know his degree and some of his life interests like favorite movies, music and the fact he was a chronic gamer. 

Whilst you didn’t trust him enough to have your back if needed to, there was something on the way he oftenly treated you that broke down your doubtful barriers with ease, not only by his respectful manners but also by his desirable glances. Heeseung would look at you with a perfect mix of endearment and craving, like he wanted you so bad he would do anything, but never crossing the line, waiting for you to make the first move.

It was reassuring in some type of way, to feel wanted and at the same time, respected. Upon this conclusion, you felt confident enough to cross the opened door and to enter the house, hearing the loud music boosting through the speakers as a bunch of people danced to it, some of them seeming way too drunk already. 

The fluttering sensation in your stomach showed you not only the fear of being by yourself, but mostly the obvious, expected acknowledgment you would eventually bump into Heeseung. 

Before you could walk your way to the kitchen to get something to drink – a shot of courage, maybe, someone gave you a sudden bear hug and by the drunken voice you noticed it was Jake.

“You came!” 

“Yeah!” You answered with the same pitch, hugging him back, relieved that your whole internal dilemma ended quickly. Or you thought so. “You look kinda drunk,” you stated the obvious with a sarcastic tone, sly smile at him when he pulled out of the hug.

Jake literally giggled as a response and wrapped his free arm around your shoulder, dragging you around, his other hand occupied holding his cup. 

“Let me introduce you to my friends, you introduced me to yours so it’s only fair if I do the same, right?” You laughed at his very slurred words, as well as how cute he sounded having his cheeks flustered due to the alcohol. 

However, when you realized that he was leading you to his friends – and Heeseung was his friend – you almost froze, stumbling a little on your legs while your whole body tensed. You damned Jake for not letting you take your shot of courage before.  

“No need to be nervous,” Jake murmured close to your ear, his hands resting now on your waist as he continued to walk with you. The distance wasn’t that far, but Jake kept stopping to greet everyone along the way so it took you both double the time.  

“I’m not–”

“You’re doing the face you do when you’re nervous,” he pointed out.

“Am I that easy to read?” You let out an awkward chuckle, feeling shy at how transparent your reactions were. 

“Yeah,” he replied, causing you to now genuinely laugh at his sincerity. “You’ll like them. They already like you. Heeseung doesn’t shut up about you, so they're already familiar with who you are.”

What?

You had no time to think about his words or even react properly, a bunch of new friendly smiles greeting you.

“This is Sunghoon and Jay,” Jake indicated with his fingers to the ones sitting on the couch in the corner of the room. “The two over there are Riki and Jungwon,” Jake pointed with the hand that held his cup to the two who were standing and talking with each other, but when their names were mentioned they looked at you with curiosity. “And Heeseung you already know, but I don’t know where he is.”

Part of you felt relieved by Heeseung's absence, while another part was somewhat disappointed.

“Hey, you must be Y/N,” the one you understood as being Jay stood up to greet you with a hug, followed by Sunghoon.

“Enjoying the party so far?” The taller one asked, looking you directly into your eyes. You showed him a gentle smile as you answered.

“I kinda just arrived, so…” Sunghoon nodded, mouthing an ‘oh’ and sitting again on the couch although his gaze kept focused on you. You shook your head when he silently asked if you wanted to sit as well. “But I can say the music is pretty nice. Whoever chose the playlist has a good taste.”

“Thanks.”

You weren’t expecting to feel Heeseung’s presence close, right behind you. His sweet yet low voice making you shiver, a weird feeling tingling your skin. 

“I chose the playlist.”

You gulped down your flustered self to turn around and address your attention to him, just to meet his signature flirty expression, this time a little more… softened. He shamelessly checked you out, eyes sparkling in interest as he tried to hold back his smile, disguising it with a small smirk.

His outfit took your breath away, as he wore a black dress shirt that had the first two buttons open and a beautiful silver chain necklace contrasting his slightly tanned skin, every move of his tempting you to see what was underneath the clothing piece. 

You saw how Heeseung’s Adam's apple moved up and down before he raised an eyebrow playfully when his eyes landed on your face again. 

He paid attention to the way your cheeks turned into a soft shade of red that he was sure wasn't just because of your makeup blush, and damn, how could you look so hot with black skirt and an oversized black shirt? Your legs in full display to him to savor. 

“You look pretty,” he complimented you, sincerity and a taste of desire evident in his tone. You smiled shyly, feeling a warm blush rise to your cheeks.

“Oh, thank you. You look great yourself,” you replied, and although you felt flustered for being that close to Heeseung, you didn’t hesitate to maintain eye contact, focusing the most you could not to falter. 

Heeseung chuckled, his hands dipped in his pockets as he straightened his posture, quickly averting from your gaze before coming back to look at you again. 

So gorgeous, his heart was beating unnecessarily fast just by seeing you and even faster because of your compliment.

“I’m glad to hear that, y’know, I was hoping to make a good impression,” the alcohol in his system made him a bit bolder than he normally was around you, his body leaning subtly closer to yours, his eyes taking the typical glances at your lips.  

You huffed a flustered laugh, looking at him through your eyelashes. “You– You don’t have to try that hard, though,” you tried to speak confidently, and you actually did it, biting your lips as a way of restraining yourself from literally jumping on that hot, attractive, charming, man.

The little giggling noises behind your back made you aware that you were not alone with Heeseung to be that fearless, so you took a step back, suddenly feeling hesitant. 

“You think so?” Heeseung, on the other hand, didn’t care about his friends, maintaining his flirty aura as he stepped closer to you, a playful grin adorning the corner of his glistening lips. However, he quickly caught the slight discomfort in your posture and decided to give you some space, backing off. “Well, next time I’ll just let my natural charm do the work, then,” he winked at you and casually sat on the couch arm beside Jay and Sunghoon.

You felt a bit out of your place, your wobbly legs not letting you do much and you awkwardly self not knowing exactly what to do. Jake was long gone already, lost in the sea of people while the other boys chatted between themselves. You stood near to the wall next to the other couch arm, engaging in the conversation as they asked you a few things in order to make you feel included. Eventually, Jungwon and Riki joined as well, bringing you a drink, and you got to know all of them better. 

Throughout the entire time, Heeseung wasn’t subtle with his glances, eyeing you up and down, taking his sweet time appreciating your bare thighs and your lips whenever you spoke. And even when you caught him staring, he didn’t flinch, full of confidence, biting his lower lip just to wet it with his tongue right after, definitely not paying attention to their friends talking.

So excessively hot. 

Heeseung was torn between awe and frustration. Having you so close, yet so out of reach was killing him inside – he wished for you to take the obvious hints he was giving of being so down to kiss you, his body aching in despair. 

And he grew even more desperate and frustrated when Jungwon boldly asked you, “Do you wanna go dance with me?” 

Heeseung watched the subtle surprise in your expression as your eyes flicked to him briefly, missing the silent plea for him to repeat what Jungwon had just said.

Still, you hesitated for another reason. Normally one of your friends would push you out of your shell to do what you wanted to, but were afraid of. But not only Jungwon's cute smile got into your heart, you also thought to yourself it was time to make your own decisions, even the simple ones like accepting or not a dance.

“Sure,” you agreed, grabbing the hand he offered you, following him to the makeshift dance floor. 

Heeseung’s eyes couldn’t drift away from how your body moved with Jungwon’s precise lead, your hips synchronized with the rhythm, your happy smile lip syncing the song together with Jungwon. He watched his friend get closer to you to whisper something in your ear, making you laugh brightly, wishing to be the one to make you feel that way, to touch, to have you like that.

Heeseung was growing jealous of Jungwon’s demeanor around you, having his hands confidently resting on your waist, guiding you through the music with ease, whispering things he wished so badly to know what it was.

He knew he was shameless staring, Sunghoon mocking his reactions as he scoffed and rolled his eyes, annoyed by the sight of another man touching you.

“Why are Jungwon’s hands roaming all over her body like that?” He asked without taking you out of his sight.

“They’re just dancing, relax.” Sunghoon smiled playfully.

“Jungwon is just being nice to her,” Riki pointed out. “They share a few things in common and they both like to dance, so it was just a convenient situation, y’know? Nothing to worry about.” Riki tapped his friend’s shoulder.

“We all know the girl’s yours,” Jay said.

“She’s not mine.” 

Yet, Heeseung completed it on his mind, but his friends knew all too well about that too.

On your side of the story, despite the warmth of Jungwon’s company, you couldn’t ignore the weight of Heeseung’s gaze, taking a glimpse once and a while of his so unreadable expression. You couldn’t figure out if it was anger or envy or desire or frustration, Heeseung showed you a mix of everything and, God, you wanted so badly for him to do something.

“Heeseung is looking at me like he’s going to kill me,” Jungwon whispered in your ear, and you laughed nervously. 

“I hope he doesn't, you’re too nice and young to die.”

Jungwon chuckled at your response, and then noticed how your body tensed up suddenly. He followed your eyes and you both watched Heeseung’s tall figure standing up and walking towards you two. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Heeseung’s voice was smooth, just like him. Your heart started to race too fast when Jungwon handed you to Heeseung.

“She’s all yours,” Jungwon winked, saying a quick goodbye to you and heading back to his friends. 

Even with now being just the two of you, Heeseung didn’t touch you without your permission, partly because he was scared of not being able to control himself at all. He blinked a few times waiting for you to take the lead and his breath hitched when your hands went directly to rest on his shoulders. 

You gave him a reassuring look, allowing him to touch you, and nearly melted when his fingers found their place on your waist, caressing the place gently as he slowly moved you both to the music. Every so often, your eyes would meet and each time you couldn’t help but blush and smile shyly before quickly looking away, Heeseung thinking how precious you seemed acting like that. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” you started saying after the silence of your voices. “I’d love to dance with you a bit more, but I have to be honest, my social battery is pretty drained already,” your lips curved into a small, apologetic pout.

“Do you wanna go home?” He asked softly, bold hands now moving a bit more freely on your body. You shook your head, since going home equaled being away from his embrace. “Do you wanna get out of here?” You nodded cutely and he smiled, endeared by your behavior. “Come with me,” he said and kindly held your hand to lead you away from the party, not before stepping briefly in the kitchen to grab you both a drink.

Heeseung took you to the back of the house, being one of the owner’s he knew all the places where people could and couldn’t be, so a big part of you felt relieved for not having to deal with a crowd overwhelming your senses. 

“You look quite tired,” he uttered with a hint of concern, as you both walked slowly through the backyard, way less people scattered through it as you just followed him without thinking much about it, focusing on your drink.

“Yep, I think I overworked my social battery today,” you answered with a chuckle. “But it was pretty fun, though. Your friends are really cool.”

“They are.”

You both stopped walking at some point, Heeseung nodded his head towards the low wall that surrounded the house for you both to sit on it, a very peaceful, quiet place to run away from the party chaos. 

“What about you?” You asked curiously, tilting your head to catch his profile before he turned to face you.

“Hm?”

“You don’t seem to be the type to just sit back and watch the party,” you stated, swinging your legs as you finished your drink. 

“Yeah? What do you think I should be doing then?” Heeseung raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your perception about him.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, averting your eyes to anything but him when you said. “Banging with someone?”

“What!?” Heeseung exasperated, as if he was really offended. You laughed out loud with his extremely exaggerated reaction. “Is that what you think of me, Y/N?” 

“Well, y’know, it’s kind of hard to think otherwise. Your reputation doesn't help much,” you explained and forced your best innocent look when your eyes rested on him again. You tried so hard not to laugh at his very deeply offended expression. 

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t think I’m the person you think I am,” he huffed a laugh, biting his lips right after to glaze his eyes on you. “Don’t even know when was the last time I– Sorry,” he quickly interrupted himself with an embarrassed smile. “I might’ve overshared a bit.” 

You shook your head, smiling away your fluster. “You’re fine. But it's still hard to believe.”

“You should ask my friends, then!” He was really trying to defend himself in this one. “Ask Jake!”

“And he’ll tell me what? That you have a long list of women you hooked up with?” You teasingly wigged your eyebrows, nudging him playfully.

“God, no,” he whined and you laughed at his adorable frustration.

You didn’t know it was this fun to tease Heeseung.

“How do I put this… Mhm,” he looked away, suddenly flustered. You were slightly surprised by his demeanor. It was the first time you witnessed Heeseung being something similar to shy. “I like to kiss,” your eyes grew wide and now was your time to be nervous. “So when I go to parties, I might be found kissing someone if I’m really in the mood, but just because I like to kiss, y’know?” He continued, shrugging, trying his best not to sound crazy to you. “And what I’ve noticed is that the people that I kiss, turn a simple makeout into something more when they talk about it, which almost never really happens if I’m being honest,” he paused. “I can count on my fingers how many women I’ve actually taken to my room.”

You swallowed hard, almost audibly gulped, a mix of sensations running throughout your body with his confessions. 

“And I also enjoy the flirting, y’know. Their reactions flatters my ego,” this time he was so obviously teasing you after he noticed your embarrassment, finding it adorable how your cheeks got painted red.

You rolled your eyes, pushing his shoulders in annoyance as he laughed. “I’m not joking, though,” he added. “But once I’m committed, I give up on all of that because I can only think about the person I’m liking.”

All that new information sent your brain into overdrive, unnecessarily attractive the way Heeseung’s voice got low at the end, as if he was telling you a secret, a lustful secret, shivers running all over your spine and you having no idea of what to do. You tried hard not to read between the lines. If you did, you would pick up on the message wrongly, because there was no way he was genuinely hitting on you.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable,” Heeseung hurried to say, his eyes softening on you. 

“No,” you shook your head, chuckling. “I’m just… surprised. Didn’t expect you to be this open,” you admitted, your nervousness waving away from your body, feeling a bit more at ease around him. He still carried his cocky, flirty, charming aura, but now with a taste of honesty you appreciated. 

“I just wanted you to know me, instead of what people say about me,” Heeseung confessed with a tender smile. You nodded, glad for his sincerity. 

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the muffled noise of the party still going serving as a background. Heeseung was so terribly desperate to touch you again, his hands hesitantly hovering yours, yet never really touching it, as you obliviously looked at the scenery surrounding you, the trees throbbing by the quiet breeze relaxing your senses while you took a few deep breaths. 

“Do you wanna go back inside or…?” Heeseung sweet voice eagerly broke the silence, attracting your attention. He was hungry for you, even without tasting you before. His eyes were dripping honey as he watched you consider your options for a bit, pursed lips with a slightly frown.

The peaceful atmosphere embraced you, not only by the cool weather but also Heeseung’s calm, sweet, yet strong presence. You looked through your eyelashes at the adorable bambi eyes that waited anxiously for your answer, blinking slowly. Something has shifted in the air between you two, and surprisingly your body was relaxed with the possible outcome, your heartbeats strong in your chest.

“I’m fine here, actually. What about you? Do you wanna go back?” Your voice sounded way softer than you expected, and just then you realized how close Heeseung’s face was to yours, his alcohol breath mingling with yours mixed with the scent of his cologne, sending you into a trance. 

Your eyes naturally wandered through his beautiful facial features, his cute nose, his sparkly eyes, the little mole on his forehead, and of course, the oh, so kissable lips, tempting you so badly. You never had Heeseung that close to you, and he was so fucking breathtaking.

“No,” Heeseung replied under the same tone as yours. You observed how he hesitantly raised his hand near your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, chills running through your body with the light touch. 

Heeseung took your reaction of not backing off as a green sign, so he jumped off of his seat to place himself between your legs, your sweet perfume intoxicating him as he looked up at you. Instead of going for a kiss as you expected him to do, he gulped and just hugged you by the waist, his face resting on your chest as you heard him taking a deep, long breath. 

Your confused self tried to go with the flow, awkwardly caressing his dark hair, hugging him back. You didn’t understand what he was aiming for, and neither did he, to be honest. He suddenly felt so nervous he forgot how to act, and he realized your presence calmed him down so a hug looked just as right as a kiss.

However, you now were the one growing impatient. “Hee?” You called by his nickname, to which he answered with a muffled “Hm?”, loving the way it sounded in your voice.

“Do you want me to get down so we can kiss?” You audaciously asked, ignoring how hot your cheeks felt right after.

“Please,” he whispered as he parted away from you just to help you to get down, his hand rushing to grab you by the waist while the other cupped your cheek, every touch, every eye contact being so genuinely gentle. 

Your fingers traced up from Heeseung’s chest until they reached his nape to scratch the area at the same time you pulled him closer, and closer. His stomach did a flip with how much he was needing you, so it took no time for him to close the distance between you two, lightly shocking his lips on yours.

The first touch was tender, hesitant, as if you both were testing it out. You moved to grab his bottom lip with yours, your breath hitching a little, shivers of anticipation going all over your skin when Heeseung tilted your head to the side so he could deepen the kiss.

Heeseung hummed against your mouth when he finally tasted you, his tongue brushing yours and sending him instantly to heaven; he immediately tangled his fingers on your hair to pull you near, eagerly wanting more and more of you, before sliding the same hand to your waist, pushing your body to lean it on the wall, pressing his own on your’s.

You two shared an intense desire for connection, once fed by days, weeks only by the tension of your imagination, of ‘how it could be’ or ‘happen’. Now that longing no longer occupied just your minds, becoming reality the more your bodies attracted each other with every touch, discovering new places, new pleasures, new cravings.

Heeseung didn’t know he would yearn you even more after getting a taste of you, and God, you were so addicting. 

At some point you broke the kiss to catch your breath, Heeseung’s fingers exploring your body with a perfect blend of desire and respect, as if he was still waiting for the moment you would ask for a stop although he couldn’t resist to feel every piece of you. Fortunately for him, you were far from wanting him to halter his movements, his lips on yours making wonders on your system, your body feeling like melting for how amazing it felt to have him that intimately. 

Heeseung’s eyes searched for yours, his now darkened gaze made your stomach flutter, your skin tingling from desire. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered on your lips, brushing them slightly. You simply shook your head, capturing his plump-kissed lips again, holding him even closer.

This kiss started urgently, even with Heeseung trying to keep it slow. Your pulse was fast, you needed him more than anything and your whole body was on fire. You could feel Heeseung going through the same, his skin smooth and warm under your hands as you boldly slipped one of them under his loosen shirt to access his back from his neck, mildly scratching the area just to receive a groan as a response.

“Fuck,” he pressed his body flush against yours even more if that was possible, his mouth travelling away from yours to spread hot kisses and small bites all over your jawline and neck.

Naturally your head was thrown back to give him more access to that area, now being your time to moan as an answer. When you paid close attention to every area of yours that was being touched by Heeseung, you noticed his hardened bulge pressing your body and let out a little gasp.

The recognition of you wanting him as much as he yearned you had awakened something inside of Heeseung, making his head lose control and focus on only one thing: you. 

Heeseung was craving you like an animal. 

And his way of showing that was slowing down his kisses, his hands audaciously squeezing your ass, sliding through your body with a mastery it took your breath away. Hesseung was a fucking good kisser, working his tongue on yours just the right enough to make your legs wobbly.

But then you became too aware of everything that was happening and your mind activated all the insecurity thoughts you once had for knowing that the makeout session would never just end there.

When Heeseung tried to kiss you again, you used your hands to lightly push him away and avoided his lips, both of you panting.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked you with confused, puppy eyes. Your heart shattered instantly. 

“No, you’d never,” you kindly caressed his face. “I’m just– I…” You opened and closed your mouth, trying to find words that would not make you sound too off or that would make Heeseung slip away from you, but none seemed right. 

“Y/N, it’s fine, yeah?” He caressed your hips and then your right cheek, pecking your lips sweetly with a gentle smile. His dick in his pants painfully reminded him of how much he was in need of your body, nonetheless he would never force you to do anything, and just the kisses you shared was enough to make his whole year worth. With that in mind, he kissed your left cheek before saying, “Let me take you home, how does that sound?”

You smiled, even with the urge of crying knocking on your door so closely, the bittersweet taste replacing Heeseung’s in your mouth as you gulped it down your throat, damning yourself for being such an overthinked, insecure person that was too afraid of going all the way for God’s knows why. 

“Sounds great, Hee.”

As your usual response after any encounter involving men and the possibility of intimacy, you tried desperately to escape from meeting Heeseung. You would die to kiss him again, and again, and again… But at the same time, Heeseung wasn’t the type of guy who would stop at just kissing and you got a bit of the taste of that – your whole body was on fire just remembering his firm length pressing against your body, the little sounds he let out through the kiss, his hands pulling you closer and closer… And then you freaked out. As always.

Little did you know that Heeseung grew so obsessed with you and your intimate touch that night, that the mere thought of kissing you again consumed his mind just as much as you already captivated every corner of his head before.

The ghost of your lips lingered on his, haunted Heeseung’s memory, making him crave even more of whatever you would be willing to give to him, he would take anything at this point. 

Heeseung noticed you vanished from your obvious encounters, not only by missing the basketball game’s practice, but weirdly not hanging out with your own friends. The possibility of you avoiding him made his heart pound in a mild, strange pain, as he didn’t know the reason behind and simply deduced he did something wrong, like crossed your boundaries or anything similar. He couldn’t live with himself if that was the case and in order to correct that, he needed to see you and properly apologize.

“Do you think I’ve fucked up?” Heeseung was now in Jay's room to vent out his concerns about you, pacing back and forth. Jay was still half-asleep, barely knowing his own name let alone able to deal with Heeseung’s situation.

Fortunately for Heeseung, one of the perks of having a long-time friend is that the said friend would be open to hear you whenever and for whatever reason. 

“What do you mean?” Jay’s voice sounded groggy as he squinted his eyes to face the bright light coming through the window before searching for Heeseung in his room.

“She’s been ignoring me, like literally ignoring my texts and avoiding me,” Heeseung explained, fingers messing his hair nervously. 

Jay let out a deep sigh with a yawn while he sat straight on his bed, running his hand on his hair to try to make it as presentable as possible. “Have you thought about the possibility that she’s, I don’t know, going through something?”

“And how do I fix this?” Heeseung looked at his friend with a hint of desperation. 

“You have to let her deal with her stuff first, Hee.” Jay tried to sound as much as compassionate as he could, watching Heeseung taking the seat beside him on the bed. Jay patted his back. “I don’t think it’s up to you, at all.” 

“I know, it’s just frustrating. I want her so bad, bro,” Heeseung rested his elbows on his legs and buried his face in his hands.

“Yeah, never seen you so down for a girl like that,” Jay huffed a little chuckle, amazed by his friend’s behavior. 

“How can I not be? She’s so pretty, and we have such a good connection, and, God, her lips taste like honey. Like, her touches are so ligh–”

“Ok, enough,” Jay rushed to cut off Heeseung’s possible one hour speech about you, and now that you both shared an intimate moment, Jay was one hundred percent sure he didn’t need to hear such vivid details about it that early in the morning. “Let her do her thing, I’m sure she’ll eventually reach for you, bro.”

“I hope so.”

You weren’t too different from Heeseung though, feeling completely frustrated and in anguish. 

You got your panties dampened in arousal just by having Heeseung touching and feeling you the way he did, and he would not leave your thoughts alone for no second during your days, making it difficult to go through your classes and to focus on your studies without your foots nervously tapping the floor, while biting and licking your lips due to your imagination flying by uncountable scenarios. 

All of them with the same outcome: you panicking and leaving him hanging.

“Spill it out,” Sunoo surprised you by hugging you from behind while you waited in the line to order you a coffee.

“God Damn it, Sunoo!” You slapped his arm, hearing him laughing at you. “Why do you always do this?” Your question sounded like a whine. He poked your sides before letting you go from the hug. 

“It’s funny how reactive you always are,” he teased with a smirk. “Order one for me, babe. I’ll pick us a table,” Sunoo said simply, as he started to move away from you. 

“But–”

“No but’s!” He called out already far from you. “I can see your frown from a mile away and I’ve known you long enough to know you’re doing what you like to do the most.”

Your flabbergasted expression was the only thing Sunoo saw before heading to a table on the corner of the store waiting for you to pick the both of you a coffee and head to share the seat with him. 

“I kissed him.” You blurted out as soon as you sat, eyes expressing a mix of despair and excitement. Sunoo opened his mouth in a perfect ‘oh’ that silently asked you to explain it better. “So I went to that party,” Sunoo nodded for you to keep going. “And I was dancing with one of his friends, and then he stepped in and we danced together. You know I don’t usually socialize alone that much, so I was feeling drained already,” Sunoo eyes were sparkling in interest, he loved a good little love story. “Heeseung led me to the backyard, and we chatted for a bit, he made sure that I knew his reputation was all talk,” you chuckled, remembering how anxious he looked trying to explain himself. “And now that I know this, it makes total sense. I never really saw him doing anything too explicit in public, so…”

“Ok, babe. I got that part,” Sunoo rushed you. Normally he would listen to every single word you were saying in order to fully help you, but he was so invested in getting to the point he couldn’t help his impatience. 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Well, we had a little moment y’know and then we kissed, very cute and all that jazz. Until the things… shifted a bit,” your cheeks blushed.

“Oh?” Sunoo's eyes grew wide just like his smile. “Did you..?”

“No! I didn’t,” you pouted. “That's the thing. I freaked out. As I always do. And now I’m even more desperate than before, because I got to taste what he can offer me and I want more, but I’m so, so, so afraid,” you whined, almost crying as the words came out of your mouth without you caring if it made sense or not.

Sunoo sighed, his orbs now filled with reassurance as he held both of your hands. “Did he force you to do anything?” You shook your head. “He stopped when you asked him to?” You nodded. “Then I don’t think you have to be scared of anything, Y/N,” you were about to interrupt him, but he kept on talking. “Listen, if Heeseung is into you the way it looks, he’ll respect your boundaries and wait for your consentment. And if he tries something funny, y’know I’ve got your back. I can punch really hard if I need to.”

You chuckled at his wording, knowing that was actually the truth. You were blessed to have someone like Sunoo in your life. “Thank you, Sunny,” you said sincerely. “I’m very grateful for having you.”

“No need to thank me, sweetie,” he kissed the back of your hand, before clapping his and saying excitedly. “Now let’s work on a plan of how you can relax and finally get that dick.”

“Sunoo!” You exclaimed, exasperated, and your friend's loud laugh was the only response you got.

“See you tomorrow, captain.”

You leaned your back against the wall near the door, watching a group of guys walk out of the locker room, some of them narrowing their eyes at you to which you pretended not to see, fakely paying attention to your phone, hoping none of them would stop to talk to you. You had one person in mind only.

“Oh? What are you doing here?”

And it was definitely not Jake.

“Oh, hey,” you smiled awkwardly, pushing your body away from the wall to face Jake. Your eyes darted over his shoulder, scanning if someone was coming after him just before you turned away from the door. “I’m wai–”

“Y/N?”

Your blood ran cold at the sound of your name being called by the voice you only heard in your dreams for the past few days. You tried to swallow down your tension and your shivers, barely registering Jake stepping away from you two to give the space you both needed.

Your body slowly turned to face Heeseung. His hair was wet, and he had a flustered, tired face from the game, a backpack hanging loose from his shoulder, and a small towel on his hands that he was using to dry off the water from his recent shower. His cherry-red lips were slightly parted, and his heavy breathing made your stomach and heart fluttered.

What a fucking vision, you almost whispered.

He had a blend of surprise, happiness and worry in his expression, which softened right after you showed him a small smile, your voice sounding as sweet as honey. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he mimicked your kind tone, his lips curving into a smile as well. He observed your adorable reddened cheeks and your big doe eyes staring at him, filled with expectation. “How are you?” He tried to sound casual, but his voice came out so obviously holding back his desperation.

His heart was racing fast, a genuine wave of joy and relief running through his body. You had no right to show up looking so damn cute and expect him to act normal, as if he wasn’t missing you like crazy.

“I’m good,” you replied softly.

Heeseung nodded, never breaking eye contact. You tried hard to figure out what was left unspoken through his intense, yet tender gaze; your skin aching, yearning for his warm touch just one more time, just like that night, just as a reminder of how good it felt, just so you could bring to reality everything that went through your thoughts since the last kiss.

You really wished Heeseung were feeling the same way, or at least something close to it, otherwise you weren’t sure if you could deal with rejection after you struggled to gather all your courage to encounter him.

The tension in the air was suffocating you a bit, the endless silence was killing you inside, nevertheless you couldn’t find the right words to start anything coherent. Gladly Heeseung perceived your body reacting to the strange atmosphere between you two, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable or to make things weird in your little relationship.

So he took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours as he bit his bottom lip.

“I’ve missed you,” he confessed without realizing he just did, voice quiet, almost like a whisper. You watched his eyes growing subtly wide before you drifted away from them.

Your heart skipped a beat, your cheeks heating up and your hands trembling with the unexpected confession. “I’ve missed you too, Hee.” You admitted looking at the floor, unable to keep looking at the eyes that showed you too much affection right now.

The desire once never forgotten grew stronger inside Heeseung’s chest, he needed you more than anything. His hand reached out for yours, the light brush of your skins sending chills through your spine and taking your breath away.

“Can we talk?” He asked softly, relief running on his body when you held his hand back. 

“Yeah, we can,” you nodded, now looking up, not containing your smile as soon as you met his face all lightened up.

“Okay,” he left out a little chuckle, too happy for his own good. “But not here.”

Heeseung and you walked out of the building together, his hands’ grip tight on yours as you simply followed his lead. Your brain was spinning inside your head with the amount of thoughts going on.

You didn’t know what to expect the conversation to be, let alone what he would do with you – or what you would do with him. The anticipation was eating you alive, and you thanked God when he stopped in the private area of the campus’ parking lot, guiding you to stand in front of him while he leaned his back on the wall.

“I was not joking when I said I’ve missed you,” he started, now holding both of your hands. You took a step closer, so you could show that you weren’t lying either. “I have to ask, though. Did I–”

You interrupted before he could even start the question, because from the little you knew about Heeseung, he was going to blame himself.

“I’m sorry for my reaction that night. I– I think I was a bit overwhelmed,” you explained, focusing the drawings on his shirt to avert his eyes. “I really enjoyed kissing you, God, you have no idea,” you said with a soft laugh. “But I freaked out,” you gulped. “I freaked out because I’ve never–” Your cheeks were burning like fire due to your embarrassment, your words stuck on your throat. Heeseung gently squeezed your hands in a reassuring way, leaning a bit forward to search for your eyes. You finally looked up at him.

“I’ve– I’ve never gone further kissing someone,” your voice came out as an unsteady, low whisper, while you quickly avoided Heeseung’s gaze again. 

But he made sure you would be looking right at his eyes when he said his next words, tilting your chin up with his finger.

“I’m sorry if I put any pressure on you, angel,” and he was so, so tender to you.

His hand left yours to caress your face with a softness that almost made you melt, automatically leaning into the touch. The new nickname sent a flutter through your stomach. 

“No,” you hurried to say, shaking your head. “You didn’t. It’s just… Me. Me being an insecure mess, I guess,” you laughed awkwardly. 

“Hey, you’re not a mess,” he now held your face between his large hands, forcing you to maintain eye contact. “I loved kissing you, baby. Would love to do more than that,” he smirked, not only showing his desire, but also his understanding. His words and his actions worked in a perfect sync to make your body instantly react, the pulsing sensation between your legs showing how much you were affected by him. “But I would never force you to do anything.” He released your face, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before his hands rested on your waist in a comforting manner. “Would it help if we talked through your insecurities?”

Heeseung was an angel, you realized. A perfect blend of a compassionate angel and a devil who fed your deepest fantasies.

You blinked twice to process his offer, not once in your life imagining you would meet someone willing to hear you so openly.

“Are you sure?” You asked, hesitantly placing your hands on his shoulders.

His lips curved into a mischievous, shameless smirk. The so known cocky, flirty aura making its appearance just to falter right away, as if he remembered it wasn’t the moment to act like that. You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side when he vacillated to speak.

“Now you have to say exactly what you’re thinking.” You said firmly.

“I don’t think I sho–”

“Lee Heeseung,” your voice was serious and he sighed defeated.

“Okay, okay,” he locked his eyes on yours, a hint of playfulness and craving mixed, causing your heartbeat to increase. “Yes, I’m sure I wanna hear what you’re insecure about, Y/N,” he leaned in closer, just to murmur. “I have to know what I’ll be fucking out of you.”

Your eyes grew wide with his sincerity. Yes, you did ask, but fuck, how does one say something so casually? Your whole face was burning with fluster, your flabbergasted expression was as clear as crystal water, your brain stopped working properly and you had no fucking idea of what to say or do. 

“I’m sorr–”

But for some reason, shutting Heeseung up with a kiss sounded right.

Your lips shocked against his with a passion you never felt before. Heeseung’s words, the way he touched you, how his body reacted at the simple act of kissing you and having your hands discovering places on his body – everything made you feel secure and desired, the right mix to make it work on you.

Heeseung made his way through your shell, placing himself right before your insecurities and little by little, without doing much, he was helping you get over them.

Heeseung shamelessly moaned against your mouth when you bit his bottom lip, sucking it before coming back with your tongue hungrily searching for his, your heavy breaths mingling while you both devoured the kiss with vigor.

You parted away to speak, your voice sounding low and too sensual for Heeseung’s health. “I hope you’re loyal to your words, Heeseung.”

He took in your now darkened, full of lust, eyes and your swollen, glistened lips due to the urgent kiss you just shared. The view alone made him go insane.

“Oh, I am,” he murmured, voice deep and husky, his cocky grin making him look even hotter. He gripped your waist tightly and maneuvered your both so he could press you against the wall, placing his lips on your ear to spread a few kisses before saying, “I’m a man of my word, Y/N. And I’m gonna make sure you never doubt yourself ever again.”

You let out a small gasp and then a little whine, your lips parting and your eyes hooded as you relaxed your body, ignoring your mind screaming at you to run away, replacing the anxiety with the craving you cherished for God’s know how long. 

“I want to hear every single thought that is holding you back, and then, I’m gonna make you forget about all of them,” Heeseung’s breath was hot against your skin, just like his lips, biting, sucking, kissing every area he had at his disposal. 

“Is that a promise?” You decided to play with him on his game, knowing you had no chance against the player anyway. Nonetheless, the foreign feeling growing inside you made words come out of your mouth without you really thinking about them, and it was so fucking good.

“Yes, angel. It is a promise,” Heeseung halted his intense diving into your neck to look deep into your eyes. “But I can’t take your virginity here, in a public parking lot.”

Normally you would fumble into a chain of embarrassment and nervousness with your intimacy being said that openly. However, Heeseung managed to word it in a totally different way. His voice was low, sultry, filled with a raw desire that made you realize he still wanted you, even after you admitted inexperience. Heeseung ignited an intense fire in you.

And then you remembered. You lived in a dorm. “Don’t get me wrong,” your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling it back a little. “But I can’t take you to mine.”

His forehead rested on yours while he chuckled, a bit disappointed. But not on you. “Yeah… I can’t take you to mine, as well. Not today, though.”

“So…” You blinked innocently, not knowing exactly what to say or do. 

“We’re not finished yet, angel.”

Unfortunately for you, you realized that what made you so confident and down to go all the way with Heeseung was the fact he was with you, his smooth foreplay skillfully easing your body to relax and enjoy instead of overthinking. 

His kisses helped you to forget your concerns and his hands guided you in a way you didn’t have to worry about what to do, not to mention the fact that he was willing to have sex with you even after you shared your insecurities with him. 

When you two realized that it wasn’t going to happen that day, the heat went down and you both decided to sit in Heeseung's car to share some more kisses while chatting.

Heeseung always reassuring you through his caring – and hot – touches, listening to every word of yours with compassion dripping out of his eyes, understanding and explaining openly to you about what you were curious about.

You didn’t really open up about everything as you usually do with a friend like Sunoo, partly because you believed it would work as a huge turn off and Heeseung would leave you. But also because you recognized that a lot of your thoughts were beyond your control, like the shape or size of your breasts and other similar things.

Heeseung made sure you understood that besides anything, he would find you sexy no matter what, which made you blush and hide your face on his chest while he laughed at your reaction, but it also made you believe his words and feel more confident about sex. 

Nevertheless, through a whole week, a bunch of “do you wanna come over?” texts were dismissed with a lame excuse from you. As said before, his kisses made you ease your mind, and answering such an important question like that without having his mouth working on yours to make you forget about your messy mind, was damn difficult. 

What you didn’t know is that Heeseung wasn’t actually planning to have sex with you the times he invited you. He literally just wanted to hang out. Of course he aimed to kiss you eventually, however his main objective was to make you comfortable with him being around, touching you in places you never got to be touched before, making sure you knew how much he craved your body, how much he wanted you, and that you were safe.

It was a busy week, afterall, full of heavy practices because the final game was getting closer and your presence on the bleachers was one thing that didn’t stop happening this time.

You avoided being alone with Heeseung as much as you could, but your lips always missed him, so you had to make the tremendous effort of watching him in every practice. 

“He’s so good,” Julie whispered close to your ear, startling you.

“Who?” You asked confused.

“Your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you rushed to reply with your cheeks already gaining some color. 

“Cut that off, he’s head over heels for you, girl,” Yunjin pointed out on your other side. “It’s almost annoying.”

“Yeah, and you always have this weird look in your eyes whenever you see him,” Julie nudged you with her shoulder. “Like you’re always wanting him so bad,” she said with a forced sensual voice. “I bet the sex is amazing.”

“I don’t think you should be talking about Y/N’s sexual lif–” Sunoo tried to interrupt the subject, noticing your discomfort for being smashed between two – sometimes – very indecent girls. 

“No, but like. She never talks about it. I’m so curious,” Julie whined. “They say the quiet ones are the worst.”

The whistle indicating the last quarter of the practice was over and you jumped out of your seat, running down the stairs to meet Heeseung, not only to be with him but mostly to avoid Julie and Yunjin's inconvenient questions.

You didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell them about anything sex related, since they both were very sexually active and their actions seemed a bit off whenever you became the topic of the conversation. 

“What’s with the hurry, baby?” Heeseung smiled big while hugging you when you jumped on his arms, caring little to nothing about his sweat sticking to your skin. 

“Missed you,” you said muffled against his neck, your heart beating fast while you felt him moving you to walk on your back, still clinging onto him.

He stopped walking at some point and you let go of him.

“I gotta take a shower. I’m getting you all dirty, angel,” your cheeks burned with how you interpreted his words, widened eyes as you looked at him. Heeseung noticed it. “Hey, you dirty minded girl, I’m talking about my sweat on you,” he sneaked his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him to walk with you towards the locker room. 

“I don’t think your explanation makes it less worse.”

He laughed out loud, throwing his head back with your audacious phrase, and typically you would find it endearing how he looked so handsome smiling big. This time you paid more attention to his neck and how his Adam’s apple seemed more attractive than ever. His sweat dripping out of his honeyed skin was doing no good to you as well, messing with your head, filling it with horny thoughts.

When you arrived, you patiently waited for Heeseung outside the locker room, greeting a few team’s members you’ve come to know, since it’s become a routine for you to be around.

You were playing on your phone when he left the room, glancing at you with a pretty smile and offering you his hand.

You two walked your way to the parking lot, a common everyday thing you started doing after the days he had practice. Oftenly you would be in his car for a few minutes, sharing caresses and sweet talks, before he drove you to your dorm. 

“Will you watch me tomorrow?” He asked with sparkly, expectant eyes, swinging your arms.

“Of course I will, Captain,” you looked at his side profile. “Don’t forget, I’m the team’s lucky charm,” you winked playfully at him, remembering one of your firsts dialogues alone you shared. 

“Yeah,” he stopped walking to pull you closer by the waist, his voice softened. “And I don’t know what to do without you,” his eyes glazed on yours for a while, dripping affection.

It took just a second for his lips to find its home on yours, kissing you slow and sweet, enjoying every bit of your addicting taste.

He parted with a little smack sound, pecking your lips a few times. Your breath hitched with his tender touch. He held your hand again so you could keep walking. 

“The coach was afraid of me dating you, he said you could be a distraction to me and bla-bla-bla,” he huffed a laugh, you, on the other hand, froze. Dating? “Little did he know you’re the main reason I have a good performance. I need to impress my girl.”

You had a very shocking expression on your face when Heeseung looked at you to see why you went quietly suddenly. You stopped on your tracks and turned to him, lips parted as you blinked without saying a thing. 

“What?” Heeseung cocked his head, his bambi, confused eyes shined, trying to read you.

“We’re dating?”

“Oh,” he scratched the back of his head nervously. “I never asked yo–”

“You never asked me–” You both said at the same time and stopped, also at the same time. 

Heeseung cleared his throat and with a deep breath he rested his eyes on yours, automatically smiling.

“Well, if you’re okay with it, I’d love to call what we have dating.” He said adorably with his hand squeezing yours, “I just assumed we were on the same page, but I’m okay if you don’t want to define it or wanna talk about it more. I’m always all ears for you, Y/N.” He leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I mean, I just wanna be with you, and if you are fine with me calling you my girlfriend, then I’d be more than happy to call you that.”

All his words sounded like babbling to you, because that moment, in the middle of the parking lot, you heart skipped a beat as you realized you were so fucking in love with Lee Heeseung. 

You were sure you had heart eyes while staring at his anticipating expression, and you couldn’t care less. You pushed yourself forward so you could kiss him passionately, his hands coming to hold you by your jawline, moving so slowly, so lovingly, so sincerely.

It was a different kiss, it was a love kiss, a confessional kiss, a kiss you only were able to have because of its genuine intentions. 

“I’d love to call you my boyfriend, Hee,” you whispered against his mouth, smiling brightly as he shared the same expression, the same emotion.

As intense as a final game normally is, you couldn’t help but tap your feet on the ground, to the point of you standing up to pace back and forth. The rival university was ten points ahead in the fourth quarter and the minutes were ticking down.

You could see Heeseung's tensed body from afar, the seat you had helping nothing with the view of the game – you took advantage of being the captain's girlfriend to ask to watch the game from up close. But it was your worst decision so far, because you barely saw anything. 

The tension was palpable in the air, your breath caught in your throat at every pass. Your university team managed to close the gap at some point, and when you looked at the clock, the 10 seconds countdown was shining.

Your heart dropped when you saw Heeseung’s bold move of stealing the ball from one of the opposing team member, the crowd yelling as he sprinted down the court, for a fraction of seconds you catched his glance at you, before he focused fully in dribbling whoever entered his way, and then he launched himself into the air, his perfect form aiming directly for the three point line. 

Everything became slow motion as you watched the ball going straight through the hoop, the whole gym exploding with loud cheers as you yourself jumped and hugged whoever were near you with a big smile.

The whole team crowded Heeseung to celebrate, everyone of them shining big smiles but you paid attention to only one. And the said one was searching for you in the sidelines. He broke free from them to jog to you, who also was running in his direction. You jumped on his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and he swirled you while screaming excitedly. “We did it!” 

“You did it, Hee. I knew you could do it.” You answered as happily as him, laughing with joy and tightening the hug. 

Heeseung softly landed you on the ground, his eyes gleaming with his victory. He cupped your face with his large hands, pulling you into an eagerly sweet kiss, no trophy topping the feeling of having you like that.

The cheers grew louder as everyone watched the romantic scene, however nothing seemed real around you two, lost in the bubble you’ve created. “I did it for you, angel,” he murmured against your lips, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I told you before. I have to impress my girl,” and then he kissed you again, your smiles you shared mingling between breaths and small pecks, before he hugged you tightly one more time.

The celebration went for a while. From afar, you observed Heeseung being surrounded by his friends and teammates, getting praised for his skills and how well he did that match. 

You watched from afar how bright and full of joy Heeseung was, his whole face glowing, surrounded by his friends and teammates, celebrating the win, getting showered with praise by everyone. There was a faint blush on his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but remember all the times he got flustered by your compliments, his shy smile in contrast with his darkened eyes, as if your words woke something inside him. You made a mental note to take a little advantage of that later on. 

“The guys left the house for me tonight,” Heeseung murmured as he finally approached you, already outside the building, placing his hands on your waist while yours naturally settled on his shoulders. His voice dropped to a tone only you knew the meaning of.

Instantly, your heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah?” Your voice came out low.

You took in every detail of his beautiful face, his demeanor softened since a big part of the adrenaline had left his body by now. Despite that, his eyes still sparkled with adoration and a hint of desire. Heeseung licked his lips, sucking his lower one while shifting his gaze between your mouth and your adorable, innocent, yet lustful eyes. 

“Yeah,” he mildly nodded, leaning in closer, but he unfortunately got interrupted by a voice you recognized immediately. Your eyes grew wide.

“Look at you two!” Julie squealed with a smile, clapping excitedly. “You did amazing, Heeseung.” She complimented your boyfriend giving two thumbs up, and you tried to hide your embarrassment by tilting your head towards Heeseung’s chest, who hugged you sideways. 

Yunjin, who was with Julie, nodded in agreement, also smiling. “Yeah, that last point was incredible,” she added, giving your shoulder a teasing nudge to whisper closer to you. “I bet you’re dying to get out of here, huh?”

“Thank you,” Heeseung said with a smile, while you gave an awkward grin in response to Yunjin.

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Julie said with a wink. “Looks like someone’s eager for some private time.” With a final ‘goodbye’ and ‘good luck,’ Julie and Yunjin left, leaving you with an astonished, shy expression, and Heeseung with a contained mischievous grin. 

“I’m sorry about them,” you whispered, watching them go before searching for Heeseung’s eyes just to see them already glancing playfully at you.

“Are they lying, though?” Heeseung asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

You smacked his chest, unable to give a proper response as you buried your face on his neck, muffling a quiet “Stop,” while he hugged you and let it out a precious laugh.

“But… Can I take you to my place today?” His question sounded a bit hesitant, still sweet as honey, while his fingers gently caressed your back. “We don’t have to do anything, I just wanna be with you,” he added with kind eyes after you released yourself from his embrace to face him.

You nodded, “You can,” and offered him a small, genuine smile, making him lose control with your beauty and cuteness and kiss you before heading to his car with you.

The drive was calm, nonetheless your body was pretty tense on the car seat. Your brain was spinning with that night’s outcome. While you had an intense desire to finally have Heeseung the way you dreamed of, you couldn’t help but feel anxious about it too.

You craved his body, his touches, his lips, overall, him. And he had demonstrated to be a good guy so far. Heeseung respected your boundaries, always making sure you felt comfortable even with the minimal invasive touches, like when he tried to touch under your skirt one day and you startled in response.

He murmured a billion “I’m sorry’s” after the episode, and that alone had your heart fluttering in passion, allowing him to slide his bold touches wherever he wanted to, but never further enough to have you fully.

You gulped down your nervousness, looking at Heeseung’s side profile illuminated by the night lights – his honeyed skin was glowing, his black hair messy with sweat, some strands of hair sticking on his exposed forehead, his perfect nose and kissable lips, everything made you dive into your dirtiest thoughts.

You only noticed you arrived at his house when he broke the silence by announcing it, opening the door for you and grabbing your hands instantly as he led you inside the house all the way to his room.

“Imma take a quick shower, okay?” You nodded. “Make yourself comfortable. Don’t be shy.” He pecked your lips before heading to his bathroom.

You sat on the edge of his bed, analyzing how simple his room seemed to be – just the right amount of things he needed to have, like a wardrobe, a big bed and his gamer computer setup. Being in one’s room, for you, always felt like an act of intimacy itself. 

You were in the same place he changed clothes, he listened to his favorite music, he played his favorite games, he studied… And the same place he touched himself, he had sex with other persons, he had wet dreams…

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, fidgeting your fingers even faster. Your panties got slightly dampened and your body overheated just by thinking of how close you were to Heeseung right now, although you didn’t even had him in your sight.

The sound of the shower turning off indicating he was done showering had your stomach fluttering because he was about to come out of the bathroom, and not a single soul in the earth had you prepared to face his upper body in full display to you – his toned chest, a bit red because of the hot water, being accentuated by a subtle abs, his arms muscles contracting as he dried off his hair.

Heeseung’s boxers peeked through the hem of his sweatshorts, and you swore to God you saw a single droplet of water running all the way down in his beautiful, hot, tanned skin, stopping on his V-line. 

“Are you hungry?” Heeseung’s voice broke you out of your trance, finally making you stare at his face instead of his body. He didn’t deny that your voracious eyes eating him alive sent signals directly to his dick, making it twitch inside his clothes. He watched you blink two, three, four times with an unreadable expression, making him frown. “Y/N?”

“Y–yeah?” You snapped out of your imagination of kissing, licking, sucking every part of his body, feeling his skin through your lips. Your mouth watered, but not because of hunger for food. 

“Do you wanna order a delivery or something?” Heeseung cocked his head, shamelessly checking you out as well. If you had the right to devour him with your intense gaze, he had it too, undressing you with his eyes while biting his bottom lip. 

Your skirt was placed gently on your thighs, your tight crop top evidenced your breast and a little part of your belly was being shown, all too tempting to him, eager to see more of your body.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on anything but your desire of having Heeseung fucking you, failling disastrously. “Um, sure. Sounds good,” you managed to say, your voice clearly trembling as your breath got stuck in your airways.

You had to contain a whimper when Heeseung took a step closer, his towel now hanging in his shoulders as he towered you, lifting your head with two fingers holding your chin.

“What do you wanna eat, angel?” He questioned, and he was definitely not talking about food anymore at this point.

You felt the heat increase in your stomach, your body shivering with his light, warm touch, acting like it was in withdrawal of whatever he could give you. And you wished so hard for him to offer you everything. 

“I– I don’t know,” you murmured, blinking slowly, parted lips letting out your hitched breath. “What’s your suggestion?” You forced yourself to take a glance at his look, gasping slightly with how he had shifted to an almost breathtaking lascivious one, slightly hooded, serious and attractive just the right amount to make you squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

“I’m afraid my suggestion does not involve food, my love.” Heeseung’s voice dropped a few tones as he bended forward to lean closer, inches away from you, his warm air brushing against your face, his gaze savoring every single one of your reactions.

“What–” You bit your lip. “What does it involve, then?” You asked under breath, a burn sensation taking place on your cheeks as Heeseung’s grin grew. Your pulse increased in the silent, yet full of unspoken desires, room. 

“Well,” he murmured, eyes almost closing as he got closer and closer, lips now touching lightly yours, as he said “I might have to show you. Would you let me?”

Your answer came through actions, your hands quickly took place on his neck and pulled him down to you, tossing the towel to the floor while your mouth chased for his’, desperate for a kiss. It took Heeseung just seconds to react to your intensity, kindly pushing you to lay down on the bed as you tried to keep your lips occupied while moving upwards in a comfortable position; Heeseung crawling on the mattress, never daring to break out the touch.

His fingers dug into your waist while his other arm supported his weight, grinding slowly against your body, pressing his hardened cock on your clothed cunt in order to get any friction he could. A moan escaped your lips, muffled by the kiss, as the heat between your bodies intensified, the thought of causing that reaction in Heeseung making you feel even hotter, more impatient, more desperate for anything he was giving you.

His mouth was working wonders – hot, skilled, passionate as he sucked your tongue, his little groans getting lost in the middle of the kiss. At the same time your fingers brushed his naked chest, his hands infiltrated under your shirt, and your body instantly reacted to the feel of his warm and smooth skin on yours.

Though Heeseung had waited for what felt like ages to have you underneath him like that, he was aware of your insecurities and the fact that it was your first time. Despite how your body responded to his touch, he knew that taking it slow was the right choice, so he made sure you felt safe and cherished as he savored every second. 

Heeseung unhurried his movements, gently parting the kiss to catch his breath and taking the opportunity to enjoy the view – your parted, glistened and swollen-kissed lips, your hooded eyes, hiding your lust behind them, but showing him adoration. He smiled, placing a sweet, tender kiss on your jawline, downing to your neck and collarbone, getting drunk on your scent with his lips trailing kind and lascivious touches on your skin.

You grabbed his hair with your hands, pulling Heeseung even closer to your body – as if it was possible – in a way of distracting the anxiety building up on your core. But then you pushed him away, and he showed you a confused gaze. 

You smiled shyly and moved your hands so you could undress yourself from your shirt and toss it onto the floor, revealing part of your gorgeous body to his eyes, your breasts placed in your black bra attracting his attention.

“You’re beautiful,” Heeseung whispered, filled with sincerity and care, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, the most cherished treasure he ever had, with the perfect mix of desire, eyes dripping the need of having more of you.

His touches were light as he traced his fingers from your waist all the way to your clothed boobs, his eyes never leaving yours, taking in every little reaction, every little sound. He paused to ask tenderly.

“Can I take these off?” And when you nodded and helped him to remove your bra, he smiled, not holding back his delighted sigh at the sight of your pretty and hardened nipples.

You felt exposed and your cheeks flushed with a dark ton of red, you had nowhere to hide so you just let Heeseung adore you, until his mouth placed kisses near your breasts, giving you time to assimilate that new experience.

You couldn’t hold back an audible gasp when his lips brushed your sensitive bud, his hot tongue swirling it to suck right after, not too intense, not too light, just the right amount, as if he knew exactly what to do with your body to make you go insane.

“Hee–” you moaned his name when he drifted away to give the proper attention to your other boob while his hand massaged the already a bit swollen one.

The sound of your voice whining Heeseung’s name sent a wave of electricity all over his body, directly to his neglected dick. While he kept going down with his mouth through your belly until he reached the hem of your skirt, he humped slightly on whatever could give him some friction on his sensitive bulge.

He halted his movements when he achieved your inner thighs to look at you with reassuring eyes and a soft smile.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to,” his lips kissed the area and you tensened your legs, not used to being touched in there. However, if it felt too good and in no world you wanted Heeseung to stop.

“I trust you, Hee.”

And Heeseung couldn’t ask for a better way of you saying what he needed to hear. He kept placing hot kisses on your thighs and you bent your knee, the position giving him the full view of your ruined panties, a pool of arousal making it stick to your cunt, the drawing of your folds making its personal show right in front of his eyes.

Heeseung’s mouth watered. He remembered every time he imagined being buried between your legs and, God, he didn’t know if he would be able to hold himself down on this one.

“Would you be okay if I–” He gulped, searching for your eyes, which were already glancing at his drunk-looking figure with curiosity. You never saw that expression on Heeseung’s face, and for some reason it made your clit pulse, walls clenching around nothing. “If I eat you out? You can say no if you don’t feel comfortable doing it on your first time, but I would appreciat–”

“I meant it when I said I trust you.”

You cut off his ramble for two reasons: one, because you weren’t prepared to hear his speech that would pretty much make you feel even more embarrassed; two, you were desperate for some relieve, your body literally aching in desire to feel your release, and if his hot mouth and tongue felt that good on your skin, you shivered just by the thought of having them on your sensitive area.

“Thank you,” Heeseung sounded really relieved that you accepted his request. “I’ll remove your skirt, is that okay?” He asked softly and you nodded, hands gripping on the sheets without knowing much more what to do.

Heeseung tossed your clothing piece on the floor, and when he was about to prepare himself to dive into your pussy, you grabbed his hair. He instantly stopped what he was doing, his heart did a flip with the thought of you giving up on your words, although he would obey whatever your decision was. 

But when he looked at you, he noticed your shy smile. “Can you remove your shorts too?”

He let out a little chuckle, “Of course,” and stood up to do what you asked so adorably for him to do.

You enjoyed the view of his dick hard inside his, now, tightened boxers. You wondered if he would fit in you, but you didn’t have time to think much of it as he went back to his position, gaze shifting between your clothed cunt and your anxious eyes.

“Are you okay, princess? Remember, you can always ask me to stop.”

“Yes, Hee. I’m okay,” your voice came out between hitched breaths. “Please, do something, it’s hurting,” you pleaded with a little whine, and that was the green sign for Heeseung to sigh and groan by the sight of you, needy of his mouth on your pussy. 

He placed a delicate kiss right on your clothed clit, simply for you to feel comfortable with your area being touched for the first time. Heeseung heard your little moan before losing himself in his mind, distributing hot touches with his lips all over the area. 

He then removed your last piece of cloth, the view of your pussy in full display made him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so, his cock throbbing inside his boxers.

You had your eyes closed, trying to ignore the fact you were very exposed, to focus on the amazing feeling of Heeseung’s hot breath directly where you needed him the most. You moaned when his tongue licked experimentally your folds. 

Heeseung slipped his hands under your legs to hold you in a position he gained a better support and kept you open for him as he worked on your cunt. 

Your sweet taste melted on his mouth as he ate you out willingly, the tip of his nose brushing on your sensitive clit as he skillfully moved his head to stimulate you in as many areas as he could – his tongue teasing to enter in your entrance, the foreign feeling making you squirm in a bit of a discomfort that quickly waved out of your body because of how good your clit being stimulated was making you feel.

It was a mix of sensations you never really felt; you had touched yourself before, but nothing compares to Heeseung’s amazing mouth and tongue licking, sucking and making out with your pussy. You could feel the knot forming on your stomach as you tensed your body. 

“Heeseung,” you moaned a bit loud. “I think I’m close–” 

Heeseung broke out of the trance he got himself into to listen to you, afterall he wanted to take care of you.

“I want you to cum on my mouth, is that okay princess?” He asked between little pecks and licks on your folds and clit. You nodded, not knowing exactly if he was seeing you do so.

“Could you look at me, angel?” He questioned, his voice sounding too sweet to the lustful view he was offering you. Hair stuck on his forehead, nose and chin glistened with your arousal. “There you go,” he smirked before diving again into your pussy, his eyes now never leaving your face, even when you rolled your eyes and threw your head back, trying hard to keep with his request.

Your orgasm hit almost instantly, the mix of his devilish looks and how he ate you so passionately worked together for you to achieve your release in his mouth, Heeseung drinking not only your juices, but all of your moans and whines. 

He left the area after pecking two, three, four times, and then trailed kisses through your body until he reached the corner of your mouth, watching you breathing heavily with a small smile adorning your lips. 

Heeseung decided not to kiss you right away, not only giving you time to recompose but also avoiding you to feel the taste of yourself in his tongue. He loved you for a while, gently brushing his lips on your skin, kissing once and a while, until he felt your hands caressing his hair, tenderly. 

“Are you alright?” Heeseung questioned after a while, searching for your eyes.

“Mhm,” you nodded lazily. However, you knew it wasn’t the end, and mostly, you wanted more. 

“Do you want to stop?” He caressed your face, moving away some strands of your hair. You shook your head, mischievously smiling. You could feel his still clothed dick literally twitching on your leg, and although your last orgasm was intense and you got a bit tired, you needed to have him even closer to you.

“You are hard as hell, Hee,” you giggled, catching his eyes darkening again. “And I need to feel you inside of me,” you looked at his lips before pulling him down to kiss you properly.

As earlier, the urgency of the touch grew faster and faster, and Heeseung had to remind himself once more that he needed to go slow.

He parted the kiss just to ask with a serious voice “Are you sure about this?” 

“More than anything in my life, Hee. I want you,” you gently caressed his cheek, smiling when he pecked your lips before getting on his feet to finally remove his last clothing piece, revealing his whole body to you.

You swallowed when his dick jumped out of his boxers, throbbing, covered in precum, all because of you. You whined with the view, propping yourself up on your elbows when he got closer to your face since he had to get a condom in his nightstand. Your hand automatically rushed to grab his length, peeking up at his face at the right time to catch his face contorted in shock and then, pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, enjoying the warmth of your skin on his neglected, sensitive cock. It was clear you didn’t know exactly what to do, but the movement of going up and down was enough to make Heeseung’s knees weak. He was weak for you, afterall.

Heeseung let you try out whatever crossed your mind and enjoy yourself for a bit, because it meant you were comfortable enough with him to do so, and your endeared and erotic gaze hypnotized him too strongly for him to stop you.

He made sure to moan your name, watching your body reacting to it, trying his best to make you get wet again and make things easier later. He wasn’t faking it, though. Your hands really were doing wonders on his shaft – he watched you positioning yourself to sit on your knees, face with a faint focused frown as you cupped his tip, moving your hand in circles.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, the sensitive area of his dick getting the attention he needed was sending him out of orbit, and you were using just your hands. 

“You– You have to stop,” he said as he gently held your wrist, halting your movements. His closed eyes prevented him from noticing your guilty expression, until he heard your voice.

“Sorry,” you murmured quietly, thinking you have done something wrong.

“No, baby. It’s not– I almost came,” he admitted. You didn’t know simple words could make your body heat that fast, your stomach instantly did a flip with his sincere confession. 

Heeseung’s lips met yours right away, his body leaning forward so you both could go back to the previous position. 

He placed himself in between your open legs, his gaze softening as he watched your anxious face. “I’m going to prepare you,” he explained with a low voice, kissing your neck as his hands went down to find your folds, touching you to collect your arousal and use it to lubricate his finger, “Don’t forget, your word is what guides me.”

Your body fully tensed when he pressed his digit near your entrance, “Relax, my love,” he murmured and kissed your cheek and then your lips. Your heart fluttered with the pet name. “I’ve got you, okay?”

You nodded, closing your eyes tightly, afraid of the pain you were so sure you would feel, however, Heeseung’s light touches on your sensitive area and the kisses he spread over your face got you distracted, almost making you miss when he slid a finger inside you. Your breath got stuck on your throat and he didn’t move, waiting for your body to adjust to the new intruder. 

“I’ve never– I’ve never ever put anything inside me before, so it’s all new,” you admitted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief for verbalizing your discomfort. 

“Yeah? You’re doing great, angel.” Heeseung encouraged, gently pulling his finger out while kissing you. You squirmed, a bit uncomfortable. “Such a good girl for me, mhm?” 

His wording caused you to clench involuntarily around his finger, a reaction that didn’t went unnoticed by Heeseung. He kept kindly pumping his single finger inside you, teasing to add one more as you whined against his mouth, while he whispered sweet words of encouragement.

“You feel so amazing,” Heeseung said, and something popped into his mind. He decided to test the waters with a dirtier talk, his hot breath tickling your ear. “I can’t wait to feel you around me, so tight and wet,” he kissed your earlobe, his husky voice and words making you whole body shiver, “I promise, Y/N, I’ll make you feel so good,” his teeth nibbled your sensitive spot on your neck and you slightly arched your back, moaning, not even noticing when his second finger entered you.

You were panting a bit, messily whining and squirming, your fingers threaded through his hair, gripping it firmly, forcing him into your neck.

“You’re so tight, I don’t think I’ll last long when I get inside you,” Heeseung sounded muffled, loving the way you squeezed even more around his digits. “Can you feel how my fingers stretch you so well, baby?” His question sounded rhetorical to you, because it was obvious you felt the way he stretched you so amazingly good, your toes curling just by that. 

“Hee, please–” You pleaded not quite sure what you were asking for, but your eyes locked onto his with a desperate need. His fingers worked so perfectly inside you, making you wonder how you could be so close to tearing, yearning for his dick, which you never ever had before. 

Heeseung grinned, eyes dripping with desire and fondness, wandering your whole body as he removed his digits from you.

“My baby seems a bit desperate, doesn't she?” He teased, chuckling. You watched as he coated his dick with a condom, jerking it off with the precum he collected before to prepare himself for you, never breaking eye contact. He leaned closer. “Don’t worry, I’m just as desperate as you are, my love,” and with that he positioned his tip in your entrance.

You tensed again, but Heeseung's sharp instincts caught the subtle change in your reaction. To help you relax, he covered one of your nipples with his mouth, warm lips sucking the sensitive area, making you moan. His body pressed into yours distracting you from the pain as well.

“Ah–” you gasped, frowning with a flicker of discomfort as he slid his dick inside you; your hands grabbed his shoulders, squeezing with a certain strength as you tried to get over the burning feeling in your cunt.

Heeseung was on the verge of insanity, his sensitive cock aching with your walls tightening around it, so eager for some more friction. He had to dig self control from the deepest place of his mind in order to keep going. 

“Shh. I’ve got you, my love,” he kissed your wrist, and then your shoulder, and then your neck, and then your cheeks, and finally your lips, while slowly getting himself fully inside of you, moaning as he did so. “You drive me crazy,” he murmured against your lips, loving how messy you were kissing him, your expression changing little by little from a discomfortable to a pleasant one. 

Heeseung remained still for a moment, making out with you while waiting for your body to adjust to his dick. You gently waved your hips forward with a little groan at some point, a silent plea to get more of what he was offering you, and he got the sign immediately. 

With a tender smile and after pressing his lips in yours once more, Heeseung began to move, thrusting into you with a necessary slowness at first, that became unneeded the second you started to feel only the delight of being full.

His tip rubbed a certain spot in you that made you flutter your eyes shut while rolling them, moaning loud.

“You liked that, angel?” He asked, desperate to pound harder and faster onto you, still controlling himself. “Tell me, please,” he looked at your lips parted, his name being the only thing coming out of them.

“Y–yes, Hee. It’s so fucking good– Ah,” you threw your head back in the pillow, his response to your compliment making him thrust deeper. “You feel so good, fuck.”

Needless to say that your praise to Heeseung’s work was enough for him to almost fully lose his inner battle of going easier with you. His head rested beside yours and while his movements grew faster, your voice got louder and louder; your fingernails sinking into the skin of his back, his moan close to your ear making you see stars with the overwhelming feeling. 

“I’m close,” you whispered, feeling the known knot on your stomach growing stronger as Heeseung kept pounding into your g-spot. You opened your eyes to lock eyes with him, who already had positioned himself to do the same – both of you wanting to see each other reaching their respective climax. 

“Come for me, princess,” he demanded with a groan. “Show me how good I’m making you feel.”

The view of Heeseung’s forehead damped in sweat with strand of hairs sticking to it, his parted lips every so often being bit by his teeth while letting out the prettiest sounds and his heavy breaths, his eyes showing your affection, desire, urgency in achieving his own release, and his dirty words, all of it blended together, worked perfectly for you to achieve your orgasm.

A strong wave of desperation and pleasure ran over your body and took you milliseconds to cum all over Heeseung’s dick with a loud moan, your pussy tightening harder around his cock while he drove you through your high at the same time he chased for his own. 

“Fuck,” Heeseung moaned, keeping thrusting faster and faster, a frown of concentration adorning his forehead and then he saw you, pretty face contorted in pleasure, your mouth letting out the hottest moans of his name. You felt his cum filling up the condom inside you the same time he moaned your name, making you hiss while he pumped into you a bit more. Eventually he removed himself from you, flopping into your body, tired. 

You thought you just had hit cloud nine with the amount of joy and excitement running inside you. A sense of realization making you smile brightly. You enjoyed the sound of your respirations working its best to recompose itself and Heeseung’s heartbeats against your chest.

“I have to say,” your voice came out a bit husky as you lovingly caressed Heeseung’s sweaty back. “Now I do accept the food.”

You heard Heeseung chuckle on your neck, before he kissed there and then your lips. “Yeah, me too.”

The morning after your first night together with Heeseung was filled with doubts.

After the sex, you both got cleaned up and ate the said delivery while watching something on the tv.

Obviously Heeseung didn’t let you go back to your dorm, needing to feel your warm embrace as much as possible. So you two slept together on his big bed, cuddling.

But then you woke up earlier than him, and you took your sweet time to appreciate his serene expression, deep in his sleep – his soft breath, his pretty eyelashes, his slightly parted lips. You sighed, a weird feeling eating away you inside, afraid of being left alone after the last night.

What if he said all of that just to have you one time? What if he did all he did just for that moment to happen? What if he didn’t really mean any of his words? What if he didn’t enjoyed it the way you did?

“What’s with the frown?”

You startled with Heeseung’s groggy voice breaking the silence of the room. “Nothing,” you awkwardly smiled and of course Heeseung didn’t buy it.

“Tell me,” he blinked slowly to focus on your pretty face, snuggling his body into yours. “Tell me what’s going on in this pretty head of yours, my love.”

You gulped, heart racing with his new way of calling you. 

Love.

You got lost in your mind for a while before asking “Will you leave me now?” The question came out a bit more stupid than you expected, but at the same time, it was sincere. 

Heeseung propped himself up on his elbow to give you a proper look. He removed the hair from your face with a gentle touch, caressing your cheeks with the same amount of care. His voice sounded low. “No,” he shook his head, eyes full of adoration, endearment, and love. “I’ll not leave you. Actually, I’m even more attached to you, my love,” his, oh, so known smirk tugged the corner of his lips. “I’m not going anywhere, unless you want me to.”

You hurried to shake your head, taking in every detail of his pretty features. 

“Then I’m staying, and I’ll be taking anything you offer to me,” Heeseung kissed your lips in a different way. Slow, tender, filled with this new emotion – love.

You parted the kiss to look into his sparkly eyes, smiling.

“Then I offer you my everything, Heeseung.”

[dollfacefantasy]

dig your claws right into me ♡

logan howlett x fem!reader

logan hurts you when he has a nightmare. now you both have to deal with the fallout.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, descriptions of nightmare, injury, and blood

a/n: reader is a mutant but i didn't specify her powers so you can imagine what you want. just some sickly sweet intimacy cause that's what i was feeling tonight <3

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words come out whispered as Logan's lips press against the three tiny bumps of developing scar tissue on your abdomen.

"I already told you that you don't have to be sorry," you say. Your voice drifts into the space between the two of you as soft as the movements of your fingers running through his hair.

"Well I am, bub. You should want me to be."

Each one of his hands rests upon either side of your waist. His fingers squish against your flesh while his eyes stare at the scars on your belly. He gazes at them like the small marks, all equidistant from one another, could be willed away by his harsh look. He hated the fact that they were there at all. Even worse, that he was the one who gave them to you.

"But it was an accident," you respond, giving one of the tufts of his hair a gentle tug.

His dark pupils flit up to look at your face. "Doesn't matter. It being an accident doesn't change the fact that you're gonna have these marks forever. I wouldn't care that it was accidental if I'd killed you."

He remembers the night it happened that seemed like a real possibility.

His light sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. Over the time that had passed between then and now, it'd become indistinct from all the others he experiences regularly. The only difference between that one and the ones he'd had since he'd started sleeping next to you each night was the intensity. That night had been rough. Normally when he slept in your room, he seemed to be able to tone it down. Almost as if his brain knew to not act up while your relationship was still starting to blossom.

But two weeks ago, his mind didn't care. It flash-banged him with the usual images of himself in that tank. The searing, splitting pain of the adamantium attaching itself to his bones.

Usually, if he had a nightmare beside you, he'd grunt and twitch, maybe shift around a little. That night though, you got to see the whole performance. The tossing and turning, sweating and moaning, tense limbs and scrunched up face.

Poor, sweet, innocent you thought that you could just wake him up. Your hands nudged at his bicep and shoulder as you gently cooed "Logan. It's just a dream."

In the end, your tenderness didn't matter. When he actually came to, your anguished cry was all that registered. And then he felt the sharp heat between his knuckles that meant the claws were out. His heart dropped and his vision nearly blacked out. He couldn't have.

He retracted them as quickly as they'd appeared and pulled back to look at you. Crimson flooded the gray t-shirt you'd worn to bed. The three little spots spread into large blooms of scarlet. Your hands flew to the spot to clutch at it, but they did nothing to stop the warm liquid from spilling out.

"No, no, no, fuck," he'd whispered frantically as his mind raced for a solution.

Your cries morphed into whimpers. Soft and vulnerable. Like a prey animal that'd been fatally wounded but not put out of its misery. Blood seeped out onto your bedding, and it was then that he rocketed off the mattress and scooped you up into his arms.

Fortunately, Scott, Jean, and Storm were already outside the door in the hall, having heard the scream. A gathering of students lingered behind them as well. Shame coursed through his veins, albeit dulled by the panic. He remembered thinking it was stupid, but after the adrenaline left his system, it was the dominant emotion he was left with. Ashamed was the only word that could describe holding the knowledge that everyone here now saw he was capable of hurting the woman he loves. Maybe he was no better than an animal.

In truth, shame was all he felt now. So much relief settled over him since you'd made it out alive. Thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities from your mutation and Jean's adequate medical skills, these scars would be the only lasting effect of the wounds.

He'd rushed you down to the infirmary faster than he'd ever moved in a non-combat situation. His feet thundered down the stairs, a part of him withering to ash with each little whimper you let out as the motion jostled your body around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Almost there. We're almost there. You're gonna be ok," he'd mumbled out thoughtlessly, saying anything he could that would bring you even a shred of comfort.

He kept your hand in his the entire time you were down there on the cold examination table. His grip stayed firm. He wouldn't let the anxiety over your well being consume him. This was his fault, and now you needed him. He didn't get to be worried or upset or anything that wasn't in support of you.

When you howled in pain, he winced as if he was the one being treated. You cried for him, choking out "Logan" through tears over and over. It tore him apart inside. All he could do to soothe you was stroke your cheek and murmur reassurances in your ear.

"Shh, shh, shh. You're doing so good, baby. My strong girl. Being so brave."

He usually reserved affection for private moments, but in those painful seconds, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room.

These thoughts running through his head display across his face. The way his cheek squishes against your tummy and his eyes vacantly stare at the wall opposite his bed. You told him the next day that everything transformed into a blur in your mind. You remembered the feeling of being stabbed and the sight of him panicking, but beyond that nothing specific stayed. You knew he held you and talked to you even though you couldn't recall an individual thing he said or did.

That was fine with him. He listened to you tell the story from your perspective. You spoke with your normal cadence, the usual happy glow in your eyes, and the same animated gestures coming from your hands. His eyes lingered on your torso though. The bandages peeking out from underneath your clean camisole he'd changed you into.

Every last detail of the incident was etched into the deepest part of his psyche. Most likely stored away as material for future nightmares. As much as he hated it, he figured that's the way it should be. He didn't deserve the peace that comes with forgetting.

For the first week after it'd happened, he wouldn't sleep with you. He'd stay with you, cuddled against your body, until you drifted off. Then he'd get up and skulk back to his own room, leaving you cold and alone on your bed.

Eventually after a few more days, you got him to try it out again, but he'd only do it in his own room. It was hard for him to be in yours. New sheets covered your foamy mattress now since the blood wouldn't wash out of the old set. Each brush of the novel material against his skin was just a rose-printed reminder of what he'd done to you.

He's snapped out of his recollection when your voice returns to the original conversation.

"None of that stuff happened though. You didn't kill me, and you're not going to. I'll be more careful next time," you break the silence with a gentle reassurance.

Next time. That's what hurts the worst. You knew this would happen again. You'd promised that when it did you wouldn't try to wake him. Wouldn't touch him or do anything that could set him off. Just give him his space and let him work through it.

"I don't even want you worrying about being careful when you're trying to sleep," he grumbles.

Your nails scrape over his scalp, making his eyes flutter. A deep sigh leaves him. As much as he hated himself for all of this, he could never help easing up under your touch.

"You're worth it."

Three words you said so often. He never believed them, but that didn't stop you from repeating them like a slogan. Instead of arguing with you over the validity of the statement, he stays silent. Replaces any verbal response with a physical one by nuzzling into the warmth of your stomach and laying kisses around your navel.

You watch the affectionate gesture and trail your fingers down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tender skin there.

"You are," you whisper, "One mistake doesn't define you. Doesn't change how I see you."

"It's not just a simple mistake-" he starts.

"Yes it is," you interject, trying to nip his self doubt in the bud.

"It's not. It's not like I forgot your birthday or left my wallet behind when taking you out."

"It's still an accident. The severity doesn't change the intention. Would you hate me if my powers acted up and hurt you?"

God, you could be just as stubborn as him. It grated on his already frayed nerves. He shifts to look up at you fully. And some of that building tension dissolves upon seeing the earnest look on your face.

"It's not the same. Anything you did to me, I would heal," he says.

"I'm healing too. I'm just not as fast as you," you respond. You actually smile as if this is some lighthearted matter. Of course you knew it wasn't the same. You presented no danger to him whereas if he'd nicked you an inch to the left, he might be talking to your headstone right now instead of you. That wasn't the point though.

He shakes his head. "It's different, bub. But I'm not even saying you should hate me..." 

In truth, he didn't know what he was saying. If he wanted you to hate him or stay away from him, he could be the one to break things off. But he was still right here, arms wrapped around you and head hovering inches away from your body.

"I just think you should be more cautious than you're being," he finishes, "I don't want you to think you have to put up with this."

You frown and pet his hair. "I don't think that."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, baby," he sighs, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

He could certainly flaunt a pair of puppy eyes when he wanted to. The way he was looking up at you now made him seem so sad and wounded. Like a dog who can't control when he bites but gets kicked aside for it all the same.

"You're not going to. We'll be careful. It was an accident," you say, tone almost pleading, "You're still my Logan."

To go along with your words, you pull on one of his arms, beckoning him closer. He complies with your request and scales your body so that the two of you are aligned. You stare up into his eyes and the whirlpools of emotion within them. Your hand lands on his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth in small swipes.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away cause of this," you whisper, "It wasn't your fault. You don't choose to have those dreams."

You can tell he wants to argue, but he struggles to find the words. Indirectly cutting him off, you guide his head closer to yours. His face slots against the crook of your neck, and yours does the same in his. You nuzzle him there, breathing in the rich, musky scent of him.

"You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. You don't deserve to be alone," you say and kiss below his ear.

The words make him ache from within. His metal bones vibrate with the weight of possibility of that being true while his heartbeat feels as though it stutters between his ribs. He wants to huff and say that he knows, that he doesn't need you psychoanalyzing him, thank you very much. But none of that will come out. So instead he chuckles. He tries to make it sound smooth; although, the awkwardness is apparent in each bit.

He pulls back a little and smirks down at you. "So you think I'm cut out for being gentle? Is that it?"

You know what he's doing. As closed off as he tries to be, you don't need telepathy to sense what he's feeling. You let him play it off with a joke though. If he's joking, he's not drowning in self-pity, which is all you want.

"Mhm, I know you are," you say and nose at his cheek, kissing the spot on it without facial hair, "You may have claws, but you purr like a kitten when I have my hands on you."

His eyes roll when you say that. He leans down and begins to return some of your loving gestures.

"Don't go telling people that. It's only for you," he murmurs.

"Of course, of course," you say with the same subtle playfulness.

Words die out in favor of using your mouths for better things. The kisses are lazy, built more off of love and adoration rather than lust and passion. One of your arms loops over his shoulders to keep him close while your other rubs at his side. The tip of his nose brushes your earlobe as he lowers to kiss down your throat.

His lips meet your pulse point and the divots in your neck that make you shudder when touched. He's familiar with all your secret spots by now. He plays you better than any instrument. His breath fans over your skin as his teeth scrape against the same flesh. His hands work below, squeezing your waist, fingertips leaving little bumps in their wake.

The hand of yours that had been on his side drifts further down and wiggles its way between your two bodies. Your digits stroke his pelvis above the area his cock would soon begin to harden.

A groan reverberates through his chest as his shaft rises to attention. From this angle, the pads of your fingers can reach the tip. You rub on it with light pressure, up and down. That gets him to repeat the groan, only this time the undertone of need is more prominent.

His lips latch onto your neck to work a little mark onto your skin while he pushes the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and panties, already easily accessible.

He nudges your thighs apart further and grinds his bulge over your mound. The heat from both your aching centers grows hotter with the friction. Arching your back off the bed, you whimper softly for further satisfaction. He presses you back down using his larger stature.

"Patience, sweetheart. Being gentle, remember?"

He only teases you with a few more grinds of his hips before his boxers vanish too and his heavy cock rests against the soft fabric of your panties. You feel the familiar thickness at first. Then his fingers swoop down and pull your panties to the side so he can slot the drippy tip against your folds. Precum smears against your slick, velvety skin.

Seconds later he splits you open. He bites his lip while you whine, his fat cock pushing further into your wanting hole. You squeeze around him. Your walls clamp and contract on his length. It doesn't push him out, merely sucks him further in. He chokes out a low moan from how tight you get.

So tight and so wet. Arousal oozes from you in no short supply. It didn't take much to get you going for Logan. A few touches alone had you leaking like a broken faucet. You whimper as he bottoms out, hips jerking as the head taps your cervix. He always gets so deep it's nearly unbearable. Even when he's going slow like he is now, he's all you can think of. He fills you up down there and occupies all the space in your head.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks.

You nod, unable to respond verbally as you adjust to the intrusion. 

He doesn't give you a prolonged period of time to adapt right now. Normally he would, but most other times, he'd be going much faster than he plans to at this moment. Typically, he'd let you get comfy with the stretch before drawing his hips back and then pumping them forward again. He'd slam in and out of you. It'd be loud with the sound of skin clapping combined with your moans and his growls. It'd be rough and quick. The bed would shake and bobble around with the force of him.

But tonight, none of that happens. He barely even pulls out to thrust. He stays nice and deep, grinding his hips rather than fucking himself in and out of you. You whine in sweet stretches of sound. He sighs and grunts against your neck. Neither of you sound like feral animals going into heat.

You loved when you fucked like that, but right now, both of you needed this. Each roll of his hips felt like a stroke of heaven brushing your insides. Your limbs curl around him tighter to keep him close. Your arms guard his neck while your legs dig into his hips. He's so lost in the feeling of you, he can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

"Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you. Wanna know I'm doing it how you need," he mumbles.

"Feels perfect," you whimper in return, "So fuckin' deep."

"Good. I only ever wanna make you feel good."

You nod, knowing it's the truth. "Anyone can hurt me, but only you know how to make me feel like this."

His eyes scrunch up at your words. He just feels lucky he has his face buried against your skin so you can't see. It had been just what he needed to hear. Boosting himself onto his knees a bit more to gain some leverage, he grips your hips and ruts against you with the slightest bit more force.

You whine at the soothing rhythm in which your bodies rock. The sense of satisfaction brought on from this took root in the deepest pit of your belly. You weren't gonna explode like you often did. Probably wouldn't scream or scratch up his back. But you could tell you were gonna cum hard.

Without saying it, he communicates he feels the same. His lack of usual dirty talk tells you everything you need to know. His cock stays nestled deep inside your pussy as he works you both to the edge. His face remains flush against your neck.

You cum first, and he follows right behind. You tighten up, toes curling and a high mewl echoing out of your throat. Your body shivers. He spills his release inside of you, his energy leaving with the sticky ropes of cum that fire.

He goes boneless on top of you, still cherishing the feeling of your skin on his. His breaths feel cool against your sweating skin.

"My baby," he sighs. His eyes flutter shut. He knows he has to pull out before he knocks out for a while, but he can do that in a second. He just needs a few more minutes of this.

You press a few kisses to the side of his head and rub his back. His hand slides between both your abdomen to touch the scars, reminding himself what he's capable of despite his current tenderness.

After a few moments, he pulls out and slumps to the side of you. You peck his lips and take the acquisition of space as a way to cool off. His eyes are drooping already. It feels good seeing him so relaxed. You kiss the space between his brows, then the bridge of his knows, and end on his lips.

"Sweet dreams," you whisper, wishing that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least for tonight.

[sinofwriting]

I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his  wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t now. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ mad with need ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you want him so bad that you feel like you’re going crazy so he indulges you┊3.0k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊x wade wilson too, age gap, dirty fantasies from a horny reader (who is actually insecure about herself), size difference, no prep we’re dying like nicepool, riding & unprotected piv, breeding/creampie, a bit rushed i need this out my wips

➤ author's note: okay so this is actually the very first logan fic i started, but i have no idea why it took me so long to finish it? it’s a bit all over the place, but i hope some people enjoy anyway!

has he realized you were there and simply testing your self-control, or is he just being so effortlessly sexy again that you aren’t sure if you’re in love or jealous? was there any other reason for him to be laid out on the beat-up couch like something to feast on when he was simply holding a bottle of liquor in one hand to sip on and flipping through the channels of a barely-working box television with a remote in the other? why else would he be so delectable around a known pervert(s, wade is just as bad as you are, just more focused on the possible destruction of his home rather than the pansexual panic between you and logan plaguing him) if not to tempt you?

you’re constantly fawning over the sight of him and letting out dreamy sighs which have become more common lately than you would like to admit, swearing that you could gaze upon him for every second of the day and not tire of it. they say “god gives his most difficult battles to his strongest soldiers”, yet the battle assigned to you is restraining yourself from pouncing on him at the very moment and begging to suck his cock. you know that you’re horny most hours of the day and also kinda a brazen whore, but the way he makes you wet in record time should be worthy of a gold olympic medal.

every time his lips wrap around the rim of the glass bottle, you can’t help but imagine them somewhere else. the image of his handsome face between your legs and scruffy facial hair coated in your slick while he ravishes you haunts your mind whenever you try to sleep, yet the phantom sensation of his tongue on you while his nose stimulates your clit helps you rest in the end. you bet that he would be great at eating pussy too, with his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude— god. 

he’s also so jacked that even when he’s resting, his muscles still seem to bulge with prominent veins like a nurse’s wet dream and it has you downright drooling. now that the sleeves of his suit were gone, you could see how beefy his arms were, and seeing any inch of his skin had you acting up like a victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time. he could probably crush your skull like an egg if you ever found yourself head-locked in them (you’ve seen him do it to wade out of irritation, and you’ve never been so jealous).

and not to mention how peggable his shapely ass is, there’s really no limit to all the things you want to try with him if you were given the chance—

“are you finished staring?” his gruff voice brought you back to reality, refocusing your vision as he made a slight gesture to his body with one of his rare smirks, “like what you see?” it’s a rhetorical question, he knows how good he looks despite his age and you have already made your attraction towards him well-established. 

you don’t need to say anything, he can tell what you’re thinking as clearly as day, so you don’t bother making any dirty remarks like usual and just walk out the room. you paced around the house for a minute or two to calm yourself down until you eventually ran into wade. “oh my god,” you cupped your face with your hands, eyes becoming big and round as if you were going to cry, “i want him so bad, i feel like i’m gonna lose my mind if i don’t fuck him!”

“well, why haven’t you? i know for a fact that my presence isn’t enough to stop you from climbing him like a tree, so spill it!”

“uhhhh,” you pointed your fingers together to exaggerate self-consciousness, “what if… what if he doesn’t like me and just sees me as some annoying, excessively horny kid?”

“can you believe this bitch?” he scoffed, looking at the invisible audience that was always watching before grabbing your shoulders and violently shaking you, “listen here missy, he definitely likes you— i have yet to see that man smile at anything else that isn’t your face and comments that rival jjk twitter fans in vulgarity! why are you suddenly getting cold feet now when you’re such a player? you’re suddenly screaming, crying, and throwing up over peanut whom you’ve been hitting on non-stop since we found him?!”

“i don’t know! it’s different, he’s my hero, and— i know it’s hard for you to believe, but he’s not even half the asshole my previous flings were. besides, he so fucking hot—”

“yeah, but he’s also so fucking old— his dick is probably all shriveled up—” the sound of the said man clearing his throat made him jump out of his skin, slowly turning his head to look at the older man before giggling nervously and waving his hands around in some form of awkward greeting. even if he can regenerate and wounds are more like papercuts, the last thing he wanted was to get stabbed in the balls by his adamantium claws again for making such a comment. “ahaha, how much did you hear…?”

“enough,” he grunted, turning his attention to you, “and you’re coming with me.”

“huh—?” there was hardly a moment for you to properly react before he suddenly bent down to grab you by the waist and toss you over his shoulder, “you’re not even gonna ask me to dinner first?!” you must have looked like a fish out of the water with how your mouth was agape with surprise, and you heard him genuinely chuckle in amusement. both from the fact that you didn’t see this coming after all you’ve been saying to him as well as the fact that he could pick you up and throw you around like you weighed nothing.

“well, you didn’t exactly greet me with a ‘hello’ before shamelessly undressing me with your eyes when we first met, now did you?” you couldn’t see if he was smiling or not considering that you were upside-down. the current angle only gave you a close-up view of his perfect ass (not that you were complaining, you need to know his squat routine), unsure if the heat on your face was from the embarrassment of him calling you out or simply from the blood rushing to your head.

“what about me? are you lovebirds really going to leave me all by myself, lonely and yearning for the companionship of another while you two fuck like rabbits?”

“ahh, go fuck yourself.” the grin on his face dissipated the moment he opened his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to ruin his mood as he carried you away to the closest bedroom available, quickly flinging you on the bed without a bother to be careful when handling you since he knew that you could and have taken worse as deadpool’s sidekick. “why are you so nervous? think i don’t want you as much as you want me?”

“wait, actually?” your usually confident facade of the overly forward flirt was faltering more and more by the second.

“you’re so busy ogling my body that you haven’t even noticed the way i look at you, huh?” it’s obvious logan was an absolute beast of a man, but when he cages you with his arms between his bulky frame and the mattress, you feel like a little field mouse against a lion. the way your pupils dilate as you look up at him with adorned excitement has him so fucking feral, heat stirring in his stomach and blood rushing to his cock. he traced over your outfit, admiring how the skin-tight leather hugged your curved. “wearing such a slutty little things that leaves nothing to the imagination, and you expected me not to think about pinning you down and fucking you until you pass out?”

you shivered at his words, arousal pooling in your underwear and warmth spreading throughout your body under your skin. this cheeky son of a bitch can smell it too, the sweet smell of desire, sensing how needy you are for his touch and how your pussy is just begging for his attention. 

as much as he wanted to rip your clothing off and pound into you like there was no tomorrow, he wanted to take his time to properly treasure the cute sidekick who has been reminding him how it feels to be a man again, young and unafraid to pursue the woman of his dreams and treat her right the way that countless of others failed to do. (you’re going to laugh hysterically at him later on down the line when you hear him say that, never thinking you could be the object of anyone’s affection past a one-night stand, but the look in his eyes makes you realize he’s telling the truth and you’ll get all flustered over it.) 

you can taste the alcohol from earlier when he kisses you and moan into it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, all teeth, tongue, and animalistic want. he ran a hand down your torso to reach the zipper of your suit, undoing it in one swift motion, exposing your bare chest to his eager eyes.

“no bra?”

“i don’t need it when the suit— ah!” 

he cut you off, not caring about the intricacies of how the costume supported everything when he would only get distracted, moving his lips to take one of your perk nipples in his mouth and sucking like it was going to give him milk or something while pinching the other one in between his fingers. he’s like a kid on christmas playing with his new toy: palming at your breasts, cupping and squishing them together, and realizing that his large hands could practically cover them entirely.

“fuckk, you’re so pretty, doll,” he drawled, letting go of your teat with a ‘pop’ and kissing your neck before making you gasp by sinking his teeth into your skin. you gasped at the sudden sensation, deep enough to leave a lasting indent but not deep enough to draw blood, as he soothed the fresh wound by licking it with his tongue. everyone was going to know that you were his, especially that motherfucker he knows is listening in on the other side of the door with his cock in his hands.

 “logan…” you rasp, voice barely above a whisper.

“what is it, princess?” it was a nickname he has used plenty of times, yet it felt completely different in such a sexually charged situation, so much more intimate in a way that you feel your heart racing even faster than before and a rush of energy within. 

“need you…” you murmured.

“come on, a little louder, you need to use your words.” 

“fucking hell,” you covered your face with your hands, trying to ignore the way your cheeks burned, “i need you, logan! i’m gonna go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now!”

“hm, is that so?” he had been resting on his side up until now, laying on his back and lifting you up with both hands under your arms. you found yourself sitting pretty in his lap, straddling him, legs on either side of his waist. “why don’t you work for it then? work for what you wanted so badly this entire time?”

you inhaled sharply, looking down at this fine specimen of a mutant under you made of pure muscle and adamantium with a noticeable tent in his pants, a cocky grin gracing his features daring you to continue. only a fool wouldn’t take up his challenge. biting the inside of your mouth, you began to fully strip yourself of all clothing, kicking it off to the side to be forgotten and showing off your beautiful bare body that logan has been dreaming about since the moment he met you. “take your clothes off too,” you huffed, “it’s not fair for me to be the only one naked.”

he hummed in agreement, taking off the upper half of his yellow and blue-detailed suit, revealing his rippling abs and pecs— age has yet to make a dent in his physique, he doesn’t even look real. he’s not going to remove the bottom half though, both because you’re already on top of him and because you still need to “work for it.” 

experimentally, you rolled your hips on his bulge, feeling a twinge of amusement when he visibly had to clench his jaw to prevent a moan from slipping out. he’s just as pent-up as you are, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it right now. you fiddled with the metal of his zipper for a moment before pulling it down, motions fidgety with nerves yet still determined to see this through. 

your eyes widen at the sight of his fully erect cock, noting instantly that he’s bigger than any other guy you’ve been with, yet still feeling your mouth water at the size and the vein trailing its underbelly. “is it even going to fit?” you manage to breathe out, reaching out to run a finger over the leaking tip and hearing him hiss.

“only one way to find out, but i think you can take it.” 

placing your hands on his shoulders for balance, you put his theory to the test and raised your body to sink yourself onto him, whimpering at the pleasurable stretch when you manage to make it past the tip. you’re so fucking soaked from your own thoughts and the few minutes of foreplay earlier that you didn’t even need his fingers to prep you, just using your slick as a form of natural lube and feeling him slip into you inch by inch.

“that’s it, doll, just like that,” he praised, the words going right to your head, really enjoying the show of you struggling to take all of him.

“mmhh, lo—” his name came out in a more whiny voice than expected with your eyes rolling back and nails raking into his skin. your thighs were aching with the constant repetitive motion of working yourself up and down his cock, taking one step back for two steps forward, more than halfway there yet unsure if you could handle it all when you felt so impossibly full already.

“shhh, i know, i know, sweetheart— just take your time, i’m not going anywhere.” his words are so sweet despite being a complete asshole by laying back and letting you do all the hard work, hands behind his head and everything while watching his cock slowly disappearing between your folds.

you look at him through glossy half-lidded eyes, brain turned to absolute mush, not even realizing that you had finally taken him to the base and was comfortably nestled on his cock. it took a few moments to adjust to his girth, breathing heavily with the swelling feeling of satisfaction developing within you. you have barely even started, and yet it was already so much better than anything else— he was so much better than anyone else. 

“you okay?” he waits for you to blink to process his words before nodding slightly, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ before your eyes went wide when he suddenly grabbed your waist and positioned you under him once again. you didn’t notice because you went dumb with dick (to put it bluntly), but he had been restraining himself from flipping you over to be on top or trying to buck his hips into you before you were ready. 

he then started thrusting into you at a relentless pace, your hands flying up to his biceps and clinging on for dear life to find purchase. there was no frame to go with this mattress you were resting on, but you were sure it would be banging against the wall until it broke if it was there. your eyes were screwed shut with your head thrown back into the pillow, letting out pathetic pitched moans along with stutters of his name as the orgasm in your stomach builds.

“aah, lo-logan!”

“don’t worry, i got you,” he lazily circled your clit with his thumb, feeling you clench even more tightly at the action, “just let yourself go, relax— cum for me, doll.”

you cried out as your climax washed over you, gushing all over his cock and the pants of his suit that neither of you bothered to take off earlier. it’s a shame that you ruined his clothing so soon when he just got this costume, but honestly, he likes it a lot better when the yellow is stained with the evidence of how good he made you feel.

the way your walls spasmed around him made him quickly follow suit, shooting ribbons of his seed into you and painting your insides white. perhaps he would have been able to hold on for a bit longer when he was younger, but he can’t find himself caring in the least when you were looking up at him like he was everything right now.

he leaned down to kiss you, slowly pulling out of you, being careful not to rest on top of you and crush you under his weight, generally being uncharacteristically sweet towards you in stark comparison to how he was rocking your world like you were the last two souls on earth just a minute ago.

“so… do you like me?” it was the tone he grew accustomed to when you and wade were teasing him, feeling you wrap your arms around him with a sigh and snuggling into his chest.

“yeah… i like you a lot more than you think…”

[marcyvampire]

Pt.3 SILLLY LITTLE BAT.

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ There are only memories, fragments of a past that, like shadows, will haunt you until your last breath, whispers of what was and will never be. Gotham cries out for a guardian, a soul to face the darkness, to challenge fate in its shadowy alleys.

But tell me, who will rise to protect you, traveler of scars and broken dreams? Who will watch over your light when the world swallows your hopes?

In the eternal night, amidst the echo of fear and longing, there is only one path: to confront the monsters and become the hero this city needs, even if the price is the forgetting of oneself.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation.

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt2. Pt.4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— Here is the continuation of the other parts. There will be a few more parts but you should know that we will soon reach the end, but there are still things to clarify and so on. I don't know if you would like me to do another Batfam yandere series in the future or similar. Send me your ideas if you want :3

They are upset because I left

Where they never included me.

The car moved slowly under the gray sky of Gotham, as if the universe itself understood the weight of the pain you carried in your small figure. Commissioner Gordon, with his firm hands on the wheel, cast furtive glances at the rearview mirror, where he saw you curled up in the back seat. Wrapped in an old blanket, the same one you had hugged for days, your face was hidden among the folds, but the silent tears that fell could not be disguised. There were no words that Gordon could offer to heal the recent wound of losing your mother, but his empathy, though silent, was there, wrapping around you like the coat that couldn't quite warm you.

In your lap, a small Batman doll rested, pressed against your chest, as if that fabric toy could protect you from the world that had just destroyed your innocence. Your eyes, still swollen and red, looked out the window without seeing, watching the city that seemed so distant, so foreign.

"You will be loved and cherished," Gordon whispered, breaking the silence that had weighed like fog in the car. "Bruce Wayne... he will take care of you, I promise."

But you didn't respond immediately. The name Wayne felt strange, distant, as if he spoke of someone living in a story, not in your reality. You looked up, your eyes meeting Gordon’s for a second in the rearview mirror.

"And if they don't want me...?" you murmured, insecurity clouding your childish voice. "I don't know them, Commissioner... and they don't know me. What if they leave me in an orphanage? Mama always told me those places aren't nice."

Gordon swallowed hard, understanding the depth of your fear. "You were just a child, but you had already learned that love was not a guarantee." The world had taught you that cruel lesson too soon.

"The Waynes..." he began, searching for the right words, "are good people. You might not understand it at first, but I assure you they have suffered too. Bruce..." he paused, recalling the losses that man had faced. "He understands what it is to lose someone. He will do everything he can to make you feel safe, to help you find a home again."

But you kept looking at the doll in your hands, your fingers squeezing it tightly, as if it were the only stable thing in a world crumbling around you.

The silence grew heavy, uncomfortable, as if the words wanted to come out but didn’t know how. Again, Gordon spoke, his voice low, almost afraid to break the stillness.

"And/y/n... what was your mom like?" he asked softly, not taking his eyes off the road, as if by doing so, he could give you space to be honest, to not feel pressured.

You fell silent for a long moment, your small fingers nervously playing with the edges of the blanket. The world outside the car seemed a reflection of what you felt inside: cloudy, cold, distant.

Finally, you exhaled, as if gathering the courage to speak. Your voice came out shaky at first, filled with a mix of sadness and a hard-to-accept truth.

"My mom..." you murmured, not taking your eyes off the window. "She wasn't a good person, but... she wasn't a villain either."

Gordon nodded slowly, without interrupting you. He knew things were rarely black or white, that life had that cruel ability to mix the two.

"She... told me she grew up in an orphanage. She never had anything that was really hers." You paused, your eyes glassy as you recalled details that now seemed more painful than ever. "Well, except for me."

"Gordon felt a knot form in his throat." He knew that loss was a terrible burden to bear, but there was something more in your words, something suggesting that, amidst it all, there had also been love. An imperfect love, but real.

"She always dreamed of having a little house..." you continued, and for the first time, a faint smile appeared on your face, though it was tinged with melancholy. "A house with a garden, lots of Barbie dolls, and a little dog. She didn't need more. She just wanted something that was hers."

You stopped for a moment, as if the simple act of recalling those dreams your mother had hurt you. You knew she would never have them. That the world had been cruel to her, denying her even the small things she wished for so fervently.

"But... she never got it. We were always moving around, fleeing, searching for something better. And now... she doesn’t even have that."

The car seemed to shrink, the air denser. Gordon felt a wave of compassion for that woman who, though perhaps not perfect, had dreamed of something so simple, so human, and yet had not achieved it.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n," he murmured.

"Commissioner, what if... what if I can't forget her?" you asked, almost in a whisper. "What if I can't stop thinking about Mom?"

The silence in the car became heavy, almost tangible. Gordon wanted to tell you that you didn't have to forget, that it was natural to carry that pain. But the words didn't come, and instead, only a long sigh escaped his lips.

"It's not about forgetting, Y/n," he finally said, his voice low but firm. "It's about moving forward, even though it hurts. Your mother would want you to find happiness again, even though it may not seem possible now. And I’m sure Bruce will do everything in his power to help you."

The car turned onto the long, dark road leading to Wayne Manor. The trees formed a tunnel of shadows, as if the road were wrapped in the same mourning you carried within. The mansion, with its imposing grandeur, appeared in the distance, its walls as high as the secrets it held. "You were so small in the face of the immensity of this new life that awaited you."

"We're almost there," Gordon said softly, as he slowed down. "The wind outside whispered through the trees, like an echo of everything you had lost."

You didn’t know it at that moment, but that house would be full of stories, some broken, others in the process of healing. And although you felt like a stranger in a strange land now, Gordon hoped that, one day, that place would become your refuge.

The car stopped in front of the enormous gates. Gordon looked at you one last time before getting out. In his eyes, you could see a mix of sadness and hope, an empathy that went beyond words.

"You are not alone, Y/n," he said, his voice now firmer. "You will never be alone again."

You remained silent, gazing at the mansion as you clung to the blanket and the Batman doll. The weight of the world still rested on your small shoulders, but for the first time, there might have been a glimmer of relief in knowing that someone, even if he was a strange and distant man, was waiting for you inside."

And in that moment, although you still felt the burning pain of your loss, a ray of hope began to break through the shadows of your heart.

Y/n was sitting in the BatCafé, that corner of the city where the tables wobbled and conversations were woven into murmurs, as if the place knew how to keep secrets that even you wouldn’t dare to share aloud. The walls, a mossy green, were filled with stories that no one had asked for. She looked at her lukewarm latte as one looks at a future that hasn’t quite arrived, a liquid mockery evaporating before it could warm her hands. It had barely been a month since she left her family home, but she already felt that independence was more of a myth than a fulfilled dream. At first, the heroism of having thrown herself into the world had filled her with pride, but now reality lurked like a treacherous chill seeping through the cracks, and the fact that she was waiting for her potential roommate didn’t help matters.

“Well, at least the rent will be cheaper,” she told herself, or rather to the coffee, as if the dark liquid could reply with something sensible.

Sharing an apartment was, for Y/n, the only way out. Her salary barely covered survival, but only if she fed on fresh air and broken dreams. And there she was, waiting for someone named Pamela Isley, who, according to the ad, didn’t even seem to be from this planet. "I hope she’s not one of those people with invisible cats," she thought. Of course, the alternatives weren’t very promising: people who collected Batman figurines or guys who made friends with cockroaches in the kitchen. She had seen it all; after all, her apartment was in one of the most dangerous areas of Gotham, and she knew it all too well.

You were born in that area. One could say the neighborhood chose you before you had a chance to choose it. You didn’t remember exactly which apartment; in that hive of broken windows and half-painted bricks, all the floors seemed like a blurry copy of the previous one, each with the same square footage and an air of silent resignation. In the end, it didn’t matter, because in a way, everything was the same. Dust in the corners, worn tiles, cracks in the walls that seemed to form a map of some invisible and secret city, a place that only you could decipher if you stopped to observe long enough.

It was an unpretentious place, where people rarely smiled, but neither did they let themselves be trampled. There was something in the air, a kind of poorly disguised pride, as if every neighbor, every stray dog, knew that surviving there wasn’t a matter of luck but of will. Heroes didn’t exist in that corner of the world, but villains didn’t dare impose their law without facing some gaze that, without saying anything, said it all. It was rough terrain, where kindness camouflaged behind growls and complaints, and malice grew tired before it could fully settle.

And yet, you loved it. It was absurd, but you loved it with that devotion reserved for things you don’t choose, for roots that sink into your chest without asking for permission. The place was filled with memories you didn’t ask for, stories you never wanted to hear but that seeped into your skin. Tales of people who vanished in alleyways, of broken promises around the corner, of loves that drowned in factory smoke. And yet, those same tales were like echoes that held you, reminding you that you were born there, in that half-hell where life was always a fight but never a complete defeat.

The clock in the BatCafé struck six ten when the door opened. What happened next was hard to explain, like when you dream and you don’t know if it’s the pillow or the universe holding you. Pamela Isley walked in, and it was as if the wind, that autumn wind that brings memories, had gently pushed her in. Y/n looked up, and the first thing she noticed was her hair, a red that was out of this world, more fire than pigment, more nature than dye. The roots tangled as if they were living branches, and for a moment, Y/n wondered if the sun had made a mistake and was shining only on her.

Pamela walked as if she had a pact with the earth. Her steps were slow but firm, as if her feet waited for the ground to respond before settling. She wore a jacket that was impossible to describe without sounding crazy: green vines and small buds peeking out, as if at any moment the plants would grow over her. "Where does this woman come from?" Y/n thought, feeling something beyond mere curiosity. There was something she couldn’t deny, an attraction that felt unsettling, like those waves that, without warning, sweep you away when you think you can still touch the bottom.

Pamela approached the table with a calculated calm, a calm only nature or time can sculpt. And then she smiled. In that smile, Y/n felt something familiar yet strange, as if she were facing a younger version of her mother, but instead of being terrifying, it was comforting. What was happening?

“Y/n L/n?” Pamela said, her voice reminiscent of the whisper of dry leaves underfoot.

“Yes, that’s me,” Y/n answered, trying to make her voice sound normal, even though everything inside her felt out of place.

Pamela sat down across from her, crossing her legs with an almost feline elegance. The BatCafé seemed to conspire around them; the air smelled of wet earth and freshly brewed coffee, a strange mix, like the combination of what was about to be born and what had already died.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” Y/n began, not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence. She wasn’t even sure what she was expecting.

“Strange?” Pamela completed, with a playful smile that left Y/n with a sense of defeat and fascination in equal parts.

“Something like that,” Y/n replied, looking at Pamela’s hands. Her long, slender fingers were covered in small green spots, as if she had just planted a forest with her own hands. There was something almost magical about her, as if every part of her being was connected to the earth in a way that Y/n couldn’t quite understand. And there, amid that confusion, was the fine thread of attraction.

Pamela let her gaze fall on her own latte, turning it between her hands as if it were about to reveal some hidden secret in the foam.

“So, what do you do? I mean… aside from, you know… looking like you walked out of a Tim Burton movie,” Y/n said, attempting a bit of humor to ease the tension she felt in her stomach.

Pamela glanced at her and laughed softly, a laugh that felt like an unexpected breeze on a hot day.

“I’m… a caretaker. Of plants.” She paused, gauging Y/n’s reaction. “And other things.”

“Other things?” Y/n asked, intrigued but also amused by the way Pamela toyed with the mystery.

“Yes, like people who don’t know how to water a plant without drowning it,” she replied, arching an eyebrow mischievously.

The response made Y/n laugh, a laugh she hadn’t expected, as if Pamela had found a way to touch something deep within her, something that hadn’t bloomed in a long time. And without being able to help it, she felt drawn, not just by the way Pamela moved, spoke, or even by the air of mystery surrounding her, but because there was something more, something familiar, something that reminded her of her mother, but without the shadows of authority and judgment. It was like a wild, free version of what had once been security.

“So… are you going to save my cactus or criticize it?” Y/n said, trying to sound casual while feeling that her heart had started playing a game of chess with her emotions.

Pamela smiled again, and this time it was a different smile, one that seemed to carry a promise.

“It depends. Would you let me stay to try?” Pamela said, with a playful seriousness that left Y/n unsure whether the question was about the cactus or something much larger.

Y/n blinked, trying to process the phrase, but deep down she knew that any answer would sound awkward. Pamela’s question hung in the air between them like a leaf falling slowly, right at the perfect point where it was neither entirely a joke nor completely serious. And there she was, caught in that space, wondering whether she should laugh or just blush.

“Well… you can try,” she finally said, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her face. “But I can’t promise the cactus will survive. I’m something like… a serial plant killer... When I was younger, I had time to care for them as they deserved, with help from… from my father. But now work consumes me a lot, and the truth is I’ve neglected them too much… they must feel the same way I felt when… sorry, I talk too much about myself, don’t I?”

Pamela raised an eyebrow, with a smile that seemed to say more than either of them dared to voice at that moment.

“Oh, no, keep talking about yourself; I’m used to it. I have very… eccentric friends, to be honest.” She leaned a bit closer, as if about to share a secret. “Though I prefer not to work under threats, so don’t look at me like I’m going to be your next plant murder victim. But I doubt a little scared bat can kill even a fly.”

Y/n laughed nervously, surprised at how easy Pamela made everything. She, who had always been clumsy with conversations and glances, felt like the words flowed with Pamela in a way she didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to question either.

“...Little Bat?” Y/n asked, with a clumsy and blushing smile as her fingers nervously toyed with the edge of her cup.

Pamela let out a low giggle, that laugh that always seemed to carry the sound of dry leaves being trampled in autumn. With a gentle gesture, she pointed to her clothes.

“Is it that obvious?” she said with a half-smile, raising a playful eyebrow as she leaned a little forward.

She wore a dark fur coat, enormous, with a wide fall that, under the dim light of the BatCafé, seemed to have the precise shape of bat wings extending. The high, well-fitted black boots completed the image of a figure that seemed to have emerged from the very shadows. And for a moment, Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or get lost in that air of mystery that Pamela seemed to wear like a second coat.

“Well…” Y/n diverted her gaze with a shy smile, “it’s not like you’re hiding it much.”

Pamela smiled with that touch of mischief that characterized her.

“Does it bother you? I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve been fascinated by bats since I was little.” she asked, her voice low and slow, as if measuring every word, as if the world were a delicate plant that required to be touched with the tips of her fingers.

Y/n let out a small nervous laugh, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks again.

“No, not at all. I think it’s…” she hesitated for a second, searching for the right word, unsure how to avoid the obvious, “I think it suits you well.”

Pamela watched her for a moment, and then, with that look that always seemed to go beyond what words said, added:

“You’re turning red, you know?”

Y/n’s eyes widened a bit more, surprised by Pamela’s directness, but all she could do was laugh at herself.

“Well, it’s just that, I’m not really used to… this.”

“This?” Pamela repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Sharing coffee with someone or bats?”

“Both,” Y/n admitted, shrugging, which provoked another smile from Pamela. “I always wanted one as a pet… but I have a vegan little brother who’s very… spooky… so I’ve always been afraid he’d steal it from me or accuse me of having exotic pets.”

Pamela settled into the chair, not taking her eyes off Y/n.

“But you’ll get used to it,” she paused, letting her words float calmly.

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of nerves and a spark of something she couldn’t quite define. Pamela’s dark coat and relaxed smile were a disconcerting yet strangely familiar contrast, as if they had always been there, waiting for her. And suddenly, all she could do was wonder how soon that would happen… getting used to it.

“Although I can’t promise my apartment isn’t… a battlefield,” Y/n said, trying to sound confident, but noticing the slight tremor in her voice.

Pamela looked at her intently for a moment, with that mix of flirtation and something deeper, something that seemed impossible to decipher completely. Then she relaxed in the chair, as if the game had just begun.

“A battlefield, huh?” she said, playing with the spoon of her coffee. “Well, I like challenges. And chaotic places have their own charm if you know where to look.” Pamela let the phrase slide smoothly, like someone throwing a stone into a lake and waiting for the ripples.

Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that every word Pamela spoke carried a double meaning, but far from making her feel uncomfortable, it sparked something akin to contained laughter, as if they were sharing a private joke that she was just beginning to access.

“Don’t you have plants at home?” Pamela suddenly asked, as if the question had sprung from the foam of her coffee.

“Well, there are a couple of cacti… and a fern that I think hates me,” Y/n replied. “But I always forget to water them. Or I overwater them. Seriously, it’s like plants come to me already doomed.”

Pamela smiled, one of those slow smiles that seem to grow little by little, like a sprout deciding when the perfect moment to emerge into the light is.

“It’s not just about water, Y/n,” she said, with that voice that seemed to carry the calm of the wind and the weight of centuries of nature. “Plants need attention. Patience. Sometimes they just want to know you’re there, even if you don’t say anything.” She paused, letting Y/n’s gaze get lost in her eyes. “Sometimes, like people.”

Y/n felt a little shiver. It wasn’t what Pamela was saying, but how she was saying it. There was something in her voice that disarmed her, as if every word had been calculated to penetrate a defense that Y/n hadn’t even realized she had up. And then, almost without thinking, she let slip a truth she rarely shared.

“I’m not very good with people.” The confession came out of her mouth before she could stop it. She said it without drama, almost as if she were talking about the weather. But something in Pamela changed, barely perceptible, like a leaf moving without the wind touching it.

“Really?” Pamela asked softly, but without an ounce of pity. Just curiosity.

Y/n looked down for a moment, fiddling with the edge of her cup, before daring to continue.

“I grew up in a huge house, but… empty. My father… well, he was busy with his things. Business, parties, the usual. Shrugging it off, wanting to downplay it, even though inside she knew it wasn’t something that could easily fade away. Alfred, the butler, raised me. And yes, he was amazing. But it was always just him and no one else. It’s not the same as having… friends.”

Pamela listened in silence, but not in that awkward way where people listen just to see how you respond afterward. No, there was something in her attention that enveloped Y/n, as if she were giving her space to bare herself without fear of being judged.

“You never had friends,” Pamela asserted more than asked.

Y/n shook her head.

“Until now,” Pamela said, with that same softness that seemed to have become her trademark, and something in Y/n’s chest stirred, as if she had just heard the most important thing in the world.

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a silence that somehow connected them. And then Pamela broke the spell, with a mischievous smile that lit everything up again.

“So… are you going to let me be your first friend, or would you rather keep killing plants?”

Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, a sincere and liberating laugh, as if something inside her had broken an invisible chain. After all, it was clear that Pamela wasn’t just another person passing through her life. There was something different about her, something that made the air feel lighter, that made the future seem less uncertain.

“Well, if you can survive the cactus…” Y/n said, leaving the sentence unfinished, but knowing Pamela would understand.

And then, for the first time in a long time, Y/n felt that everything might be okay. That maybe, just maybe, Pamela Isley wasn’t just a roommate, but the first person in a long time with whom she could imagine a less lonely future. She was already caught in that web, and the worst, or perhaps the best part, was that she didn’t care at all.

Bruce Wayne was sitting in the mansion's garden on a gray afternoon that seemed to drag memories along like the wind drags fallen leaves. In his hands, a cup of black coffee, still steaming, its strong and bitter aroma mingling with the scent of damp earth after the rain. In front of him, on a small wrought-iron table, rested a piece of dark chocolate cake topped with melting strawberry ice cream, forming a pink puddle around it. But he found no pleasure in the view. It was more of a bitter symbol of a routine he once believed unbreakable.

In the garden, where the wilted flowers swayed gently, a little girl flitted about with contagious energy, as if the chill of the afternoon did not exist for her. Her laughter, so innocent and pure, filled the air, breaking the sepulchral silence that seemed to reign in that old home for a moment. She wore a pink dress with small white dots, an 80s style that would have been charming in another time but now seemed out of place with the scene. Her patent leather shoes shone as she ran back and forth, chasing her dolls.

In her small hands, she held action figures, one of the Batman her father portrayed and another of the Joker, his eternal rival. The girl, no older than six, organized her battles with adorable seriousness. In a high-pitched, mischievous voice, she brought the characters to life, staging an epic duel between hero and villain.

“You won’t defeat me this time, Batman!” she exclaimed, raising the Joker figure with a malevolent laugh.

“I will stop you! I always do...” she replied with her other hand, giving voice to Batman, but with a childlike touch that contrasted with the darkness of the character.

Bruce watched the scene with a mix of tenderness and pain. He knew she wasn’t really there, that this vision was nothing more than a distant echo of what never was. Y/n, his little Y/n, had vanished months ago. And he… he had never given her the love she deserved, always wrapped in his own shadows, in his endless struggle to protect a city that never rested.

The air felt thick, heavy with nostalgia and regret. The girl continued to play, laughing, talking to her dolls, oblivious to the weight of the years, to the loss. And Bruce, although he knew it was an illusion, couldn’t look away; he couldn’t stop imagining what it would have been like to give her what he never knew how to offer. What it would have been like to see her grow, to laugh more, to run through those gardens with the carefree spirit only childhood allows.

Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps interrupted the daydream. Alfred appeared at the garden entrance, always elegant, always with that air of discretion and understanding that only he possessed. He approached slowly, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder as if he understood the pain that kept him trapped in that scene.

“Mr. Wayne” he said in a low voice, filled with compassion, “it’s time to come back.”

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, letting Alfred’s words seep into his consciousness. He knew what they meant. He knew that girl, in her 80s dress and her dolls, was nothing but an idealized memory, a distorted reflection of what never was. Because Y/n wasn’t like that. She didn’t like those old dresses; she had always preferred the fashion of the 2000s, with its vibrant colors and comfortable clothes. And she never enjoyed the chocolate cake now sitting in front of him. She liked carrot cake, simple and sweet, but he had never paid attention to those details when he still could.

How did he know those little details about his daughter? Bruce often wondered. It wasn’t because he had learned them by being close, because proximity had been a luxury he never allowed himself. No, those small fragments of her life he had discovered in the album that Alfred kept with an almost reverential discretion. That album was more than just an object; it was a silent refuge where Alfred had archived what the big house, always filled with shadows and echoes of footsteps that never came, had refused to hold.

The day the children learned of the album’s existence marked the beginning of a chaos he still remembered with a mix of exasperation and a contained smile. They had decided, like little conspirators, that treasure belonged to them. A kind of all-out battle had ensued in the mansion, something that over time acquired the quality of family legends.

Bruce, standing in the study, could still see the sparkle in Damian’s eyes, the intensity, the almost playful fury with which he had taken that assault as a personal mission. Damian, with his perpetual impatience, had been the fiercest of all. He vividly remembered how his youngest son had burst into the room wielding two katanas, with the cold precision of a millennia-old warrior, even though his hands were still too small to fully grasp the handles.

“It’s mine!” Damian shouted, with that mix of stubbornness and vulnerability that only the youngest possess, as if he could cut not only the air but the very uncomfortable silence that always floated between them.

“It belongs to all of us, Damian” Bruce had tried to intervene, with that authoritative voice that, curiously, never managed to control his own children as he did with the chaos of the city.

But Damian wasn’t listening. For him, the album was not just an object; it was a relic, a bridge to something he felt but couldn’t name. His sister Y/n, so distant in daily life, was closer in those pages than in any superficial conversation they had ever had. She was his sister, but not enough. He wanted those photos, those notes that Alfred had kept, he wanted to understand what it was about her that slipped away from him daily.

Bruce watched from the threshold, not really intervening. He let the chaos unfold, as if it were necessary. The children fought, but it wasn’t just for the album. They fought for something deeper, a kind of silent reclamation of what they had never been able to have: time, connection, perhaps even love. Alfred, from a corner, merely smiled with that quiet wisdom, knowing that those battles of childish katanas, of shouts and disputes over photos and notes, were actually the way they tried to find each other in a house full of absences.

Bruce sighed, remembering. Alfred had always known more than he did, always understood those invisible things that Bruce, no matter how much he wanted to, could never quite grasp. And so it was that he himself, at the end of it all, also ended up snooping in that album, with a silent curiosity he would never admit. There, in those carefully tended pages, he found his daughter. Or at least, he found the idea of her, the pieces of a life he hadn’t shared but that, somehow, had always been present in those photos, in those little notes that Alfred, more of a father than he was, had kept with such love.

“She won’t come back, Alfred... I lost her... maybe forever... ” Bruce murmured, his voice barely audible, as if admitting it aloud would make her absence more real—“and I… I was never there for her as I should have been.”

The old butler sighed, his tired eyes filled with infinite patience.

“It’s never too late to remember, sir. It’s never too late to honor her memory in the right way.”

Bruce opened his eyes, looking again at the scene, but this time more clearly. The girl had disappeared.

The wind blew gently through the Wayne mansion's garden, carrying away the murmur of the dry leaves. Bruce remained motionless, as if the weight of the years, of the mistakes, had turned him into another statue in that landscape. The aroma of coffee had dissipated, and the cake before him remained untouched. Y/n’s figure still floated in his mind, her laughter like a distant echo that wouldn’t fade but also wouldn’t console him.

Alfred, with the patience only a father at heart could have, stood by his side, his firm hand on Bruce’s shoulder, as if in that gesture he could transmit strength to face the pain that gnawed at him.

“Mr. Wayne” Alfred began, his voice soft but laden with meaning, “the kids have gone looking for Y/n again.”

Bruce closed his eyes, allowing those words to sink into his consciousness. He knew all the Robins and Batgirls had been following leads, searching for answers in the darkest corners of Gotham, but the emptiness he felt remained overwhelming. They had failed so many times… what did another attempt matter? The city, always hungry for its heroes, seemed more a trap than a cause.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Alfred” Bruce replied, his voice rough, worn down by years of struggle. “None of this will change what happened. Y/n… is gone.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Alfred interjected, this time with a firmer tone, “Y/n is still out there. And as long as there’s a single chance to find her, you cannot allow yourself to give up.”

Silence stretched between them. Bruce’s gaze remained fixed on some point in the garden, lost in thought. But Alfred, with his usual insight, knew he needed more than empty words to awaken him.

“There’s something else,” Alfred added, taking a breath, “a new figure appeared last night during a robbery in the East District. They call her Kerosene. The White Bat. She was seen taking out a group of assailants in seconds.”

Bruce didn’t react. Kerosene. The city had always generated figures willing to fill the void he had left every time he stepped away, every time Gotham lost the light of its vigilante. But this time, he didn’t feel the urgency to learn more. What did it matter? He repeated to himself. Gotham already had its heroes.

“I don’t care” he murmured, his voice empty, as cold as the air surrounding the garden—“Let others deal with Gotham. Kerosene, the Joker, or whoever… the city doesn’t need me anymore.”

Alfred tightened his grip on Bruce’s shoulder, almost like a father refusing to see his son give up. He stepped forward, and this time his voice was lower but more incisive.

“This isn’t about Gotham, sir,” he said with an intensity Bruce hadn’t expected—“It’s about Y/n.”

Bruce lifted his gaze, his eyes finally meeting Alfred’s, as if those words had ignited a spark within him.

“If you don’t want to protect this city, do it for her ” Alfred continued—“Because you will find her, sir. I’m sure of it. And when you do… how would you want her to find you? Destroyed? Defeated? No. You need to be ready, you need to be strong, for her. Wherever she is, Y/n is still waiting for her father.”

Bruce felt the pain in his chest intensify, a constant reminder of his failure, but Alfred was right. Y/n was somewhere out there. Alive or not, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that as long as he didn’t find her, he couldn’t give up.

“The kids have done everything they can to find her,” Alfred said, softening his tone—“They’re still at it. Every day they search for new leads, explore new corners of Gotham… but there’s only one man who can put everything in order. There’s only one father who can bring her back.”

The air tensed between them, and for the first time in a long time, Bruce felt a slight tremor inside. He remembered the moment he decided to become Batman, driven by the guilt and pain of losing his parents. Now, that same guilt, that same pain, called to him again, but this time, it wasn’t for Gotham. It was for Y/n. His daughter.

“Tell me, Alfred, who is this Kerosene?” Bruce murmured, finally reacting to the information Alfred had given him.

“Yes, sir. Her abilities are astonishing, according to reports. Agile, fast… but her true identity remains a mystery. Some say she’s just another vigilante trying to fill the void you left. But the important thing is that she is acting with lethal precision.”

Bruce stood slowly, leaving the cup of coffee on the table, already cold and forgotten. He looked at the empty garden, but this time, with a new determination blooming in his chest.

“If this Kerosene is connected… if there’s any link to Y/n, I will find out,” he said, his voice firmer, closer to the one Alfred had known for so many years—“And if not… then I’ll find her myself.”

Alfred nodded, a mix of relief and satisfaction reflected on his face. He had managed to awaken the man Gotham needed, but more than that, he had awakened the father Y/n deserved.

“ Very well, sir,he replied with a slight smile, always the unwavering servant—“The Batcave is ready for your return.”

Bruce turned toward the mansion, but not before glancing once more at the garden, where Y/n’s figure, so real in his mind, faded like morning mist.

Wherever you are, I will find you.

Richard “Dick” Grayson knocked forcefully on the old apartment door, the echo resonating in the narrow hallway of the building, where dust gathered in the corners like forgotten memories and the lights flickered as if trying to perform one last dance before going out. Beside him, Barbara Gordon, the commissioner's daughter, crossed her arms, staring at the door with an intensity that could have splintered the wood.

Jason Todd, restless to his left, kept his gaze fixed on the doorknob, his body tense, as if each passing second brought him one step closer to breaking through that wooden barrier. Above, on the roof, Red Robin, The Spoiler, and Batgirl waited, shadows in a world that seemed to ignore their pounding hearts, ready to act.

“I don’t know why we always have to deal with the worst specimens of humanity,” Barbara murmured, adjusting her coat as she shot a sidelong glance at Dick, who seemed to have a plan in mind.

“Because we’re lucky,” Jason replied, sarcasm lacing his words, a crooked smile on his lips that didn’t quite fit the situation. “And when I say ‘lucky,’ I mean we’re carrying someone else's karma because we… are screwed.”

Dick knocked on the door again, this time with more force. The echo reverberated through the hallways, a declaration of intent.

“We should break it down. You know it’s not going to open just from a gentle knock,” Jason said, stepping forward, his intention clear and palpable.

“Calm down, Jason. Not all problems are solved with violence,” Barbara retorted, though a part of her knew that idea faded every time they found themselves in a situation like this.

“Sure, as if we have another option. Do you want me to schedule a tea date instead of kicking down the door?” Jason frowned, the tension palpable.

Finally, a sound came from behind the door. Chains, the metallic echo of locks being unlatched with a maddening slowness, as if someone on the other side knew that every second of wait was boiling the blood of the three standing before the door. At last, the door opened just enough to reveal a face: the landlord. A short man with small eyes and a slimy smile that seemed to ooze like dirty oil through his yellowed teeth.

“What do you want?” he asked in a thick voice, looking at Dick with suspicion, but his gaze soon dropped to Barbara, lingering unpleasantly on her figure, and then to Jason, who had already tensed the muscles in his jaw.

“We’re looking for Y/n Wayne L/n,” Dick said, trying to maintain his composure, the heat of anger threatening to overflow. “We know she lives here. And we know you know where she is.”

The man let out a laugh under his breath, a rusty squeak that resonated like a heavy joke.

“Ah, the pretty girl… yeah, yeah. And who are you all, huh?” he asked, his slimy tone sending chills that seemed to crawl over Dick's skin.

“It’s none of your concern. We just want to know where she is,” Barbara said, her voice firm and resolute, although the tension in her body betrayed her impatience.

The landlord tilted his head, like a cat playing with its prey, and smiled with a disturbing mischief.

“Well, if you haven’t found her in five months, maybe you don’t want to know,” he said, letting the words drop like stones in a pond, creating ripples of discomfort.

“I warn you, this isn’t a game,” Jason interjected, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t make me remind you what can happen when a man plays with fire.”

The man shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, although the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Jason's hand rested near his belt, right where he kept his gun, and although he hadn’t drawn the weapon yet, the threat was clear.

The landlord noticed but instead of being scared, he wore a repugnant smile, like a predator that had just spotted a wounded prey. His gaze shifted back to Barbara, and then, without the slightest respect, murmured something that made Dick’s fists clench.

“Ah, Y/n... yeah, I remember her. She came around when she had just turned eighteen. Good material, if you catch my drift. She looked innocent, but... those are the most interesting ones, right?” The man's gaze darkened, scanning Barbara again, as if evaluating merchandise.

“Say that again,” Jason growled, drawing his gun in a motion so quick that the landlord barely had time to blink before feeling the cold barrel pressed against his forehead. “And I swear I’ll blow your brains out right here.”

The words hung in the air, sharp, loaded with contempt and a lust that twisted like a snake inside him.

The man let out a cynical chuckle, relishing the moment.

“The last time I saw pretty Y/n was a while back. I don’t know what she’s up to now, but I kept some pictures of her and her friend.” His tone was defiant, almost mocking.

Rage was bubbling in Jason. His fists were clenched, a deadly spark in his eyes.

“What did you say?” His voice trembled between anger and control, like a string about to snap.

The landlord, feeling invincible, continued. “I don’t know if they’re lesbians, but seeing them together was quite the spectacle. Both of them were hot, you know?”

Jason could no longer hold back. The anger erupted like a volcano.

“Shut up!” he shouted, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the tense silence that had invaded the room.

Before the landlord could react, Jason pulled his gun, aiming with precision.

“I’m going to give you one chance. Tell me where Y/n is. Now.”

The man’s laughter faded, his eyes widening in shock. “Wait, wait, there’s no need to…”

“WHERE?!” Jason's voice thundered, firm and filled with rage, like a storm rumbling in the atmosphere.

The tension became palpable, the air thick with promises of violence.

“Alright, alright!” the landlord stammered, but Jason’s voice turned even colder.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“She just left for work at night and that’s it…” he started to say, but Jason could no longer hear. The man had photos of Y/n. Compromising, crude, and that simple mention ignited hell in his chest.

In an instant, the sound of an explosion resonated in the hallway, and the man fell to the ground, his silly smile erased by the terror that had overtaken his face. Blood gushed forth in a dark torrent, staining the floor and nearby walls.

Barbara covered her mouth in shock, while Dick stood frozen, stunned.

“Jason!” she exclaimed, but the image of the landlord lying on the ground with his vacant stare was etched in her mind.

Jason holstered the weapon, his breath rapid and uncontrolled. He had crossed a line, and in that moment, he realized there was no turning back. Anger had found a way to break free, but at a terrible cost.

“I won’t let anyone hurt Y/n again,” he murmured, his eyes filled with determination. No one else would stand in his way to find her, no matter the price he had to pay.

The room was saturated with the echo of the gunshot, and the silence grew heavy, almost palpable. Barbara took a deep breath, the anger sparking in her eyes as she looked at Jason, who still seemed dazed by the act he had committed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she said, her voice contained but sharp as a blade. “That’s why we didn’t bring Damian along, because he would have gone off just the same, but in a much more reckless way.” Her gaze fixed on the corpse, lying in a pool of blood, a scene that could have come from the mind of a disturbed artist.

Jason, with his chest heaving and jaw clenched, simply shrugged.

“I couldn’t just stand by. He knew something, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away.” The fervor in his voice didn’t hide the confusion that was beginning to seep in, like the cold of the night creeping through the windows.

Barbara didn’t respond, but the silence that filled the room grew even denser when the others entered, alarmed by the gunshot. Tim, Stephanie, and Cass arrived, their expressions filled with concern that quickly transformed into indignation.

“What happened here?” Tim asked, his eyes widening at the scene. Blood slid across the floor like a dark river, and the landlord’s body faded beneath the flickering light.

“Are you crazy, Jason?!” Steph exclaimed, disbelief palpable in her voice.

Cass crouched down, her expression grave as she looked at the fallen man. She didn’t need to speak to convey her disapproval; every glance said more than a thousand words.

“It doesn’t matter how we got here,” Dick intervened, his authoritative tone trying to restore order. “We need answers. Let’s investigate.”

With a determined movement, Barbara approached the body, while Jason still breathed irregularly, as if the weight of his actions began to settle on him. Barbara looked around; the apartment was a dusty and sad place, filled with shadows that seemed to whisper secrets.

As the others searched, Tim found a series of photos pinned to the walls, each one showing Y/n and other women from the area, frozen laughter in time, trapped between moments that should have been happy. However, there was something unsettling about the way they were arranged, a disorder that seemed a declaration of possession.

“Look at this,” Tim said, pointing to the images. There was Y/n, always smiling, but next to her was a figure that couldn’t be ignored. The silhouette of Pamela Isley, better known as Poison Ivy, stood beside her, her red hair like a fire that seemed to consume the sadness of the place.

“Pamela…” Cass murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “She’s been in Arkham for three months.”

Barbara moved closer, examining the photos more closely. “This is more complicated than we thought. Ivy has been involved, and that changes everything.”

Jason, still trying to comprehend the chaos he had unleashed, ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find Y/n. I don’t care what I have to do.”

Barbara looked at him, her expression one of challenge but also understanding. “We can’t do this recklessly. We have to be smart. Silent.”

The group nodded, realizing that the road ahead would be filled with dangers, but also promises of redemption. They were all willing to kill for Y/n, but they had to do it quietly, like shadows slipping through the streets at night.

“Listen, we’re going to find her,” Dick said, his voice resonating like a mantra. “No matter how many doors we have to break down, how many truths we have to drag into the light.”

And so, in the echo of the silence that followed the violence, the five united in a tacit pact, intertwining their destinies in the search for Y/n. Each lost in their thoughts, each remembering that shadows sometimes have the power to conceal not only secrets but also the light that clings to hope.

The shadows stretched as they moved away from the apartment, leaving behind the vestige of a dead man and the echo of trapped laughter. The search had begun, and Y/n’s fate hung in the balance, a thread of light in the darkness that promised to bloom amid the ruins of despair.

The city lights flickered in the distance, like lost stars in the asphalt.

The tears of Y/n fell onto the slippery ground, forming puddles that blended with the blood, a dark ruby staining every part of her thin body, as if sins were being tattooed onto her skin. The humidity of the place smelled of iron and fear, of broken promises and a destiny she had chosen but didn’t quite know how to accept.

“It doesn’t feel good, little one?” said the Doctor, his voice a bitter whisper echoing off the damp walls of the room. He, with his dirty blonde hair falling messily over his forehead, wore a white coat that looked more like a rag than a symbol of authority. A cynical smile spread across his lips, revealing teeth that seemed sharper than the fate he had designed for her. “Bathing in the blood of enemies, isn’t it an exquisite pleasure?”

Y/n, her gaze lost at a point on the floor, nodded slowly, as if each movement cost her an eternity. The blood, warm and sticky, slid between her fingers, a sensory experience that drowned her in contradictions. On one hand, there was a dark delight in the power that image conferred upon her, a power she had learned to wield. But on the other hand, there was an abyss of pain threatening to consume her.

“It’s…” she whispered, barely able to form words. Her voice trembled like a leaf in autumn, indecision etched in her features. Guilt suffocated her, and each tear that fell was a reminder of what she had lost, of what she had left behind.

“What is it?” asked the Doctor, leaning toward her, his eyes lit by a glow that was not exactly compassion, but rather a cruel satisfaction. His gaze seemed to pierce through the layers of her being, scrutinizing the dark corners of her soul. “Is it pleasure you feel, or is it fear?”

Y/n recoiled, feeling her skin burn under his gaze. The Doctor’s words tangled in her mind, forming a knot that seemed impossible to untie. Her voice, almost a cry for help, resonated in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain.” The words shot out like arrows, but only managed to embed their tips in the empty air, finding no destination. She trembled, caught between repulsion and the desire to free herself from the invisible chains that kept her anchored in that place.

The Doctor let out a cold laugh, as if he were enjoying the spectacle unfolding before him. With a careless gesture, he threw another bucket of blood onto the floor, creating a small puddle that slid toward Y/n.

“That is the beauty of your situation, my dear. You have been chosen to cleanse Gotham of the scum, and along the way, you will discover that pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin.”

“Chosen?” replied Y/n, her voice shaking with the fierce mix of disbelief and rage. “Chosen for what? To be your puppet?”

The Doctor stepped closer, letting the distance between them fade. His presence was oppressive, like a shadow that swallowed light.

“You are not a puppet, Kerosene” he said, pronouncing her name as if caressing it. “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution. The tears that fall now are the ashes of the old you, and it’s time you embrace what awaits you.”

Y/n felt the air grow dense, as if the Doctor’s words were trying to envelop her, to convince her. But there was a truth in his voice, an echo of what she had longed for deep within her being. Hadn’t she been searching for purpose, a place to belong?

“No… I don’t want to be what you’ve made me.” she said, though her voice sounded more hesitant than determined. It was as if reality slipped around her, like the slippery ground she stood on.

“Of course you do, Y/n.” He smiled, and there was something unsettling in that smile, something that made her feel she was on the brink of a revelation. “Your pain is the echo of the city, and you, little one, can be its savior.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, and Y/n felt herself teetering on the edge of the abyss, the possibility of becoming Kerosene, the force of vengeance and power. She fought against the idea, but there was a part of her that was beginning to awaken, to open like a flower in the desert.

“So, what do I have to do?” she asked, finally facing the reality that surrounded her. The tears, instead of being a sign of weakness, now seemed a recognition of her new identity.

The Doctor looked at her with a mix of satisfaction and complicity, like a teacher who sees the spark of greatness in his student.

“First, you must accept that the past does not define your future. The blood that surrounds you is only the first step toward freedom. Become what you have always been. Your destiny is to burn, and in doing so, illuminate others.”

Y/n felt the weight of her decision slowly fading away. By accepting her destiny, she had found a new way to free herself, a purpose that shone like fire.

“Then I will do it.” she said, her voice now firm and resonant, as if she were finally embracing the darkness that had always dwelled within her. “I will be Kerosene.”

The Doctor smiled, and in that smile lay a world of possibilities. Together, they could shake the foundations of Gotham.

“That’s right, my dear Kerosene.” He stepped back, allowing his figure to fade into the shadows..“And remember, every decision you make will be a step toward glory or toward downfall. The line is thin, and you are destined to cross it.”

“What about them?” Y/n asked, pointing to the shadows surrounding her, referring to the Waynes who remained silent in their luxurious prison of silence. “Where is Batman?”

The Doctor paused, his gaze turning serious and contemplative.

“Since your appearance, the Waynes have become shadows of what they once were. Batman has vanished, as if fear has locked him in his own game. They don’t want you to know the truth, and I wonder if, deep down, he fears what you are capable of.”

“Fears?” repeated Y/n, incredulity splattering her voice like a rain of dead stars. “Why?”

“Because the truth is that there is no longer space for the good in this city.” The Doctor stepped closer, his tone low but filled with fervor. “Soon you will go after the Court of Owls. We will expose those monsters in the streets, as they deserve, and they will have no one to defend them. Not even their beloved bat.”

A chill ran down Y/n's spine. The idea of stepping out into the night, of facing the villains who had ravaged her city, filled her with a strange power. She remembered Pamela, laughing amidst the shadows, her voice like an echo urging her to fight.

“I will not be their puppet. I do not want to be a pawn in a bigger game.” The words erupted from her with the force of an approaching storm, and the vision of Pamela dancing among the flowers filled her with a sudden sweetness.

“You will not be a pawn, Kerosene.” The Doctor smiled, and in his eyes was an air of admiration. “You are the queen in this game. Your vengeance will not only bring down those villains, but it will also seek the man behind the mask of Batman. We need to end him.”

“End him?” The question hung in the air like a trembling whisper. Her heart stopped for an instant, remembering the nights spent with Batman, the unspoken words, the caresses of an absent father.

“Yes. Because he, like them, has become a legend that needs to fall.”

Y/n felt the darkness looming over her, a shadow whispering promises of power and pain. But there was something more, a spark igniting within her, a fire burning with the strength of a new dawn.

“Then I will do it.” said Y/n, her voice resonating with a clarity that surprised her. “I will expose the Court of Owls and make my father see.”

The Doctor watched Y/n with palpable satisfaction, as if he had finally ignited a spark deep within her being. With a gesture of his hand, he made the invisible shackles that kept her trapped fade away. In that moment, a strange freedom slipped over her skin, a freedom laden with dark responsibility.

“Come, Kerosene.” he said, his voice now a hypnotic chant rising among the shadows. “There is something you need to see.”

He led her through a labyrinth of damp hallways, each step resonating like an echo of past decisions. The walls seemed to whisper forgotten secrets, tales of those who had fallen into the abyss before her. As they advanced, the light of day faded, and the gloom became an accomplice to their thoughts.

Finally, they reached the balcony of the building, a place where time had stopped its march. The Doctor gently pushed Y/n toward the railing, forcing her to look out over the vast expanse of Gotham that stretched before them. The city was a canvas of flickering lights and deep shadows, a portrait of intertwined chaos and order.

“Look, little one.” the Doctor whispered, his voice wrapping around her like a veil of mystery. “This is your city, a monster that feeds on the secrets you hold in your chest. The blood that stains your skin is a symbol of the struggle that lies ahead.”

Y/n leaned over the edge of the balcony, feeling the cold wind caress her bare skin. The city glimmered like a sea of dying stars, each light a story, each shadow a whisper of betrayal. The vision enveloped her, and for a moment, she felt like a spectator of her own destiny.

Her bare skin, still stained with blood, prickled at the chill of Gotham, a freezing breeze sneaking through the cracks of crumbling buildings, as if the city itself reminded her that she was alive, that darkness embraced her with its mantle of forgetfulness and despair. Each small contact of the air made her more aware of her vulnerability, and at the same time, of the power that blossomed from within her. It was a reminder that, amidst chaos, she was the spark of a new flame.

The puddles of blood that had stained her skin, silent witnesses to her transformation, shone like a dark ruby under the dim light of the moon. In that moment, each drop was an echo of past decisions, a symbol of the life she had left behind. And yet, in her mind, the Doctor's words echoed: “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution.” The irony of her state wrapped her in a sweet and bitter confusion; deep down, her nakedness felt like a release.

The city stretched before her, a vast ocean of twinkling lights and lurking shadows. Gotham, in its complexity, seemed to breathe, a living being pulsing with stories of pain and longing. The streetlights flickered as if about to go out, and Y/n felt that each flicker was a whisper calling her, a reminder that she was destined to be part of something much larger than herself.

As she gazed at the horizon, her mind filled with images: the faces of those she had lost, those she had loved, and those she had to confront. Her heart wrestled between the desire for vengeance and the longing for redemption.

“What do you see?” asked the Doctor, his eyes shining with an unsettling intensity.

“I see…” Y/n began, but the words slipped away like sand through her fingers. The city was a labyrinth of emotions, a stage where pain and pleasure intertwined in a macabre dance. It was a reflection of her own internal struggle, her desire for vengeance and her yearning for redemption.

“I see a sea of shadows, a stage where illusions collapse like houses of cards.” she finally replied, her voice echoing. “Each light, a hope; each shadow, a whisper of unhappiness.”

“Perfect.” The Doctor smiled, his face illuminated by an almost fraternal satisfaction. “Gotham is a mirror, and you are the light that can break the darkness. You must be able to see beyond what shines.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, tearing through the veil of confusion that enveloped her. In that instant, Y/n understood that every tear shed had fed the city, that every drop of blood on her hands was an echo of what she had lost. And yet, vengeance offered her a new purpose, a path into the unknown.

“The city cries for change, for a fire to purify it” she whispered, her voice gaining strength in the night breeze. “And I… I am that fire.”

“That’s right, dear.” The Doctor nodded, a mix of pride and malice in his expression. “The fire that will purify Gotham and, in its wake, consume everything that stands in your way.”

Y/n felt the air fill with electricity, a palpable current connecting her to the city, to its pain and desire. Deep within her, something began to change. She was no longer just a puppet; she was no longer merely the shadow of her past. She was Kerosene, the spark that would ignite the flame of change.

“But, Doctor, what about those who love the darkness?” she asked, her voice now an echo of what she had learned. “What if they cling to their shadow?”

The Doctor stepped closer to her, his penetrating gaze filled with complicity.

“Darkness is a possessive lover, but there is always a price to pay. The truth is that they cannot hold onto it forever. And when the fire burns, only those ready to be reborn will be saved.”

Y/n felt a mixture of anguish and determination. The city before her became a symbol of her internal struggle, a stage where light and shadow intertwined in an eternal game. Every street, every building, every corner whispered her name in a song of warning and challenge.

“And when the fire consumes everything in its path, will there be anything left of me?” she asked, her voice trembling with the fragility of a leaf in the wind.

The Doctor smiled, a smile that seemed to mock the questions still dancing in her mind.

“Perhaps, dear Kerosene, you will find yourself in the act of burning. Or maybe, you will fade into the ash. That is the enigma of transformation: in the fire, death is merely the prelude to a new beginning.”

As she gazed at the city, Y/n felt her identity fragment and fuse, in an endless cycle of creation and destruction. The image of Gotham before her became a metaphor for the human soul, a reflection of the struggles everyone faced in the darkness. The city, with its chaos and its heartbreaking beauty, enveloped her like a hug.

With one last look at the flickering lights and lurking shadows, Y/n stepped back, a firm decision rising within her.

“There’s no turning back now” she murmured, her voice an echo of her new reality. “I will be the fire that illuminates this eternal night.”

The Doctor, with a gesture of approval, retreated into the shadows, leaving her alone in her revelation. As the city spread before her, a mantle of mystery and power, Y/n knew that the true journey was just beginning. The line between fire and ash was thin, and in her chest burned the certainty that by crossing it, nothing would ever be the same.

“So be it, Kerosene” she said to herself as the wind enveloped her in secret whispers. “Let the fire speak in your name and let the night receive your lament.”

And looking at Gotham, she understood that, in the end, her destiny was not merely to be a spectator, but an unstoppable force, a storm that would unleash chaos. And so, with her heart beating to the rhythm of the city, she prepared to embrace her truth, her fire.

☆

A/N — Here is the long-awaited third part of this series. Thank you for all the support and love you have given me. I decided to make this part longer (at the cost of not being able to include the last image :( ) so that you can enjoy it more.

I was reading your comments where you were asking if Y/n and the Doctor would have a romance (which horrifies me a bit :d, but it gave me an idea) or if he performed a lobotomy on her. Well, that will be answered in the next part or in a headcanon, whatever you ask me.

By the way, in the tag list, there are some users I couldn't add, sorry about that 😔. I really appreciate your understanding and patience. Your enthusiasm keeps me motivated to keep creating and sharing these stories. I hope you find this installment engaging and that it brings you the excitement and emotions you’ve come to expect from the series. Enjoy!

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @imnotdumbimstupif @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @sheepintherain @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @kiarst @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)

I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.

It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time

tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b

When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.

It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆

Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!

I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.

The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.

Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.

And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.

“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.

“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”

“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.

Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”

“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”

Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”

Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.

Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”

“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.

“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”

Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”

Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”

Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.

What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.

“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.

“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”

He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.

"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.

“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."

Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”

“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”

He sighed, “I’m not.”

Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”

He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”

“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.

Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.

With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.

With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.

His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.

His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”

This is ridiculous.

Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.

Nothing.

"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.

He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.

He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.

Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.

After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.

So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.

It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.

Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.

In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.

But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.

Still.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.

He held his breath, unconsciously.

With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.

"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."

Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.

Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.

But today, they were soft and out of focus.

"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.

"Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."

"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.

Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.

"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."

He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"

You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.

"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.

A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.

“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.

“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.

You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”

His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.

"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.

"When was your last time, mon cher?"

Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."

"You're in hell now."

"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.

"Look at me."

Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.

With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.

Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.

He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?

Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.

He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."

Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.

He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.

A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.

"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.

He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.

No.

Not enough.

Too soon.

A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.

He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.

When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.

Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.

He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.

"My doe?"

Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"

"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."

The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.

"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.

Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"

Suddenly, silence.

The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"

"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.

"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.

"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"

Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.

"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"

"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."

"Yet..." She cocked her brow.

"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."

Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"

"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.

She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"

His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."

He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.

But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?

"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."

Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.

For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.

To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.

He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.

Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.

The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.

One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.

You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.

And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.

Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.

He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.

When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”

༻Masterlist༺

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'i'm sorry' - logan x gn!reader

summary: logan would never hurt you, but in his nightmares he's often not able to control his claws - he's hurt you, the one thing he never wanted to do. (1k) tags: vivid descriptions of nightmares, war, slight blood, vague mention of suicidal thoughts, reader comforts logan, traumatised logan, hurt/comfort, angsty, established relationship, for the 'claws' prompt for logan promptober.

his dreams are seldom peaceful, even with you by his side. it's war, it's blood, it's loss. it's the same every damn night.

the visions drag him under, flashes of bright light, the rattle of ricocheting bullets, comrades screaming his name, pleading to the man who survives it all yet prays to god for it to end.

he's snarling, trapped, cornered like prey. he's a warrior, a soldier, a brother, aimed like a gun and twice as deadly. he's seen bloodshed, seen victory, stared death in the eye and watched it walk away. all claws and teeth, anger flowing like a steady river with no clear purpose.

it's not real, he tries to remind himself, yet it is, it was. it was once all he knew.

a scream and it fades away to black, his voice piercing the very fabric of his nightmare, dragging him back to reality. his claws are extended, ready, primed. it's an all too familiar feeling, but one he has never grown used to, waking up like this.

it's then you come into his view as if suddenly appearing, perched on the edge of the bed cradling your arm. your eyes are wide, your rate of breathing matching his quickened pace. logan is disorientated, one foot planted in reality and the other firmly stuck in his dream. it's not until the crimson-red liquid begins to drip along the length of your arm that he realises what he's done.

no.

"it's okay," you reassure him quickly though your voice shakes as you see the colour drain from his face, "baby, you didn't mean it, it's okay."

but he's already tearing himself apart, guilt eating him alive and spitting him back out. how many times does he have to learn this lesson before he locks himself away like he should? how many people is he going to hurt in a blind haze?

you can tell by the look on his face that he's falling apart, purposefully beating himself up inside that metal skull of his. "hey," you whisper, inching closer - but he flinches backwards.

"n. . . no," logan barks and shakes his head, "stay away, i. . ."

it breaks your heart to see him this way, he'd never hurt you intentionally. though he's known so much violence, he treats you with the tenderness only a man who's known loss can provide. you know he's not a monster, not the one he's told he is, not the one they built him to be.

"it's alright, logan," you whisper softly, inching closer, "you didn't mean it, i know that - it's alright, you're awake now."

he eyes you with a frightened gaze, the whites of his eyes prominent as he attempts to slow his breathing. he's tense, almost as though he's preparing to flee.

all he wants is your comfort, but he won't allow himself to have it.

"logan," you speak again in that same tone, "look, it's only a little cut. . ." you outstretch your arm for him to see. his eyes flit down to your wound, his body reluctantly and gingerly moving a little closer. you're right, it's not deep, the bleeding is lessening and it won't even scar. but it doesn't matter, because he still hurt you.

his lip quivers, a sight that has your breath hitching in your throat. he keeps his gaze on the blood as he takes your arm in his hands, "i'm. . . i'm so sorry," logan whispers shakily, unable to express the depth of remorse he feels. the calloused pads of his fingers trace across your skin, each touch a tender apology.

you shake your head, reaching out to cup his chin and tilt his head up as he surrenders to your touch, tears falling from his deep hazel eyes. "i forgive you."

those three words pierce him, he doesn't think he deserves it, doesn't deserve your forgiveness. you should run, run from the untamed animal locked inside him that rears its ugly head in the night. but you don't, you stay with the beast though he could break you. because you know he won't.

he breaks, nuzzling himself down into the safety of your chest as you hold him. "shhh," you coo, "that's it, it's alright. . ."

logan can't describe the security and serenity he feels in your arms. your voice can always reach him through the storm in his mind, the never-ending relentless torrent of thoughts and memories. you wade through, to find him at the edge of it all and bring him back. and he's always grateful.

he wants nothing more than to promise you that he'll never hurt you ever again, but he can't. you both know that. you accepted this the moment you fell in love, you'd walk through hell and back for him, and more.

and so would he, for you.

his body curls, seeking your warmth as he melds into your shape while you both lay back on the sheets. you run your fingers through his hair, your other hand tracing small shapes on his arm he has wrapped tightly around your waist.

"love you," he mumbles into your skin, breathing in your scent and letting it fill him, soothe him. god, he'd never get tired of saying that.

and as his chin tilts up, his gaze meeting yours above him, he melts in your embrace. he sees that love reflected in your eyes, so much of it. so much so that it overwhelms him in the best way.

"i love you too," you smile, leaning down to kiss his forehead as his eyes flutter shut. he reluctantly allows himself to fall back into the realm of slumber, encouraged by your soothing presence.

this time, he dreams of you, your future, the future he wants to create with you.

he dreams of waking up peacefully with you in his arms, of the morning sunlight rays seeping into the moment as it washes across you both. and he prays that this world will allow him this, prays to a god he no longer believes in, begs to be given the opportunity to simply exist with you.

he wants nothing more than that. the opportunity to love you for as long as he can, as long as you want him. and he hopes you want him for a while longer, because he's not sure if he'll ever know how to let you go.

[togament]

suo. sakura. umemiya. togame. pt. 1

"...and the biggest fattest one too. How'd it take him so long to figure it out? What did it take for him to finally realize?"

𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, general cute stuff really. There isn't much to warn about :o!!! gn!reader, Togame is tall and awkward and cute and and--, Ume's precious as always!

𝐒𝐔𝐎.

✦ when he’s doting on you way more, putting your wants over everything else.

He's attending to your every need even before you realize you even need it in the first place. Need tissues? He's already pulling them out of his bag. Got a migraine? He's already handing you a water bottle and an ibuprofen. He does it so naturally too like it's second nature to him.

✦ when he uncharacteristically gets heated when someone tries to harm you.

Listen. He's usually so, SO calm even in the most intense situations, always ready to analyze before acting--a real brain over heart typa guy. But when he finds you being cornered at an alleyway? He's sprinting towards you to beat whoever's planning on hurting you without even thinking twice. Someone's bothering you in town? He's shadowing you, protecting and keeping watch.

✦ he catches himself being flustered, blushing and folding at the sight of you.

Suo rarely shows any intense emotions. If anything, it's always just a slight smile and a little teasing remark here and there. But around you though? He's smiling widely, cheeks blushing. It's hard to hide sometimes. Goodness. He needs to keep himself in check, he often thinks. He doesn't want you to find out yet. Not yet.

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𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀.

✦ when he looks for you FIRST whenever he achieves something, whenever he's having a bad day--for literally EVERYTHING.

his immediate thought is you. Every time. When he sees the hybrid tomato plant you both grew from seed blooming, he's immediately sending you photos. When he's having one of those nights, tossing and turning in his sleep, thoughts keeping him awake, the only thing that's tethering him down to earth is you.

✦ when he sees you get along with the family that he built for himself.

Ume is never subtle when it comes to this. My god. He's blushing, tripping over his words, movements ever so stiff--it's very unusual to see Ume in this state. He's just so happy to see you interacting with everybody, loving each member as much as he does. He can't just swoop you off your feet and kiss you right? Not right now. Not when he's been silently pining for you for years.

✦ when he realizes his thoughts about his future always has you in it.

He often talks about his future with others, what his plans are after he graduates, where he wants to go, what restaurants to go to. Everyone notices how his thoughts always seem to gravitate towards you, always easing you into his plans with a pensive little, "Hm. Y'think they'd like to go here too? I heard them talking about the spot a couple times!", "Maaaan I wanna go here with them soon. Should I just book the tickets? Surprise them? Yeah I think I should!" Everyone's just waiting for a confession at this point, really.

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𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

✦ when random things remind him of you.

he could be on their daily patrols, passing by some shops and his mind would drift off to you and how you would look in the shirt he passed by, how your face would probably light up at the taste of the anpan they're selling down the street. Goodness you never leave his mind. Day dreams about it sometimes. Suo and Nirei has caught him multiple times doing so. Always ends with an extremely flustered Sakura.

✦ when he thinks he hears your laughter or your voice, his head snaps towards the direction of the sound.

just like the above! But it's your voice. Nirei thinks Sakura's just on guard by how often he looks around quickly but Suo points out Sakura's reddening cheeks and they immediately know he's thinking about you again. Wants to fish his phone out of his pocket with trembling (and blushing) fingers to ask you where you are. Y'know... Just in case you run into trouble.

✦ when he gave you the other half of his food (he hasn't taken a single bite yet)

Sakura sometimes eats for at least 5 people so to have him offer half of his food to you when you're out eating is saying something. His hands are blushing and trembling as he's trying his best to steady them, slicing a portion of his food to place it on your plate. Of course, you give him the other half of your food too. Of course he's a blushing mess.

────────────────────────────────────────────

𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

✦ finds every excuse possible to be close to you. (Subtly.)

Ever noticed how Togame always seems to bump into you at spots you and your friends frequent? How he so happened to pass by the Furin school after your classes are dismissed? Gosh you're his first real crush so he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings. He wants to see you and see you often. He awkwardly and adorably tries his damndest not to seem too obvious when he's trying to see you more to strike up a conversation but his blushing (and tall frame) doesn't help his case.

✦ when he always talks about you to the old men at the public baths he frequents.

Togame's a quiet guy. He rarely ever yaps, always getting cut off mid-sentence since he talks so.. SO slow. But when it's about you, his normal 0.75x speaking speed goes up to a full 1.0x or even, dare I say, 1.25x. He's smiling ear to ear, voice with an uncharacteristic shine to it while he's playing shogi with one of the old men. They already adore you before they even meet you. They often give Togame advice too--bring you your favorite flowers, they suggest. Take you out for a festival date, they suggest. "Soon," Togame responds, scratching the back of his neck, "M'nervous though. I can pull it off ri--" "Of course you can, kame-kun." he looks at the old men with the softest, most lovestruck eyes they've ever seen. Soon. He'll make his very first move.

✦ has caught himself staring at you from afar, smiling to himself like a damn lovesick puppy.

...on multiple ocassions, might I add. You could be yapping away with the Bofurin members, talking animatedly about the most mundane things, arms flinging to and fro to get your point across, snort laughing and head thrown back. Togame's just sat just outside the group, ever the introvert. Face propped on his hand, heart practically melting. He doesn't realize he's doing this before Choji points it out. Loudly. He's immediately looking in the other direction, blush creeping up his neck as he struggles to keep the smaller Shishitoren member in check. While he's preoccupied, it's your turn to stare back at him, hiding a blush behind your hand. Suo notices this and points it out. Now the both of you are flustered messes.

a/n: tried my hand at a new layout!! eeeee inspired by my favorite perfume house but we're not opening that can of worms right now, lest I yap. ANYWHOSIES thank you, dear reader, for getting this far. I am smooching your forehead tenderly with consent.

[pearwaldorf]

I hate that you can't see a tweet thread anymore if you're not logged into Twitter (as a gesture of disrespect I refuse to call it by its rebranded name). Here is a copypasta of a thread from Dan Olson, a Canadian documentary filmmaker, expanding upon camera quality, the guilt trips Somerton used to goose his Patreon subscriptions, and how the best tools will never make up for lack of dedication or patience. I have added clarifications in [[double brackets]] where I feel it is necessary.

START OF THREAD

Okay, so, back in April I snapped at James in reply to a tweet that was linking to this video (which James has since delisted but not deleted) and I want to talk about the full context of that but I don't want to make a video, put your beatdown memes away. [[The video has since been deleted. I can see the title of the video is "Maybe the end (not an April Fool's Day thing".]]

The first bit of context is that I initially got keyed into James to fact-check his claims about indie filmmaking in Canada. As a filmmaker the entire Telos venture was immediately obvious as a juvenile fantasy dreamed up by someone with no idea how to make a movie.

Just wild claims about their plans that weren't worth debunking because they bordered Not Even Wrong. But in watching one of these pitch videos I noticed that he had a $4000 current-gen camera in the background as a prop, and that seemed both pretentious and weird.

You don't use your best camera as a prop, you use your second best camera as a prop. So being an obsessive weirdo I needed to know, and I watched his BTS stuff until I spotted his main rig, a $6000 camera with about $1000 in accessories.

Now, these in isolation are unremarkable because his Patreon at the time was bringing in ~$8000 per month, his channel was a full on Business business, and so investing in some professional equipment of that level is maybe a bit indulgent but justifiable.

What was weird is that he doesn't shoot multi-cam, doesn't shoot outdoors, doesn't shoot on location, and in a studio the two cameras kinda really step on each others' toes. Basically if you already have one and don't need a B cam there's no reason to get the other.

Again, on its own, this says nothing, it's just indicative of poor financial decisions, maybe impulsive purchasing, Gear Acquisition Syndrome. Biblical sins, but not crimes.

Paired with the constantly inflating fantasy scope of the Telos films it was clearly an expression of a very, very common bad filmmaker habit of "if I just get the right gear then my movie will basically make itself" Buying stuff because it feels like progress.

At the end of February he tweets "I want to start shooting anamorphic" and then three weeks later in March he posts the worst, out of focus, under-exposed "I just got a new lens!" video I've ever seen, showing off his trash-covered bedroom.

Based on what's available for his cameras and the lead time, that's enough time to get a Laowa Nanomorph or Sirui Saturn from B&H but not enough time to get a Great Joy from the UK or a Vazen from China. And with the flaring blah blah blah, $1300 lens.

Again, [gear acquisition syndrome] is not a crime and these lenses are budget options. Bit of a pointless impulse purchase since he only used it for the Showgirls video. But this is what he was doing just a few weeks before that above video came out: effortlessly impulse purchasing lenses.

James has (had?) a habit of regularly, aggressively driving viewers to Patreon by claiming that videos were getting demonetized. While tacky, it is something a lot of queer YouTubers have dealt with, so there's precedent there. But people were noticing he did it a lot.

Mid-March he humble brags about needing to work so hard to make 6 videos in April because he has over-booked sponsorships.

Then March 29th James posts this whole incel screed on Twitter about how sex work should be "subsidized as a mental health service."

[two image descriptions.

1. "For the majority of people sex (and human contact) can be imperative to a healthy state of mind. A kind and talented sex worker can make someone feel wanted for the first time in their life. I know sex workers who have pulled people back from suicide just by being there for them." 2. "Not only should (sex work) be legal, but it should be subsidized as a mental health service."]

He spends several days getting absolutely *roasted* for this, just dragged across the pavement and read for filth, and doubles down in the replies the whole way.

So this is the context immediately surrounding James waking up on Friday, and posts the above video and the below tweet.

[image description: "We just got the lowest Patreon payout we've gotten in well over a year. Like, a "maybe we need to rethink things" kind of amount... NOT an April Fools Day thing btw. But I don't know if we'll be making videos much longer."]

Now, this unfolds in kinda two directions. The first is that I'm convinced he was just lying about this income shock in the first place.

There's a million theoretical edge cases about what maybe happened and if maybe he just misunderstood the data or saw a glitch and panicked, maybe one of those happened, I don't believe it, I think he just lied because he was salty about getting dragged and felt owed a win.

A big tell to me is that he doesn't blame Patreon. He says he doesn't know what happened, but let's be real, Patreon screws up all the time, they're the first people anyone blames if anything confusing happens, just as a reflex action, even if it's completely not their fault.

The only reason to not blame Patreon is if you already know that it's not their fault and that any investigation on their part might reveal embarrassing details.

Instead he indirectly blames his viewers for not watching enough, not sharing enough, and not turning on auto-renew.

So regardless of the unknowable truth, this segues into the second, far more offensive direction of the messaging itself. "I don't know if we'll be making videos much longer." "Maybe the end" He explicitly framed this as an immediate existential threat to his channel.

In the video he is vague about everything, leaves a ton of hazy room for plausible deniability on how long the channel can keep going, but the messaging is "I need more patrons right this minute or my YouTube channel is over."

He repeatedly evokes all the "fun stuff" they had planned that would never see the light of day if this didn't turn around right away.

And his audience received this message loud and clear. Tons of people making far, far, far less than him left very heartfelt messages about digging a little deeper to subscribe or up their pledge or unsubscribe from other channels to move their pledge to his.

1200 new patrons in one day.

Since I simply don't believe the income shock was real in the first place that would put his post-"Maybe the end" Patreon income at around $10,000 per month. US. Add YouTube income, he's spent the last seven months making around $18,000 per month.

I have seen creators scale back their capabilities to the bone purely to keep making videos for the love of just, like, making stuff even as their funding evaporated and they needed to go back to a desk job to cover their bills.

You'd have to be so outstandingly reckless with your finances as a channel that a one month spook leads immediately to "channel over, sorry about all the fun stuff we won't get to do with you, our patrons, specifically because you, our patrons, aren't giving us enough money"

And not a spook where you then spend a couple weeks crunching numbers. Oh no. A shock so violent where less than two hours later you're weeping on camera about the channel being over.

Three weeks later he brought a brand new Sony FX6v for $8000 CAD to add to his pile of cinema cameras despite the fact that he was, but scant moments earlier, in such a precarious position that a single bad month would kill his channel.

He stole your money, and for that I'm profoundly sad and angry. That's why I snapped at him in April. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the full context then, and I'm sorry if that anger upset you.

END OF THREAD

[thebat-musicman]

[video starts with Jason Todd-Wayne sitting on a couch and looking into the camera like he’s in a reality tv show]

Jason: Now I have known for years that people are attracted to my father, but only this week have i figured out a way to treat this: by telling everyone what Bruce is really like. If you’re still attracted to him by the end of this video, I think you should see an optometrist.

[scene changes to see Bruce Wayne on the couch, rubbing his temples already. If you turn the volume all the way up you can hear him muttering “i love my kids i love my kids i love my kids”]

Jason, now behind the camera: Bruce! What do you dream of?

Bruce: My parents d-

Jason: I said dreams, don’t get us demonetized.

Bruce: Sudoku.

Jason: You dream of sudoku?

Bruce: Is this an interrogation?

[scene change but Bruce is still on the couch. He just has coffee now]

Jason: What’s your favorite cracker flavor?

Bruce: Saltines.

Jason: Why did you pick the boring ones?

Bruce: Crackers are inherently boring

Jason: Why not cheez-its? Or something else with a little more pizazz.

Bruce: Crackers are incapable of pizazz.

[scene change, Bruce is now eating saltines]

Jason: What do you say about the allegations that you are just a piece of white bread someone doodled a face on.

Bruce: …does the bread at least have raisins?

Jason: No. Now what about the allegations that you really need to get over your stupid moral c-

Bruce: I want my lawyer.

[scene change, Tim Drake-Wayne is now sitting on the couch next to Bruce. He is wearing a suit and clutching a briefcase.]

Jason: How many people have you actually dated?

Bruce: T-

Tim: Don’t answer that, he has nothing on you.

Jason: You didn’t go to law school!

Tim: I have watched all 26 seasons of Law & Order: SVU.

Jason: He wasn’t even accused of a crime!

Tim, already standing up: Oh he wasn’t? Then we can go

Bruce, walking out of the room with Tim: Bye, Jaylad!

[scene change, Jason is sitting on the couch again with his head in his hands]

Jason, muffled: Why do I even try?