#PLEASE GIVE IT A LISTEN IF YOU HAVEN’T!!

[astonmartinii]

who's afraid of little old me? | [guilty as sin part six] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x sainz!reader

alls well that ends well.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

maxverstappen1

liked by pepemarti, oscarpiastri and 1,934,209 others

tagged: kimiantonelli, yourusername & charles_leclerc

maxverstappen1: ootd for court!

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user379: HE’S SUING CARLOS?

user380: i think i saw that he’s in switzerland which means he’s probably referring to the court of arbitration for sport

user381: so red bull defo have the data to back up the claim that carlos purposefully crashed into max?

user382: they’d be stupid not to have it and still risk going to CAS

user383: so how do i go about getting into the court room?

yourusername: it’s not particularly weird that i’ve taken my brother to court, but it was weird that i’ve now done it twice

maxverstappen1: save some court dates for the rest of us

oscarpiastri: soooooooo selfish of you

yourusername: well at least we all get to come this time!

charles_leclerc: can our next group trip please be to somewhere fun like ibiza or bali not COURT

yourusername: why? i clearly love it here?

charles_leclerc: but you love me more?

yourusername: why do you think i keep getting dragged to court?

maxverstappen1: because your brother is a prick?

yourusername: well there’s also that

user384: so like who is going to be live blogging this?

user385: can you live blog court proceedings?

user386: why haven’t sky managed to get ted kravitz in the court room?

user387: if i have to listen to him slander max for the rest of the year it’s the least they could do…

olliebearman: omg the silence in the comment section @yourusername you should’ve sued him sooner

maxverstappen1: hey! i’m the one suing him give me the credit

yourusername: yeah sorry ollie, unfortunately carlos sued ME the last time

pepemarti: @charles_leclerc i still think you’re a pussy for not speaking up during this…

charles_leclerc: I KNOW

charles_leclerc: I’M SORRY

yourusername: it’s okay baby, i’ve forgiven you

pepemarti: i haven’t

charles_leclerc: okay?

yourusername: he’s just protective 🥰

charles_leclerc: what the hell sure

user388: pepe marti i am fond of you

user389: surely one of these grid kids will live tweet?

yourusername: do NOT tempt them with a good time

WHAT ON EARTH IS HAPPENING IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS (CAS?)

By BBC Sport

14:30

One of the most high-profile court cases in sport kicked off earlier this month and the rest of the world has been left baffled by the proceedings.

Max Verstappen, and his team Red Bull Racing, have taken Carlos Sainz, Ferrari driver for the 2024 season, to the Court of Arbitration for Sport following their crash in Azerbaijan.

The final lap at the circuit in Baku saw Sainz storm into the side of Verstappen’s Red Bull, pushing both cars into the concrete barriers at the street circuit. Although neither driver were seriously injured, Verstappen was kept overnight in the hospital for precautions, while Sainz was able to hop straight out of his wrecked car and into his private jet to his picturesque holiday spot.

Verstappen, ever the joker, immediately ran to social media where alongside his gang of other drivers and friend Y/N Sainz poked at the situation. It wasn’t until a couple of days after the incident that Sky Sports reported that Red Bull were enquiring into the possibility that this crash was on purpose, perhaps even with malicious intent.

The much-needed context to this crash doesn’t come from an on-track incident, in fact, it hardly has much to do with the sport at all. Y/N Sainz is an integral figure in this controversy. Earlier this year when it was revealed that her brother, Carlos, wouldn’t be resigning with Ferrari in favour of Lewis Hamilton, Carlos lashed out and revealed his sister’s years-long secret relationship with Sainz’s teammate at the time, Charles Leclerc.

Both Carlos Sainz Jr and Sr immediately threw accusations against their own blood of backstabbing and betrayal, despite it being very clear that Y/N Sainz was none the wiser to Ferrari’s move.

Y/N Sainz is far removed from Formula 1 aside from her relation to Carlos and her relationship with Charles. Y/N Sainz is a successful author who prior to this incident seemed to be in good favour with her family.

Amongst the fallout, further accusations flew from both parties. Y/N accused her father and brother of attempting to sell her off in the paddock for favours from teams while her brother and father regurgitated their points of her supposedly being a ‘gold digger’.

The first round of this controversy also culminated in a courtroom. Sainz Sr took his own daughter to court, claiming that he was entitled to all of her earnings from her book sales. It must also be noted here that those court proceedings exposed that Y/N had never had a bank account of her own, rather that all of her earnings were funnelled to her father to which she was then given a stipend.

Y/N won that court case, as it’ll be likely that her close friend Verstappen will win his. It was ordered that Sainz Sr had to pay back all of her earnings alongside damages. However, it was not the win she had hoped for as Ferrari had a gag order on her boyfriend, meaning she went through the proceedings alone, with distant support from Verstappen and Oscar Piastri.

Following worldwide outrage, this gag order was dropped and the pair were reunited and attended races again as a united front - even picking up a group of rookies that stuck to the side of Y/N.

Leclerc even commented following the crash that he felt it was meant for him, which reinforced the theory that it was premeditated. We’ll keep you updated as the court proceedings continue.

15:30

It is to BBC’s understanding that texts between Sainz Jr and Sr have been revealed to the court that imply a plan to cause as much damage before they are ousted at the end of the season. The texts themselves do not state that Verstappen was the intended target, that incident seemed to be a crime of opportunity. Rather, that Ferrari and Leclerc were the targets of their rage but fortunately for Leclerc in Baku, he was simply too fast for Sainz to catch.

Amongst the texts was on damning one, ‘I’ll put that mongasque cunt in the wall as many times as I can to make sure Y/N can only have her happily ever after with a cripple or a headstone’.

It’s shaping up to be a slam dunk against Carlos Sainz as Red Bull prepare to present their telemetry evidence.

16:45

Our court side reporter states that Red Bull’s telemetry data was damning. Another ‘betrayal’ for the male Sainz contingent as Ferrari happily complied with Red Bull’s investigation, handing over all of the data which conclusively proved that Sainz purposefully crashed into and endangered Max Verstappen.

We now just wait on the final verdict.

17:38

GUILTY!

Carlos Sainz Jr has been given a guilty verdict for endangering a fellow athlete with malicious intent. The Court of Arbitration of Sport has ruled that Sainz is hereby banned from Formula One indefinitely. He will not complete his final season with Ferrari and his entry to the paddock will be monitored on a case-by-case basis.

This is a landmark ruling in the sport but you can’t help but think it was necessary. The sport is dangerous enough, it was simply too dangerous to have a man who admitted in texts to wanting to inflict as much damage as possible on another driver.

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, pepemarti and 2,762,092 others

yourusername: family is not always the people you are born to but the people who you find along the way

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user390: yeah sis this is cute and all but like your biggest opp just got taken out back and shot let’s dance on his grave a lil bit

pepemarti: dw i’m doing the hoedown throwdown for the whole team 🫡

user391: you’ve just earned stanship good sir

pepemarti: i don’t play about my first celebrity crush

yourusername: you’re making me feel old josep

charles_leclerc: also can you like stop doing the hoedown throwdown you’re being the worst upstairs neighbour ever right now

pepemarti: just because carlos plotted to kill you doesn’t mean you have to take my shine 😖

user391: this is all a bit chill for idk the historic court ruling that just happened

user392: i mean if i were them i’d be getting crunk and celebrating

user393: one of them is literally doing the hoedown throwdown right now???

oscarpiastri: you guys don’t even want to know what max is doing right now

yourusername: yeah lets keep that off the internet for now

user394: not even one morsel queen?

charles_leclerc: max has been arguing (with himself) for an HOUR over how he should give y/n away at her wedding because he BASICALLY DIED for her

maxverstappen1: i don’t detect any lies…

yourusername: you didn’t die though did you

maxverstappen1: i COULD HAVE???

maxverstappen1: if carlos’ aim was better i would be splattered across the concrete walls of baku…

kimiantonelli: GROSS

maxverstappen1: i know kimi, it is gross that they’re minimising my trauma

charles_leclerc: okay buddy we bought you a couple gin and tonics for your trouble

maxverstappen1: SILENCE BOY

yourusername: how could we possibly repay you max?

maxverstappen1: charles could let me past on track?

charles_leclerc: i would rather let carlos make road kill of you

yourusername: CHARLES?

charles_leclerc: too soon?

maxverstappen1: and to think i was going to offer to take lando out for you?

yourusername: you don’t really need prompting for that?

maxverstappen1: it’s the thought that counts !!!

olliebearman: i know linkedin is sick of my ass

olliebearman: thanks for the ferrari drive charles, max and y/n!!!!

yourusername: what the hell, sure you’re welcome ollie

maxverstappen1: i know how you can repay me…

charles_leclerc: don’t listen to him ollie!

maxverstappen1: just got the biggest pain in your ass sent to the shadow realm but god forbid i ask for a cheeky tow

user395: after the absolute shitshow that was the ferrari gag order and the first trial… i prayed for times like this

user396: what will i do now i no longer have carlos to dunk on?

oscarpiastri: real haters find a way

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, olliebearman and 1,308,293 others

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri & charles_leclerc

f1: you might have been distracted by the off track drama… but we’re back and the title battle is probably a lot closer than you think… lando is leading the championship, with oscar following three points behind and charles just four points back from him. can ferrari finally clinch a championship in the second half of the season?

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user397: oh i lowkey forgot about this sport

user398: i was too deep in the how to get away with murder court room drama

user399: you people are what’s wrong with the sport

user400: and not the guy who tried to kill another driver based on the fact that he’s insecure about his sister’s relationship

user401: bro gets indefinitely banned from the sport for a malicious crash and somehow “DTS fangirls” are still the issue for these men

user402: make it make sense

charles_leclerc: what off track drama?

yourusername: we were just enjoying a family trip to switzerland

maxverstappen1: a very cultural trip i will say

olliebearman: the chocolate was yummers

oscarpiastri: never say yummers again

olliebearman: omg god forbid i want to get whimsy with my language choices

oscarpiastri: i think if anyone here is the authority on words it’s the literal author

yourusername: i ain’t getting involved in this nonsense

olliebearman: Y/N ???

user403: oh she really is a MOTHER

user404: I can’t believe my favourite driver has been banned because his sister couldn’t keep it in her pants

user405: and charles kept it in his?

user404: well yes he was clearly seduced

user406: how has this been an argument for over a year and yall are still coming to this conclusion

user407: it’s called hating women babe

user408: but like what do i do with my carlos merch now

user409: you still had that shit?

kimiantonelli: burn it!!!!

yourusername: kimi no!

kimiantonelli: kimi yes!

charles_leclerc: oh wait there’s a damn championship to win

charles_leclerc: idk how to focus just on racing after the past year omg

yourusername: get to winning mr

charles_leclerc: for you, of course

yourusername: i might be in love with you, hopelessly so, but i’m still a part of the tifosi HURRY UP

user410: y/n’s priorities have always been the realest

olliebearman: she just made me cookies and then said if i don’t protect charles from the world’s greatest evil (mclaren) then i’m disowned

landonorris: how are we the worlds greatest evil when your brother and dad plotted to kill charles and nearly killed max

yourusername: i thought i had you blocked?

landonorris: I’M SORRY

yourusername: i… don’t give a fuck - sorry!

charles_leclerc

liked by olliebearman, maxverstappen1 and 3,109,377 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it’s been a tough ol year this one. alongside a tough title battle, we’ve fought tough personal battles as well. no matter what happens tomorrow, i will forever be grateful to have the most wonderful woman at my side. i love you y/n, this is the start of the rest of our life and i’ll do whatever i can to make you the happiest woman in the world.

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user411: tough personal battles - and it was him having no backbone

user412: i mean in the court case it literally came out he had a gag order…

user413: well he should sort his gag reflex and get to sucking off

user413: the metaphor got wholly lost there my bad

user413: point is they would’ve had to put my ass in space to keep me from my love who also happens to be the Y/N SAINZ

user414: always saying what we’re all thinking

charles_leclerc: i’m not sucking off fred

user415: i don’t think -

yourusername: oh baby there’s a reason i’m the writer in this household

charles_leclerc: let me live !!!

user416: oh i am so glad that bros biggest personal battle now is reading comprehension

user417: happens to the best of us

user418: idk my brain doesn’t automatically go to sucking off my boss

charles_leclerc: I DIDN’T REALISE

charles_leclerc: IT WAS A BAD METAPHOR

charles_leclerc: @user414 you will pay for your crimes

maxverstappen1: bro can’t read lol

charles_leclerc: SHUT THE FUCK UP

charles_leclerc: did i or did i not write a very cute caption for this post

yourusername: yes! it is very lovely darling

charles_leclerc: HAH

user417: personally i think i could make y/n happier if i am given the chance

charles_leclerc: nuh uh

user418: bro is scared

charles_leclerc: no !!!

user419: he knows he’s outnumbered

oscarpiastri: he’s started pacing

yourusername: guys, i appreciate the sentiment but please refrain from threatening my boyfriend

user420: i demand a TRIAL BY COMBAT

yourusername: girl this ain’t game of thrones

user421: just because charles won’t fight for your hand…

charles_leclerc: YES I WILL I’LL FIGHT ALL OF YOU

olliebearman: my dad has officially gone crazy - and before i solidly made it into the will, you hate to see it

pepemarti: i can’t believe i’m missing out on a charles meltdown 😩

oscarpiastri: he’s shadow boxing with max and i’m pretty sure max is just biding his time to get a hit in on him

maxverstappen1: and that’s for the inchident motherfucker

yourusername: okay! time to stop!

charles_leclerc: this was meant to be a nice post 😖

yourusername: you know i love you baby

yourusername: let’s go win this championship

maxverstappen1: or lose it to me, i don’t mind

charles_leclerc: MAX???

yourusername: really?

maxverstappen1: omg he could win his first championship and now a man can’t make a joke?

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 3,987,019 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: i won’t make this post all about karma, but good things come to those who wait… i’m overwhelmingly proud of my boy that i don’t quite know how to put it into words. there’s just something about seeing the person you love achieve their dreams, it’s otherworldly, just like charles. you said this was the start of the rest of our lives? i couldn’t think of a better way to start

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user422: well if you won't i will

user423: KARMA

fernandoalo_oficial: karma

user424: FERNANDO?

fernandoalo_oficial: KARMA! do i make myself clear

user425: omg the old man said fuck that guy

user426: the two carlos fans left just fell to their knees

user427: TWO? generous.

olliebearman: i COULD !!!!

charles_leclerc: oliver, no meddling

olliebearman: you just won the championship would it kill you to be a little more fun?

charles_leclerc: as much as i love you peoples annoyingly persistent presence in my life, lets leave some things to us

olliebearman: ANNOYING?

olliebearman: after i just won you a championship?

yourusername: ollie...

olliebearman: did i or did i not hold up lando?

landonorris: for like three laps?

olliebearman: CEASE SPEAKING TO ME

charles_leclerc: thank you ollie, those three laps 100% did it

olliebearman: you're welcome ☺️

yourusername: he's such a good dad omg

maxverstappen1: that's one way to put it

user428: bro won the world championship and immediately went into dad mode

user429: i fear y/n might need to make the man a father

oscarpiastri: HE'S A FATHER ALREADY

kimiantonelli: us erasure

pepemarti: there's not enough room for an actual child sorry

yourusername: ???

charles_leclerc: you guys are not helping in any way ever for anything

charles_leclerc: i don't think it'll set in for a long while, but i know now and forever that i love you and that i'm glad you've been by my side through all of it

yourusername: the pleasure has been all mine

maxverstappen1: believe me WE KNOW

yourusername: MAX?

maxverstappen1: sorry i just 100% heard you guys in the drivers room and am SCARRED but yeah you guys go back to being all lovey dovey

kimiantonelli: drivers room?

maxverstappen1: i protected your innocence, never say i don't do things for you people again

user430: well at least we know he didn't just get lucky on track

yourusername: gUYS?

charles_leclerc: anyway!

charles_leclerc: i love you !!! and your strength has inspired me since i met you and all throughout this season!

yourusername: i need you to know that i love you and i would do this all again 100 times if i meant that i would still be with you and see us achieve our dreams

charles_leclerc: you have my heart, forever and always

yourusername: as do you, you're my 1

user431: they're so sickeningly sweet

user432: thinking about a wedding... i might die

user433: it's defo happening - i can see right through you ollie

olliebearman: I SAID NOTHING

charles_leclerc: ugh. ollie !!!!!

yourusername: be patient charles - you chose him as a kid

charles_leclerc: well let me know when we can make our own and we can get busy

maxverstappen1: ENOUGH.

fin. EPILOGUE COMING SOON...

note: yes guys i did fall into a hole and forget about this blog - jokes! but life did get super busy, so i just had to get this out before i go on holiday this weekend !!! i hope you enjoyed and can now enjoy reading guilty as sin in its entirety (well, nearly). i have a long journey so i will be working on my other WIPs lol don't worry.

taglist: @2pagenumb @marshmummy @dullypully @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @minkyungseokie @sarah-thatstings-ann @callsignwidow @six-call @babyphotos0325 @velentine @honethatty12 @halleest @bruinsfan234 @woozarts @jaydaaasworld @random-human02 @blueberry64857959 @shimmermotorsport @xoscar03 @danielshoe @deamus-liv @jiminssmallpinkyy @eugene-emt-roe @emryb @aadu2173 @rhythmstars @booksandflowrs @2bormaybenot @firelily-mimi @evie-119 @mehrsdigitaldiary @sltwins @bibissparkles @evans-dejong @eiaaasamantha @23victoria @venusacrossthestars @boywondrgrayson @rare2306 @sinarainbows @chaoticbouquetangel @awritingtree @armystay89 @ggrgcribg @ct2302 @czennieszn @swangelss @sumlovesjude @hashmiya @airsky27 @chaoticbouquetangel @chenlesbitxh @iamkaku @scorpiomindfuck @samantha-chicago @trevuorzegras @personwhoisther @green-thots @madszoca @silentreader128 @buckybarnessweetheart @justzluv@toldyouitwasamelodrama @crowsnfrogs @charlesgirl16 @reguluscrystals @hiireadstuff @destinyg237 @mael1pastry @sweet-creature98 @changetyre @eclipsedcherry @its-elias-world @brune77e @exotic-iris13 @alenix @sheridamn @boherahpsody @e-nonsense @vogueprincess @loloekie @dckgzz @cluvsya

[mashtatosworld]

to be loved

summary: summer is approaching and Jiyong is teaching your girls how to swim

warnings: discussions of bodies

a/n: hi, just wanted to add a little note to say that this work includes discussions on body weight and mental health. If you feel uncomfortable please feel free to message me for a summary instead but I feel it's important to represent the struggles of real life. Body image is something I've struggled with myself and all bodies deserve to be listened to, loved, and seen.

Love always,

Mash xxx

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

It was supposed to be a quiet, easy summer afternoon. But quiet didn’t exist anymore - not with two little girls and one very persistent husband.

Jiyong was waist-deep in the pool, cradling baby Angel in her red inflatable ring.

She floated with that soft, milk-drunk expression babies got when they were just happy to exist, a little sun hat covering her dark hair and chubby legs lazily kicking. Her little arms waved now and then, making tiny ripples in the water.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Jiyong cooed, carefully gliding her across the shallow end like she was made of glass. “Just like your big sister did. Remember that, Jagi? She used to float just like this.”

You smiled faintly from the comfort of your lounger, parked under the umbrella.

You remembered.

You remembered the first time Diva was this small, this round-cheeked, with Jiyong just as eager to teach her everything - even when she was too little to understand.

He was patient, careful, endlessly tender.

Just like now.

But your body shifted uncomfortably as you adjusted your dress over your thighs again.

The warmth wasn’t helping.

You were roasting beneath the fabric and it clung to your body as the heat continued to rise.

A loud giggle broke the silence and then -

“Jia, don’t - !”

SPLASH.

Too late.

Water exploded around the pool like a mini tsunami, soaking Jiyong’s face, hair, and half of the inflatable ring where Angel sat, blinking in startled silence.

Jiyong sighed, flicking droplets off his Chanel sunglasses. “Yah! I told you no jumping near your sister!”

Diva popped back up with a grin that had mischief written all over it, her bright pink armbands bobbing as she paddled like a wild little duckling.

“She liked it!” she chirped, splashing her baby sister gently, who gurgled something halfway between a giggle and a hiccup.

“Appa did not.” Jiyong wiped his face again, then carefully adjusted the strap of Angel's hat. “Aish, your sister is a menace today.”

You smiled and sipped your iced tea.

“Jagiya - ” Jiyong called, dragging out the syllables in his playful, singsong whine. “Come swim with your husband. You love me, remember?”

You raised a brow. “Can't I love you from here?”

He pouted dramatically at your words. “I need backup over here, okay?”

“I think you're doing a great job.”

“Exactly,” he grinned, adjusting the brim of his bucket hat. “Father of the year. Come give me my reward.”

You tilted your sunglasses down, eyes gleaming despite the smile you forced. “My reward is sitting right here, remaining dry and unbothered.”

He started drifting toward the edge of the pool, one arm gently guiding Angel's float as he swam. “Come on, Jagi. You’re so hot when you’re wet.”

Your brows shot up at his statement. “Jiyong.”

He grinned innocently. “What? I’m just telling the truth. I’ve seen you in less than a swimsuit. Don’t act like I haven’t.”

Your fingers curled tighter around your glass.

Underneath the loose sundress was a swimsuit, yes.

One you used to feel good in.

But your body still didn’t feel like yours anymore.

Clothes clung a little differently now, certain parts felt softer, wider, newer.

And you could feel Jiyong’s eyes on you sometimes and would worry - even though you knew better - that maybe this time, they lingered a second longer in surprise, not in desire.

With Diva, it had been easier.

You’d bounced back so fast, because you had to - your tour rehearsals started just months after she was born, and your body had no choice but to fall in line.

But with Angel, you weren’t rushing back.

You were slower.

Still healing, inside and out.

And still trying to like the person in the mirror again.

But Jiyong didn’t know that.

Because he still looked at you like you hung the stars. Because to him, you did.

Knowing that didn’t stop the feeling.

You turned away before he could say anything else, setting your glass down and pretending to scroll your phone.

Jiyong frowned.

He noticed the shift - subtle, but there.

Still, he didn’t push.

Not yet.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Eventually, lunchtime rolled around.

You snacked on sandwiches under the shaded pergola, little plates with fruit slices and juice boxes.

Angel was passed out in her stroller with one arm flopped over the side. Diva chattered endlessly about swimming like a mermaid, her wet hair stuck to her face.

You were standing over her, towel-drying her arms, gently patting her skin before rubbing in suncream again when Jiyong came behind you, fingers brushing at the hem of your dress like he could just sneak it off you.

“You must be boiling in all this,” he murmured, low and teasing, gently tugging you backwards and into his wet body. “Why don’t we get back in the pool while they rest? Just us, hmm?”

You tensed - subtle, but he felt it.

He grinned, fingers hooking gently in the hem of your dress. “Come on. I want you in the water with me.”

Your heart stuttered. “Jiyong, don’t - ”

His hands tugged a little more insistently.

“Jiyong - ” your voice came out sharper than you meant.

He paused.

“I said don’t,” you snapped, more forcefully this time, grabbing his wrist and stepping out of his touch.

There was a beat of silence. His brows furrowed, eyes wide - confused and slightly hurt.

Diva looked between you both, then went back to her grapes.

You kept your gaze down, shifting back over to your daughter intent on finishing applying her sunscreen.

“You can get back in the pool in twenty minutes,” you said softly, smoothing the protective spray across her shoulders. “Let your food go down and the suncream dry.”

“Nooo,” Diva groaned, flopping dramatically in her seat.

You smiled at her performance, but Jiyong was still standing behind you, silent now, his hands falling to his sides.

He didn’t understand - not the full picture - but something in your voice told him this wasn’t just about the pool.

And when you didn’t meet his gaze he quietly moved over to the stroller, occupying his hands with adjusting the sunshade instead, making sure it was protecting his baby from the sun.

He didn’t say anything else.

But his mind was already racing.

Because something was hurting his girl - and he didn’t let hurt linger in this family.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Diva, now armed with a neon water gun nearly as long as her leg, had taken to watering the windows, although you were suspicious she was really aiming for the birds.

Angel was once again snoozing peacefully in the shade, chubby cheeks flushed with warmth and comfort.

You had settled back on the sun lounger, your sunglasses back in place, but your body still tense.

You were quietly berating yourself for snapping at him, for the sharp edge to your voice when he was just - being him. Playful. Flirty. Trying to bring you into the moment.

You didn’t hear his approach at first. The quiet pad of wet feet.

But then his shadow fell across your recliner and you looked up to find Jiyong standing there, towel draped over his shoulders, his expression gentler now.

He didn’t tease. Didn’t smile.

He just sat down on the edge of your lounger, still damp, still glistening in the heat, and looked at you with warm, steady eyes. “You okay?”

You glanced at him, lips pursed. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier I just..."

You weren’t sure how to say it without sounding silly or vain.

Jiyong leaned in, his hand brushing gently against your bare ankle, thumb stroking a slow line up your skin.

He shook his head. “Don’t apologise. Just tell me what’s going on.” His voice was soft.

You hesitated.

It wasn’t something you said out loud often. Maybe not even to yourself.

“I… haven’t been feeling good. About myself. About my body.”

Jiyong blinked, stunned. “What?” He tilted his head, brow furrowing.

You nodded, embarrassed. “It’s stupid. After Jia, everything just snapped back. But now, I’m - tired. And it’s harder. It’s not going away like before.”

Jiyong was quiet for a moment. Then his hand moved up, cradling your calf, warm and grounding.

“You gave me two daughters,” he said, voice thick with sincerity. “y/n, you’ve never looked more beautiful to me. Every curve, every line. You’re everything.”

Your eyes burned suddenly. You blinked hard behind your sunglasses.

He leaned forward, brushing a kiss just above your knee. “It’s just us here. Me and our girls. You don’t need to hide from us.”

You nodded slowly, your chest loosening.

He leaned in, grip on your leg tightening. “Besides,” he whispered, grinning now, “you don’t have to take off your clothes to go in the pool.”

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Wait. What are you - ?”

But by then, he was already moving, pulling you up into his arms with surprising ease.

“Jiyong! Don’t you dare!”

“I absolutely dare,” he grinned, holding you like a bride as he padded toward the edge of the pool.

You shrieked, half-laughing, half-serious. “I swear to God if you throw me in - ”

“I’m not throwing you,” he said matter-of-factly. “We’re jumping.”

And before you could protest again, he launched the two of you into the pool, landing with a tremendous splash that sent water flying in all directions.

You came up sputtering, soaked and blinking water from your lashes, but Jiyong was still holding you tightly, laughing like a kid.

You were laughing too, your dress clinging to your skin, but you felt cooler now.

Lighter.

There was something freeing about the absurdity of it, the way he looked at you like you were still that girl he’d fallen in love with - only more.

He leaned in, kissed your temple, your cheek, then your lips, soft and warm and unhurried. You curled your fingers into his shoulder and let yourself melt into him, finally - truly - in the moment.

But of course, peace didn’t last long.

A smaller body rocketed into the water beside you.

“EOMMA!” Diva called, bobbing up with glee, her little legs kicking as she paddled toward you with no armbands on, completely fearless.

You gasped, meeting her half way. “Jia, you swam to me!”

She threw her arms around your neck, squealing with pride. You beamed, holding her close. “So proud of you, baby.”

But Jiyong was already frowning, wading closer. “Hey, hey, hey - where are your armbands? And we just did suncream!”

Diva blinked innocently at him - then lifted one tiny hand and splashed water right into his face.

“YAH!” Jiyong gasped, dramatically wiping his face.

“Swim away, Eomma! QUICK!” Diva shrieked in excitement, and you burst out laughing as she kicked her little legs, trying to propel both to safety.

Jiyong narrowed his eyes. “You’re both in trouble now.”

But he was smiling. Soft and full of something warm and grateful.

You darted backward with Diva clinging to you, her giggles carrying through the afternoon air, Jiyong play-chasing you both as the sun glinted on the pool water and the world shrank down to only the sounds of splashing and laughter and home.

And somewhere in between his splashing and your laughter, the heaviness in your chest lifted just a little.

You weren’t just seen.

You were loved - completely.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The house was finally quiet.

Diva had passed out with her arms flung over her head, still mumbling about mermaids. Angel was snoozing in her crib, lips puckered around her pacifier. You and Jiyong had tiptoed out, holding your breaths until the door closed behind you.

Back in your bedroom, you dropped onto the mattress in one of his oversized shirts, letting your head fall back with a groan. “My back is wrecked from carrying the girls around. Jia is getting so big. How do you do it everyday, old man?”

Jiyong leaned against the door, watching you - quiet, sharp-eyed, shirt half-buttoned and undone from the top. His gaze dragged down your legs, up the hem of his shirt, lingering.

“Do you want a massage?”

You huffed a laugh. “Does it include a happy ending?"

“Of course,” he said, pushing off the door and walking toward you slow, like he had all night. “I can't resist my wife. In my shirt. Legs bare. Hair still wet. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

You shifted slightly, eyes catching his. “I was trying to survive bedtime, not seduce you.”

He leaned down over you, one hand sliding up your thigh as he braced the other on the mattress. “You’re doing both.”

You bit your lip as he kissed along your jaw, his mouth hot and deliberate, making a lazy trail to your ear.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmured, his voice rough against your skin. “The way you looked in the pool… your legs wrapped around me.”

You tilted your head, letting him in closer, your fingers threading into his hair. “So you were distracted.”

“Completely.”

You smirked. “Must’ve been hard, being a responsible dad and a desperate husband at the same time.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark. “Do you have any idea how badly I want you?”

Your breath caught as he pushed the shirt higher, his hands sliding slow up your thighs. “Show me, then.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He moved over you, mouth finding yours in a kiss. Deep, unhurried, like he wanted to taste you first before anything else.

And just like that, the stress of the day disappeared.

His hands, his body, the weight of him pressing you down - it was the only thing that existed.

You weren’t tired anymore.

You were alive under him.

And the night was just getting started.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

💛

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @breakmeoff , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999 , @fleabagspurplewife , @sylviavf , @ldydeath , @wonyluvi , @deliciousmagazinequeen , @heartubeatusalon

[dantes-jacket]

I’m so happy you were born

Dante x fem reader

Author notes: your birthday is coming up! But Dante has a mission he has to do, will he miss your birthday completely? Hurt/comfort, Dante is a great bf, so much fluff

You’re listening to some music while cleaning up Dante’s bedroom. He always tells you not to and he will “do it later” but later never comes. Plus you enjoy cleaning especially since you’ve been staying with him more recently.

Just as you’re finishing up making the bed you hear a crash and yelling coming from the office. You’re praying it’s not a wild demon wanting to attack Devil May Cry or someone wanting Dante to do a job and trying to trash the place because they didn’t like his answer.

You slowly make your way downstairs not wanting to get in the middle of anything but wanting to make sure everything is okay. When you’re at the bottom of the stairs you peek your head around the corner to look at the office. You don’t see anyone new there and don’t see the place torn up indicating there was no fight. You look down on the ground and see a pile of Dante’s work related stuff and him standing at his desk seething while on the phone.

You come to the conclusion that Dante’s mad at the person on the phone and threw the stuff that was on his desk to the ground. He normally is super chill about jobs whether accepting or declining so this is a bit out of the blue. You decide to stay in your hiding spot and listen in.

“I don’t give a damn if I’m the only one you got. I’m not taking the job!” Dante yells into the phone.

He’s growls at whatever the person on the phone said, “Find someone else.”

Dante then slams his hand not holding the phone on the desk, “I’m not doing a long mission! It’s her birthday next week and I’m not fucking missing it. I’m not doing that to her.”

Oh so he got assigned another long mission. You two have been together for about seven months but most of it you two actually haven’t spent much time together. He’s been sent out on many long missions which keeps you two apart for weeks sometimes even a month. You were so excited when you found out he didn��t have a mission on your birthday. Once you brought it up Dante made a lot of plans for your special day.

Hearing that he might miss the birthday celebration he planned shatters your heart. He has been so excited and kept most of the plans secret to surprise you. You get why he’s so upset and mad now.

A part of you also gets the other side. His job is very important and he is the best. Longer missions normally means a stronger demon. If there is a stronger demon out there causing trouble and pain to innocent people you want Dante to take it. But there is a selfish part of you that just wants you to yourself especially on your birthday.

You focus your attention back onto Dante and whatever the person on the phone made him stiffen. “You can’t cut my pay. You know I need the money…” he says while running a hand through his messy white hair. He’s obviously stressed so you decide to walk over and make your presence known.

You place a hand on his back and rub it up and down. He isn’t wearing his signature leather jacket so you feel all his muscles. He turns to you while wearing a frown. You don’t return the expression, you opt to give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “It’s okay Dante.”

His eyes widen and you can see the conflict behind them. You know he wants to be with you but he can’t turn down the job especially not when he’s getting threatened with a lower pay.

“Fine I’ll do it,” he murmurs while slamming the phone down. He places both hands on the desk and hangs his head. In his movement your hand disconnected from his back. You hold it in their air not knowing if you should comfort him or let him have a moment.

Dante lightly calls your name, “I’m so sorry. Fuck I’m so sorry.”

“Dante.” He doesn’t look at you. “Dante, please look at me.” He turns to look at you and you see just how exhausted he is. He’s been working so much recently and was suppose to have a couple weeks off to rest.

You walk over and place your hands on his cheeks trying to bring as much comfort to him as you can. “Dante it’s not your fault. I get it. Your job is important and you’re so good at it that you can take on anything. You’re helping so many people continue to live in peace, and I’m so proud of you.”

“But you’re so important. You’re the most important part of my life. I promised you and now I can’t even celebrate your birthday. You were so excited-“

You cut him off, “I’m not going to lie yeah I was excited and I’m upset now because of how everything played out. But again you’re needed.”

“Yeah by you.”

“Dante, we can always celebrate when you’re back-“

Now he cuts you off, “No it’s not the same. It’s doesn’t have the same spark and it feels off.”

You bite your lip, “Dante I don’t want to fight about this. The last thing I ever want to do is fight with you before you go on a mission. So let’s just forget about it? There’s always next year and your birthday.”

“Wait but-“

You give him a pleading look to not fight you on this. He closes his mouth and sighs. You rub your thumbs against his cheeks to soothe him. Dante leans down to connects your foreheads.

“I hate this,” he whispers.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” You know there isn’t much to say back but he isn’t holding it against you.

You decided to spent the rest of the day in bed cuddling. Dante has a vice grip on you. He doesn’t want to think how he won’t be holding you like this at this time tomorrow. He’s so mad. You’re sacrificing so much to be with him. He has so much planned and now he can’t do it.

You can tell Dante is not in the moment but you don’t want to bring it up. You don’t want to fight and you’d probably start crying because now it is really hitting you. You’re not going to be spending your birthday with the person you love the most. The day you and him (well mostly him) planned isn’t going to be happening.

You two mostly stay quiet besides some small conversations here and there. As you’re about to fall asleep Dante whispers in your ear, “I promise I’ll make this up to you.” And presses a kiss to your cheek.

You know he will but you also won’t be holding him to it. Anytime you get to spend time with him is special and great. So you don’t need a grand special day, you just need him.

You’re standing by the front door watching Dante finishing getting all his weapons onto his body. After he’s done he walks over to you.

“Please be safe Dante.”

He puts a hand on the back of your head and pulls you into a quick kiss. “I promise. I’ll be home soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You place another quick kiss to his lips. Once you pull back he gives you a quick hug and heads out. Knowing if he looks back or stays a second longer, he won’t leave.

You quickly lock the door when he leaves and lean your back against it. You then let the tears you didn’t know you were holding in fall. You honestly didn’t think it was going to bug you this much. But you were so excited. He saved up so much money to be able to get a reservation to a fancy restaurant and even bought you a new dress to wear to the dinner. He also had the rest of the night planned after.

You wanted it. You want it so bad. It’s so unfair. Maybe you should have been selfish, you should have agreed with him and just let him not go. You should have begged him not to go. You knew he would have if you asked. He’d do anything you asked and you don’t want to take advantage of it.

You stay there sobbing until you drag yourself off the door and do random tasks. Cleaning, showering, cooking, and other things to keep your mind off of this situation.

You follow that schedule for the next couple days. It’s hard because it means you have to accept the truth and the truth hurts so bad. Especially when your birthday is tomorrow. You don’t even know what you’re going to do. You don’t even want to celebrate it anymore. You don’t want a cake, you don’t want presents, you don’t want birthday wishes, you just want Dante.

You walk into your shared room and head to your closet. You go right for some of Dante’s clothes since this is the closest you’re going to get to him at the moment. You then go lay on Dante’s side of the bed trying to soak up every scent of him you can. You bury yourself under the blankets and just hope tomorrow will pass quickly.

You wake up on your birthday really early. Today is definitely trying to play with you. Shouldn’t you have good karma since you weren’t selfish and had Dante go? You stare at the ceiling and contemplate what you should do. You feel like if you stay in Devil May Cry today you’re going to be so depressed all day. You end up deciding to treat yourself to the cafe down the street.

You get ready and head out. The walk is only about five minutes so you get there quickly. You decide to get a tea and muffin. You sit at a seat by the window watching people walk by. A worker brings out your order and you thank her. She nods and head off. You enjoy your muffin while you slowly sip on your tea.

The world really must be after you because all you’ve seen today is couples. In the cafe or walking by the window. The world really wants to remind you that you were suppose to be like that today but you aren’t.

You decide you can’t take any more of this so you knock back the rest of your tea and leave. You can barely hold your tears back as you walk back to Devil May Cry. You can’t wait until you can bury yourself under the blankets again and hide from this awful day.

Little did you know while you were out Dante bursted into Devil May Cry. He’s huffing and puffing with a bouquet of roses in his hand. He calls out to you but doesn’t hear you respond. He quickly strips himself of his weapons and places the roses on the table.

He goes to look around but doesn’t see you anywhere. You must have went out. That makes him a little happy because now he can surprise you more. Dante goes to take a quick shower then set everything up.

He got decorations earlier this week. He starts by hangs up a big “happy birthday” sign. He then blows some balloons and tie them to little weights he got. He is thankful he has extra stamina due to his demon side after blowing up all those balloons.

He then goes and grabs your gifts he hid in his armory. Dante got you a necklace with a red gem stone to match his own. He then got you a camera because you’ve been talking about how upset you were because your old one broke. He topped it all off with getting you some of your favorite treats and snacks.

Dante sets those up on the table in front of the sign then quickly runs to put the roses in a vase. He grabs the confetti he got and throws it on the table to add a little more birthday flare.

He takes a step back and looks at the setup. He is super happy with all it has turned out and he is so happy he finished the mission extra fast. There was no way he was going to miss this. Especially after he heard you crying after he left. He stood outside the door for a couple minutes hoping you’d stop crying. Sometimes he really curses his skillful hearing because hearing you cry shattered him. He told himself he was going to make this quick and celebrate your birthday.

Now he just waits for you to get back.

You’re almost back and you are barely holding it together. You feel some tears slip out. You keep your head down until you get back.

You get back to Devil May Cry and go to open the door. You realized it’s unlocked. You mentally slapped yourself for forgetting to lock it. You open the door and are greeted with a decorated room with your boyfriend standing in the middle.

Dante’s smile widens when he sees you. “Happy birthday!!” He excitedly says.

You stare at him with your jaw dropped. “Dante, is that really you?”

He smiles lightly and nods his head, “Yeah it’s me baby. I’m here.”

Dante opens up his arms and you drop your purse and run over to him. You jump into his arms wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and legs around his waist.

He quickly returns the tight hug. He places a hand on the back of your head to place yours into his neck. You cry into his neck, “You’re really here,” you choke out.

“Yeah I’m here baby. I couldn’t just miss your birthday.”

You squeeze him tighter, “Thank you but how?? I thought the mission was suppose to be long?”

“Yeah it was but I got rid of the demon quickly,” he said all cocky. “Wanna open your presents before you get ready for our reservation?”

You pull your head out of his neck, “You got me gifts!?”

He looks offended by your question, “Of course I did! Why wouldn’t I?” He lets you down but grabs your hand and walks you over to the table.

Dante stands behind you and wraps his arms around you, “Go ahead, open them.”

You start with the biggest bag and pull out a bunch of snacks and treats. “Ohh!! We have snacks for a movie night!”

He laughs at your reaction but guides you to the next gift. You then unwrap the rectangular shaped box and see a camera. Your eyes widen, you’ve been talking about getting one but only brought it up once or twice. He’s been really paying attention. That warms your heart, “We are going to try this out tonight.”

“Whatever you say baby,” he says after kissing the top of your head.

You go to the little box and unwrap it. You see it’s a little jewelry box. You open the box and see a beautiful silver necklace with a red gem stone. It reminds you a lot of his, did he get you this so you two can match? This also must have been so expensive.

“Dante this is all amazing and I can’t thank you enough. But wasn’t this all expensive?”

“Nothing is too expensive for you. I don’t mind, I want to spoil you.”

You spin around in his hold and pull him down into a soft and slow kiss. He tightens his grip on your waist and keeps you close to him. You break and smile up at him, “Thank you Dante. I love you so much.”

He smiles back down at you, “I love you so much too baby. But now it’s time to get ready!”

You laugh at his excitement. You grab your new necklace and head to your shared room. You go to put on the new dress Dante also got you. It’s a long red dress with a slit going up your right leg. You’re having a hard time zipping up the dress so you call Dante.

He walks in and whistles, “Hot damn. You look gorgeous.”

You flush at his comment, “Thank you, but can you help me? I can’t get the zipper.”

Dante walks over and stands behind you. You feel his warm hands on your lower back. You got some of the zipper but couldn’t get all of it. You feel the zipper going down and you roll your eyes, “Dante, up not down.”

He lets out a deep laugh, “Right I knew that.” He then zips up the dress and kiss your bare shoulder. “There you go,” he lightly whispers.

He goes to walk away but you stop him, “Can you help me put the necklace on too?”

He nods and holds out his hand to grab the necklace. You place it in his hand and he goes to stand behind you again. You pull your hair out of way so he can easily clip the necklace. Once he’s done he moves your hair back.

You step away from him to go look in the mirror. You are so glad your little cry session didn’t mess up your makeup too much earlier. You just need to touch up your mascara. You quickly do that and then get a good look at yourself. You look great! You can’t wait for Dante’s reaction to the final look.

You walk back downstairs and see Dante sitting on the couch. “Dante.”

He looks up and stares. He gets up and slowly walks over to you. He holds out his hand and you take it, he has you do a little spin. This has you beaming up at him.

“God baby, you look so fucking breathtaking. I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

You squeeze his hand tightly, “Thank you! You look very handsome too.”

He laughs again at your compliment, “I’m not wearing anything different or new.”

“I know but you’re always handsome, especially when you have that smile on your face.”

He brings up your hand to kiss your knuckle, “Well thank you. You ready to go?”

You just give him a simple nod. He leads you out of Devil May Cry and to a car parked in front. “Uh Dante where did you get this?”

“Oh Enzo let me borrow it. It’s the least he can do for almost making me miss today.”

You two get into the car and he takes off to the restaurant. He places his hand on your thigh rubbing it and down your leg.

The drive was pretty short. Dante quickly finds a spot to park then gets out to lead you inside. When you get to worker they ask for the name and Dante says his name. You two then get lead to your table.

While you two ate, you and Dante talk about his mission and what you “did” while he was gone. When you’re almost done you ask Dante, “So what are we doing the rest of the night? You had this big plan.”

Dante smirks, “Now why would I tell you? That ruins the fun.”

You roll your eyes but decide to go with the flow. He’s been doing great so far, you bet it’s going to stay this way. When you two finish eating Dante pays then leads you back to the car.

Dante pulls out of the parking spot and heads in the opposite direction of Devil May Cry. He drives to the edge of the town and up this uphill terrain. Once he’s at the top he makes sure the back of the car is facing the view.

He parks the car then turns to you, “Stay right here and don’t look back. I’ll come get you in a minute.”

“Okay.” He leans over and kisses your cheek then hops out of the car.

Dante opens the trunk then flattens the back seats down. He then sets up the blankets and pillows he brought in the back. After he gets it perfect he then focuses on the cake box that was back there too. He lights the candles then goes to grab you.

He opens your door and holds out his hand, “Take my hand but close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”

“Okay but you better not let me fall.”

“The only falling I’d let you do is falling for me,” he smirks.

You smack his arm and he just laughs. You take his hand and close your eyes and let him guide you. You walk to the back of the car. He stops you for a second then grabs your hips and lifts you up. You quickly grab his shoulders and hold onto him tightly. He places you in the truck then lets go of you. Dante then grabs the cake and stands in front of you.

“Okay open your eyes.”

You open your eyes to see him standing there with a cake in hand with a bunch of candles. The cake has a cute design with your name and “happy birthday” written on it.

You look back up at him and he’s smiling at your reaction, “Happy birthday baby, make a wish.”

You think for a second about what you want. You then realize what you want. You want this every birthday. Just you and him doing whatever. You say your wish then blow out the candles.

Dante then hops in the trunk beside you and hands you a fork. You two dig into the cake and enjoy the night sky.

“Dante,” you call out to him.

He is stuffing his face full of cake so he makes a humming noise to let you know to continue.

“Thank you for making this birthday so special. It means a lot to me you worked quick so you could surprise me and celebrate my birthday. Thank you for all the incredible gifts and memories. I’ll cherish these always. I love you beyond words Dante.”

“No need to thank me this much. I’m just happy I could make this day so special for you. Seeing you so happy makes me so happy. I’m so happy you enjoyed your birthday with me. I love you so much, you don’t understand.”

You two both lean in to share another kiss. This kiss is messy and not in a heated way. You both have frosting on your lips which is smearing over the both of your lips and chins but you couldn’t care less. You have your favorite person with you and that’s all that matters.

After you two had your fair share of cake and watching the stars you two pack up and head back home. The car ride back you’re almost falling asleep. You force yourself to stay up though so you can spend all the time you can with Dante. You know he’s not going anywhere any time soon but you still have a little fear that this was just a dream and he’s not actually going to be here when you wake up.

Once you’re back you head straight to your shared bedroom and get ready for bed. You get done at record speed because you just want to go to sleep.

Dante is already in bed curled up under the blankets. When he sees you coming to bed he lifts the blankets for you and you dive right in. You cuddle up next to him and instantly fall asleep.

He chuckles a bit and kisses your forehead, “Goodnight and sleep well.”

After a few minutes of silence and he knows for sure you’re asleep he murmurs out, “I’m so happy you were born.”

[eebeewrites]

DILF Mafia! Elf BF x Nanny! Chubby Reader

Synopsis: After getting unexpectedly fired from your previous nanny job, you take the first job offer you can find; even if it seems a bit shady. It's really not too bad; you're living in the most gorgeous house you've ever seen, your paycheck is more than you could ever imagine, their father is kind, and even if their mother is out of the picture, the kids are sweet. However, you quickly learn what kind of occupation pays for such a nice house, and your handsome salary.

Tags: 18+, modern fantasy, mafia au, sub reader, dom love interest, fem chubby reader in mind, parenting au, eventual violence and drug references, eventual smut, smut with plot. Potential slow burn depending on if my adhd cooperates

WC: 4.1k

Continuing with rewriting stories for some of my older OCs, with all of them being somehow connected to each other! Here's the rewrite for my lovable mafia dad Ronan; you can read his original story here. The other connecting stories in this universe can be found here!

You didn’t watch the news much. 

Why would you? Your job kept you plenty busy. Being a live-in nanny was a job that kept you on your toes, days lasting ten, sometimes twenty hours. Yet you were paid well, and you liked the family you lived with well enough. When you were called into your boss’s office, you thought little of it. You were on a first name basis with both parents, and they seemed happy to have you. Yet when you walked into the room, sitting down in the fine upholstered chair, there was a sense of tension lingering in the air. 

“Is…is everything alright?” You asked, breaking the silence. 

The father sighed, mumbling your name under his breath before pausing to composure his thoughts. “We…were incredibly grateful, for your years of service to our family.”

Immediately you knew. You were being fired. 

“Please, know you haven’t done anything wrong, and we’ll give you a glowing recommendation to whatever you pursue next, but…our financial situation has…changed, to say the least.” 

You listened carefully as he vaguely explained what caused such a change, but all you could think about was what to do next. This wasn’t just a job, it was where you lived. It was a good job too; would you find another employer who would compensate you like this? Who’d be so kind and understanding? You weren’t sure. 

It was hard, telling the children you worked with how circumstances had changed. Yet you couldn’t wallow for long; perhaps two weeks' notice was generous in some fields, but it still didn’t feel like nearly enough time. You spent every waking minute of your free time scouring job offers, yet none of them came close to matching what you were making now.

All but one. It looked sketchy; a Craigslist ad advertising $10,000 a month for a live-in nanny; fifty miles outside of the city. It looked like a scam, but you were just desperate enough to give it a shot. Like any other job, you submitted your resume and hoped for a response. 

You got one quickly, within just a few hours. The message was short and sweet; the top of the message read just “INTERVIEW” alongside a date, time, and address; tomorrow at six PM. The time wasn’t too out of the ordinary, given half the reason you were hired was due to parents needing to work. 

You drove over to the address; despite the eerily concise response and quiet drive, the house was impressive; right on the water, not another house for miles, but built with the same grandiose architecture as the houses of other families you had worked with. 

Despite the beauty of the house, you couldn’t help but be a bit on edge. You looked around, noticing quite a few cameras. Not the most abnormal thing you had ever seen, most people with this kind of wealth invested heavily in security. Still, the feeling of being watched was more intense than other interviews. 

You walked up to the door, and before you could even knock, the door opened. Standing before you was a well-dressed man; Elvish, fit, blonde hair and pale skin, and oddly familiar. You could’ve sworn you had seen him before; perhaps in the newspaper or on television? It’d make sense, given the fancy house. “Hey. The nanny, I assume?” 

“That’s right.”

“Great. Come on in.” 

You followed him inside, looking around at the tall ceiling of the foyer. The walls were adorned with all sorts of paintings in various styles, some much older than the other. You had seen both old and new money, but it was apparent they were the first. 

He led you over to the living room, “just uh, sit there for a moment. He’s still in a meeting. My brother, I mean.”

“Oh, that’s no problem.” The more you looked at the man, the more certain you became. You had seen him somewhere before. You couldn’t pinpoint where, but you were sure of it. He looked around the room, tapping his foot impatiently. “You do this a lot?” He asked. Clearly, he hadn’t read your resume. 

“For about a decade, yes.” 

“Nice. He should be done any minute.”

“That’s fine. I um,” you were given no other information outside of the interview. Most families at least told you their occupation. “May I ask what he does? Your brother?”

“Ah, intrigued I see?” He asked with a smile. “We own several businesses across the city. He runs the back-end, I run the front-end. After all, someone’s gotta be a pretty face,” he laughed. “No offense to him. Well, maybe just a little,” he joked. “You know the big casino downtown?” 

You nodded. 

“Yeah, that’s us.”

You looked around the room. There weren’t many signs of children from what you had seen, the house so far seemingly clean and well-organized; something you didn’t see often when nannying. “How many children does he have?”

“Two. Twins. Spoiled little bastards,” he laughed again, but you weren’t sure if he was joking. You heard a door open, and out came a man. Just like his brother, he was well dressed; long blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, pointed ears clear to see. “Ah, so nice of you to join us.”

“Sorry, things got a little heated,” he said with an awkward laugh. “I’ll take it from here, Finn.” 

“Of course,” his brother gave both of you a nod and left. 

“So, let’s get started,” he held out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Ronan, the father.” 

He seemed nice enough. Once his brother left, the interview felt fairly…normal. He asked you about your job history, your education, if you’d be comfortable living with them, all sorts of standard interview questions. By all metrics, the interview seemed to be going well. 

He walked you around the house, giving you a tour of the property. The first floor of the house was immaculate, but the second floor made it obvious he had children. 

“They’re twins,” he said. “Five years old, one boy, one girl.” He seemed to light up when he spoke of them. His brother wasn’t entirely wrong about them being spoiled. Each had their own sizable bedroom, along with a playroom that envied any you had ever seen; it even had a sink and refrigerator in it. All sorts of shelves lined the wall with materials for arts and crafts, toys, dress-up costumes, anything a kid could want. “Adriel’s really into dinosaurs and animals and stuff, and Amara’s really good at ballet. Well, I don’t know for sure, but she says she is, so I take her word for it,” he laughed. 

Throughout all of your conversations, never once did he mention the mother of these children. You were having a good time, he seemed sweet, but you couldn’t help but be curious. Was she not in the picture? Perhaps she worked? You weren’t sure. 

“So…where are they now?” You asked, now standing at the end of the deck facing out onto the water. You didn’t expect to meet the children on the first interview, but you were curious why they seemingly weren’t around. 

“Oh, I had their cousin take them out for a few hours. He’s uh, he’s in college, but you know, family business,” he shrugged. “A lot of people come around here, it’s uh, kind of our base of operations, in a way,” he said with a laugh. “But that’s about it. So…” 

“So?”

“You’ve got the job, if you’d like it.”

A huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. You didn’t question the speed of it all; your new job was secured. “I’ll take it.”

——

Leaving your last family was emotional. You thought you were prepared, yet you couldn’t help but shed a few tears seeing those kids for the last time. 

Arriving on your first day with your new family, you were much more nervous than you had been for other first days. What were you thinking, taking a job without even meeting the kids first? 

You had elected not to unpack your things right away, not wanting to overwhelm the twins you had heard so much about. You knocked on the door, and this time, your employer had answered. 

He seemed happy to see you, again well-dressed in a white shirt, slacks, vest, and tie. This time though, his sleeves were rolled up, revealing several tattoos. You couldn’t get a long enough look to discern what they all were, but you could tell there were quite a lot of them. 

“Hey, come on in. I uh, gave them a bit of a rundown, and they’re super excited to meet you.” You followed him inside, walking towards the stairs, seeing two shadows quickly disappear as you walked up. 

You followed Ronan to their playroom, both of them sitting on one of the couches. Both of the children seemed to struggle to sit still, although in different ways. The boy seemed nervous, perhaps even a little scared as he stared down at the floor and away from you. The girl on the other hand was brimming with excitement, wide eyes tracking your movements as you sat down across from them. 

He introduced you to them, “she’s the person who’s going to help take care of you both while I’m working.” 

The little girl wasted no time getting up and grabbing what appeared to be a bunch of construction paper stapled together. She sat down in between you and her father, leaving the other little boy alone. “I made this. It’s a book about me and my brother.” 

“Oh, that’s very-” you instinctively reached to grab it, thinking she was giving it to you, but she pulled away, opening up the ‘book’.

“I’m gonna read it to you.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

Her brother moved closer, sitting on the floor next to the couch as she started to read. The pages were filled with crude drawings of her, her brother, and other family members.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Ronan smiled, leaving the room as if to give you some time to bond with both of the children. 

“‘My name is Amara. I’m five. I love ballet and chocolate and I can do a handstand,’” she spoke slowly as she read her own words, scribbled down in crayon. It was quite impressive for a five year old. She turned to face you, “do you wanna see me do a handstand?” 

The last thing you needed on your first day was something going wrong. “Maybe a little bit later. Why don’t you keep reading me your book?”

She nodded, turning the page. “‘My brother is named Adriel’. That’s Adriel,” she said as she pointed at her brother. 

“Hi,” he said quietly. 

“‘Adriel is shy but likes dinosaurs and rocks. He’s a picky eater and he wears glasses.’ Sometimes he doesn’t like to talk. But that’s okay.” 

You gave him a warm smile, and he seemed to relax a little bit. 

She turned the page yet again, this time showing a drawing of the house, several stick figures in front of it, one of whom was crossed out with a large red X. “That’s me, and daddy, and Adriel. That’s mommy, but she’s not here anymore, so that’s why she’s crossed out.” She pointed to a few other figures, one in a suit and the other in a skirt. “That’s Uncle Finn, he’s kinda scary sometimes, but he brings us cool stuff from the city. That’s Callon, he’s our cousin. He wears really cool clothes and has a boyfriend, but I’m not supposed to tell you that.” 

The little boy finally spoke up. “His boyfriend looks scary, but he’s nice. Him and his other friend played video games with me, and they brought us pizza.”

She pointed to two other people in the background, “Cedric is our uncle, I think. He’s kinda quiet when he’s here, but he’s really smart. And then that’s Serena, she’s mean sometimes, but she helps us if we get sick.”

It was quite a group to remember. “And do all of these people live here at the house?” 

“Only sometimes. They all usually come over once a week for daddy’s big meeting, but sometimes they come  stay if it’s an emergency.” You weren’t sure what kind of emergency she was referring to, but you didn’t ask. “Sometimes there’s other people that daddy says we’re related to, but I don’t know all their names. I think we’re related to a lot of people. But that’s it!” She exclaimed proudly as she shut the book. 

You spent the next few hours playing and getting to know them. Amara seemed as if she could talk for hours and hours, whereas Adriel still seemed a little hesitant at times. Still, you felt as if things were going well, the rest of your first night uneventful. You had worked for quite a few rich families, but never one so wealthy. You ran into even more faces as the day went on, ones Amara’s book hadn’t covered; a personal chef, a housekeeper, a gardener, and other household staff came and went as the day went on, yet you hadn’t heard any names you recognized from Amara’s story. It made your job easy; you didn’t need to cook or clean, you could devote all your attention to taking care of them. 

You got them cleaned up after dinner, reading them both a story before bed. They scampered off to their rooms, and as far as you knew, your work was done. There were still a few things left in your car, so you decided to finish unpacking. You walked out through the garage, only to find nearly every spot was now occupied, along with a few cars out front. When did all these people show up? And where were they? 

You brought the rest of your things inside, and the house was suspiciously quiet. There were more people here than before, you were sure of it. You walked back down to the first floor, unable to hear any additional voices as you walked between each room. You decided to look around, but when you heard footsteps from below, you panicked. It had to be the door that led to the basement; you moved behind one of the walls dividing the hallway, the kitchen, and the living room. You weren’t sure why you were so on edge; you had no reason to be. Yet something felt…off. Why was he having a meeting this late at night? How’d they get inside undetected? You hid behind the wall; so long as whoever was approaching stayed in the kitchen, you should be able to stay undetected. 

“I’m so fucking tired of this shit,” said a man’s voice. He sounded younger, perhaps in his twenties, yet his tone was one of exhaustion. “I don’t get it. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable!”

“Not really,” it was a woman’s voice this time, sounding a bit older; perhaps thirties or forties? Although, this was a family of elves; it was highly likely your guesses were completely off. “Although, it’s not…uncommon, in our field.”

“In our field,” he repeated in a mocking tone. “It’s weird. Besides, just because I was alright with it once, did they think I’d be willing to do that kind of shit forever?”

“Alice did.”

“Well, Alice is a cunt, so there’s that.”

Silence lingered between the two of them, a brief moment of tension before they started to laugh, the smell of cigarette smoke wafting towards you. 

“You gotta be careful kid,” she paused, presumably taking a drag from a cigarette. “Ronan hears you saying that shit, he’s gonna beat your ass.”

They were talking about your boss. Who was this ‘Alice’ person? 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just…if I did it…I mean fuck, what would I tell him? ‘Sorry I cheated on you, my dad needs blackmail material on a CEO, hope that’s okay.’ Yeah, no.”

The statement left you in shock; did running a business like this really mean accruing that many enemies? Who was making this boy blackmail a CEO? Why? Ronan didn’t mention having any other children. Perhaps this was his brother’s son? You tried to remember his name, but you had learned so many names today it was lost on you, still in shock over the boy’s declaration. 

“Well…” the woman hesitated. “You wouldn’t need to tell him.”  

“Yeah, but I’m not fucking evil. By the way,” he continued. “You missed a spot, last job. He got all freaked out, I had to tell him I fell through a window.”

“Did he believe you?”

“Of course not, he’s not an idiot.”  

She sighed, “much to your dismay, you’re not the only one I have to patch up. Your paper cuts are not as important as others gunshot wounds. Be more careful.” 

You thought back to Amara’s words; “And then that’s Serena, she’s mean sometimes, but she helps us if we get sick.” Was it common for rich families like this one to have a healer on-call? Was she being facetious? She had to be. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I need to get back to school, I have class tomorrow,” the boy sighed, both of them starting to walk off. Once you couldn’t hear their footsteps, you walked back to your room. You weren’t necessarily afraid, but it was clear something wasn’t right. 

You tried not to think about it. You had taken the job, the kids were sweet, and you really shouldn’t have been listening in on them anyway. 

Still; gunshot wounds?

You had almost finished getting ready for bed when you heard a light knock on the door, the clock reading 10:47. 

You answered it, and there was your boss Ronan. “Hey, I know it’s super late, but-”

“That’s okay,” you tried to stifle a yawn but failed. “What’s up?”

“I don’t wanna take too much of your time, but I just wanted to ask if everything went alright? They seem to really like you, I just didn't want you to feel like I was hovering over you, and then I had my meeting, but I just wanted to check-in.”

You nodded, “things went well, I think. I’m glad you think so.” You had so many questions you wanted to ask, but you kept things brief. “Do your meetings usually go this late?”

“Yeah, it uh…it can be tricky getting everyone’s schedules to align, so you know. Is what it is. Well, thank you for your hard work, let me know if you need anything.” 

You quickly learned he was a busy man. A kind father, doing his best to spend time with the two kids while running a collection of successful businesses. As days passed, you started to notice the way others within the house looked at you.

It was a look of disgust, or fear, but hesitancy; as if there was something they all knew that you just didn’t. You tried not to pay it any mind, but couldn’t help but return to the conversation you overheard the first night. 

The boy seemed to have grown attached to you rather quickly, Adriel always taking the chance to hold your hand or lay on your shoulder. It made sense, given how he’d lost his own mother. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d be ‘filling in’, so to speak. Amara seemed to like you, but she wasn’t nearly as clingy, opting instead to show you things, like her drawings or dances she had made up. 

“You’re good at being nice,” the little boy mumbled as Amara twirled around the room, a movie playing quietly as Adriel was about to drift off to sleep. 

“Oh, well thank you. I try my best.” 

“There’s a lot of people being mean lately. But you’re nice.” Before you could question what he said, he was asleep. You looked back over to Amara, blissfully unaware of the world around her. Yet something about the boy’s words felt almost cryptic. You were curious, but…you didn’t want to lose this job. So, you decided ignorance was bliss.

You were woken up in the middle of the night by a knock on your door, a tiny voice calling out your name. Technically, these were your off hours, you shouldn’t need to do anything; but you weren’t going to just turn the kid away. You opened the door, and there was Amara, standing there in her pink pajamas. 

“Hi.”

You yawned, rubbing your eyes, “hi, what’s going on?” 

“Um…can I sit with you for a bit? I…I can’t sleep.” 

She was so sweet, you couldn’t say no. Between her and her brother, she seemed to be much more independent, being the shoulder for him to cry on often. Yet she had gone through the very same things he had with their mother gone; you were more than happy to sit with her. “Sure.”

She walked in your room, heading for the window. She looked outside, your room facing the dock down below, the moonlight reflecting on the water. Her eyes widened, letting out a gasp. “Boat! The boat’s out!” 

You were still half asleep, you hadn’t even registered the quiet hum of a boat engine coming from outside. You looked out, and sure enough, there was a boat. Despite the lights being out, the people down at the dock didn’t bother to quiet their voices. One of them was almost definitely Ronan. Him and his brother were standing out at the dock, calling out to whoever was on the boat. 

“Can you open the window? I want to say hi to daddy.” 

“Sure, but…just wait a moment, we don’t want to interrupt him if he’s…”

What was he doing?

“We don’t want to interrupt him if he’s working.” You opened the window, their conversation much easier to hear. 

“Ronan, I promise you, every source I have has told me this address is still off the feds radar,” said his brother, speaking at a normal volume.

“It’s not the feds I’m worried about. The feds may not see it, but every other organization will make the connection once the news breaks.” 

“Even so. The only people that come here are blood. They’re more likely to hit me in the city than come all the way out here. The most likely scenario is they’re gonna go after the safehouse up North. We know that, we can prepare for that.”

“No, we don’t know that.”

“Yes, we do. These people are nothing if not predictable. And again, they can’t act on information they don’t have. Besides, name one other time you’ve seen anyone else out here on the water. No one comes through here, it’s your own little oasis. Now come on, let him finish the job, and we can determine our plans for the safehouse tomorrow. Hells, they won’t even know he’s gone until a week I’d say.” 

He relented, letting out a sigh. “Fine. But I want someone out here for the next month. Just in case.”

“I can arrange that.” Finn turned to look back at the boat, walking back to the edge of the dock away from the window. He held his hands up to his face, amplifying his voice. “Hey, Callon?”

“Yeah?” His voice was barely audible, but it sounded like the man you overheard before in the kitchen. 

“You can drop it now. Well…actually, back the boat up just a little more.” You could hear the boy groan, before the boat engine kicked back on. “Yeah, right there’s good, international waters and all that.” 

You heard the sound of something falling into the water, the waves slowly rippling forward. Whatever he dropped into the water, it must’ve been heavy. He drove the boat back to the dock, and when he got out you saw he wasn’t dressed the same as Ronan and his brother; instead of the fine suit, he was sporting an outfit of all black, complete with a mask over his face. As soon as the boat engine was off, the three of them on the dock, Amara stuck her head out the window and called out to them. 

“Hi!” 

The three of them looked up at the window. Ronan and Finn looked horrified, while her cousin, Callon, just laughed, walking back inside. You stared back at them, all of you in disbelief. Finn gave Ronan a pat on the shoulder before following Callon inside, Ronan now the only one looking back at you.

“So…I suppose we need to talk about some things.”

thanks for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it! definitely going for more of a slow burn with him, but who knows how long that slow burn is going to last. lots of setup in this first chapter, but i hope you liked it!! also for those who read the old version, pls no spoilers for anyone in the comments! this is an alternate version of Ronan's story, so some things will be a bit different :D

RONAN TAGLIST: @damnitimasimp @sketchlove @madam8 @jar0fhoney @hikaakox @gurlie919

[dandelionsresilience]

I’m rlly hope im not bothering u but i just…need an ear to listen/a shoulder to cry on.

I’m so exhausted. Idk if I’ll even be able to play Minecraft anymore due to everything going on which sucks cuz this game was a huge part of my childhood and brought me a bit of peace after the election last year when I started playing to distract myself i haven’t played it for awhile ago even before the BDS announced the boycott. I keep seeing ppl that it’s still fine to play the game offline and just not spend any money on it(which is something I am doing and do plan on 🏴‍☠️ the movie) and seeing ppl saying they opposite which is making me super confused and being scared to death to even touch the game and for all we know Palestine probably won’t be free in my lifetime(or never) along with Microsoft not pulling out of supporting isreal, sellers for jfashion and anime merch I like have stopped shipping to the US and idk how long it’ll be temporary for or if it’ll be forever, Trump says he wants to run for a third term, everything keeps getting more expensive, I now have to fear ghe possibility getting round up and thrown into a camp/asylum and or be experimented on or killed thanks to RFK jr making a few disease tracking thingy for autism, and I know I need to hold onto hope and keep fighting but everything overall just keeps getting so much more worse and not better and everyday I resent anti voters and third party voters who willingly chose not to vote blue and refusing to prevent all of this from happening(even if Trump did cheat theyre still asswipes)…

I can’t believe I have to share the same planet with these wastes of oxygen. I’m so exhausted..I’m so tired..part of me wishes I should’ve died on election night cuz at least then I wouldn’t be going through this endless loop of pain and despair and watching as everything slowly crumbles around me. I just want it all to end. I’m so tired. I’m tired seeing everything fall apart with nothing improving whatsoever majorly. Why did my parents bring me into this world? I wish i hadn’t been born at all

thank you for reaching out! it’s completely normal to feel afraid and hopeless under these circumstances, you’re definitely not alone in that. I’m so sorry it’s affecting you like this. the thing I’m good at online is providing resources, so for a more sympathetic shoulder to cry on, please consider contacting a “warmline” - like a hotline, but for less urgent situations.

“the primary ask from organizers [of the Microsoft boycott] is to help deprive Microsoft of revenue.” simply playing a game that you already own does not generate revenue, as long as you avoid microtransactions. don’t give them money, and if it doesn’t have ads, you’re good. they literally don’t even know if you’re playing offline, so there’s no possible way they could benefit. plus, I would argue that if participating in a boycott would harm you (eg. making you “scared to death” to play a game you love), the difference one individual will make to the cause does not outweigh your personal wellbeing - but again, just playing the game is compliant with the boycott’s goal of impeding revenue

for merch that’s no longer sold in the US, you can try Etsy, thrift shops, or making your own.

as an Autistic person myself, I’m also worried about what RFK’s statements could lead to. I would recommend that anyone not yet diagnosed should postpone seeking diagnosis until after this administration and its policies end, just to be on the safe side. while diagnosis can of course be beneficial, the only “treatment” that many insurance companies will cover is ABA, which is known to be abusive and traumatizing (TW the latter link is upsetting, just sharing for those who don’t know), and most accommodations that diagnosis would legally entitle you to can be requested more informally, especially in a school/university setting (despite my diagnosis, my college refused to officially give me any of the accommodations my psychiatrist recommended, but I got most of what I needed by speaking to individual professors). As for what to do about it, you can get involved with Autistic advocacy groups like ASAN (they have a tumblr too), AASPIRE, or the Autism Society

in response to your last paragraph, I seriously urge you to PLEASE call a hotline - there are people who are trained to listen and help - and get therapy if you can. despair is a natural response to everything that’s happening, but you’re more important than all of that. I’ve been there; the worst of it for me was around a decade ago now, and in the last few years I’ve genuinely felt hope. it really, truly, does get so much better, as long as you’re here to see it.

focus small, on yourself and your family. 1. what’s good about this exact moment? for me, it’s beautiful weather out and I get to see the new leaves coming in on all the trees. 2. what can you do to make right now just a little bit better? if I weren’t at work, I might get a cup of tea to enjoy in the sun. 3. if you feel up to it, what can you do right now to make tomorrow a little better? maybe when I get home I’ll wash a couple dishes so I can drink from a clean cup in the morning; on a somewhat longer timescale, I garden - check out my dirt (I promise there’s seeds in there lmao) - and this gives me hope.

[doingthisfortherapydotcom]

“‘CUZ I HAVEN’T LOST YET, GENIUS. I MAY HAVE LOST THE BATTLE BUT I’M STILL HERE AND AS LONG AS I’M STILL HERE THERE’S WAR TO BE HAD. AND HOW MANY BILLS HAVE YOU HEARD OF THAT DIED? LIKE REALLY DIED, ZIP, BLIPPED OUT OF EXISTENCE AND WILL NEVER COME BACK? ZERO,” he cackled at that last statement, “MAN YOU MUST BE DESPERATE! CLINGING ONTO SOME OLD ADDAGE LIKE THAT. SURE STANFORD, YA NEED TO BE TUCKED INTO BED AND KISSED GOODNIGHT, TOO?”

He drummed his nail caps along the table as he listened to Hench’s recollection of events in Weirdmageddon. He pressed his tongue to the underside of his eyeball, making it bulge just slightly until he blinked. He just wished him luck?

“OKAY I MEANT DYING AS IN NOT COMING BACK BUT I GET HOW THAT GETS CONFUSING. ENGLISH REALLY SHOULD HAVE A WORD FOR FINAL DEATH, ITS NOT INCLUSIVE TO US GOD TYPES. BUT UH, THANKS. BEST OF LUCK IN YOURS TOO, WHATEVER THEY ARE— PROBABLY FINDING YOUR FAMILY AND GETTING BACK TO ‘EM. SAY, YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHERE THEY ARE?”

“MY WEIRDMAGEDDON WAS GREAT! FOR THREE DAYS. I HAD YOU CAPTURED, I TRIED TALKING CIVILLY TO GET THE EQUATION FROM YOU BUT YOU WERE TOO STUBBORN.. AND THEN WHEN THE TORTURE DIDN’T WORK I CAPTURED YOUR FAMILY BUT THOSE LITTLE BRATS FOR KIDS GOT OUT. SO I LEFT YOU AND YOUR BROTHER IN A CAGE TOGETHER WHILE I HUNTED THEM DOWN AND DRAGGED THEM BACK. I THREATENED TO KILL SHOOTING STAR WHEN YOU FINALLY AGREED TO GIVE ME THE EQUATION, EXCEPT IT WAS ACTUALLY STANLEY WEARING YOUR CLOTHES. I WENT INSIDE HIS MIND AND YOU SHOT HIM WITH A MEMORY ERASING GUN. NOT MY BEST WORK.”

He waited as Hench drew up their next round of hangman, stretching out his legs a little. His eye closed as if pleased by the sensation as his legs curled upward, feet pointed flat against the table until he released with a small groan. Not that he had muscles to stretch but he could feel blood flowing to them, rather nonchalant in discussing his own defeat.

“OH WELL. I’VE ALREADY GOT PLANS FOR WEIRDMAGEDDON 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO. I’M THINKING A LIGHTNINGNADO TEARING ACROSS THE LAND WITH A HURRICANE THE SIZE OF THE ONES ON JUPITER WILL DO THE TRICK. AFTER I GET THAT EQUATION, OF COURSE.”

He only took his legs off the table and sat up when Hench slid the game over toward him. He squinted down at the many questions, always questions with a Sixer.

“Z, H, G, R, V! AND WE WERE MIDDLE CLASS WITH AVERAGE COOKING. BETTER THAN MOST OF THE GOOP THE THERAPRISM FEEDS US.”

He slid the paper back over to Hench, face falling as he thought to himself. His eye narrowed, yellow light flickering like a wicked candle that cast shadows- but the shadows were much more dramatic to him than they should’ve been, framing harsher colored light. And burning- a deep burning sensation writhed under his skin like the insides of his flesh were pressed to hot coals. The world around him became blurs of color and fuzzy shapes, static filled his mind. In his body, images flickered across him like a screen, a feathered serpent with an insect’s head, an flat place consumed by bright blue fire, a belt of stars depicting strange zodiacs, there were words on the tip of his tongue…

He stiffened and blinked, pictures disappearing. “I DON’T REMEMBER.”

Hello, I have brought patient Bill Cipher from Theraprism 2x4e^27 as per our discussion. Is Stanford Pines ready to meet him or is there worry about the repercussion?

@doingthisfortherapydotcom

"Welcome! It's a pleasure to have one of your patients visiting our humble facility! Stanford has been shown to have bouts of aggression but all should be fine with careful monitoring!"

[willowbirds]

Me when Kid & Leveret

[sadgirlautumn]

halsey actually might be one of the most slept on artists ever and it makes me sick

[bisexualjonahsimms]

i need to make a playlist of music i think brennan would listen to

[notpaulsguitar]

not my usual content but i must promote a band that i enjoy besides kiss

can’t recommend Ghost to everyone highly enough. if you enjoy rock and metal (as i know most if not all of you do) then i recommend them even more

a new era is here, new papa, get in on the action while it’s still starting

[becauseplot]

God fuck god I don’t listen to a lot of Lemon Demon but DAMN they really hit it out of the park with Touch-Tone Telephone. Like I’ve been obsessing over this song for years now, how good it is at story telling and like, character building?? Which is WILD for a song to accomplish, yet the vision is so clear in my head. You can really hear all the layers to this character the song creates. The wild rhythm. The manic, almost (definitely) desperate tempo, gives you the image that someone is running, chasing something, on the verge of something incredible. The dramatic flare of the strings melding with the odd sound effect or vocalization to create an image of someone brilliant but downright crazy. The flipping of the emotion in the delivery: confident, yet desperate. Like, without getting too much into the lyrics themselves, the delivery of “And like you I’m a genius before my time! Disbelieving, that’s the real crime!” gives me chills every time; the POV trying desperately to reach out to ‘you,’ the one they’re speaking to, trying to get you to understand, to see what they see, please, please listen to me I’m not crazy, they’re after me, you have to listen to me please!! Please!!! Try to understand!!!!! It’s all there, don’t you see why can’t you just see?!!

[johnlacena]

@staff comments from an engineer in the tags.

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[joelsgoldrush]

“never is a promise” | 12.4k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ mentions of drinking. angst. some fluff. old man!logan x caregiver!reader. implied age gap (reader’s in her twenties). miscommunication. slow burn. pining. reader is shorter than logan and has long hair. charles in his cupid era. petnames. minor injuries. wound tending. mentions of blood. virgin!reader. dirty talk. cum shots. fingering. handjobs. oral sex (m receiving). loving sex. sex with a lot of feelings (is that a tag?). unprotected p in v.

A/N: i just want to fall in love with him. that’s it. that’s the reason why i wrote this long ass fic 😭 while doing so, i had “never is a promise” by fiona apple and “cool about it” by boygenius on repeat. give them a try if you haven’t listened to them (your lives will be CHANGED) (also, thank you for reading <3)

No matter how often you play chess with Charles, you never manage to beat him. 

“You’ve been staring at that knight for five minutes. It’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chuckling at his sarcasm, you fold your hands in your lap, lifting your eyebrows in mock surrender. “Okay, I get it. You’re the master of chess,” leaning back in the chair, you cross one leg over the other. “Can we play something else?”

“I’m quite entertained, thank you,” Charles says, sliding the board closer to you across the table. “Your turn.”

“How is it that you don’t get tired of this game?” you mutter under your breath, eyes fixed on the board as you weigh your options, hovering your hand indecisively over the chess pieces. 

“Please do something before I’m forced to make a dash for the toilet.” He hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose—a telltale sign of one of his irritable days.

His words spur you into action, encouraging you to finally slide the knight into position. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. “You go now.”

Charles doesn’t hesitate, and he moves a bishop. “Check.”

Fuck. You hadn’t seen that coming. “I’d prefer to walk away with my pride,” you joke, pushing your chair back and pretending to lose interest in the board.

That makes him smirk, a barely there grin dangling on the corners of his wrinkled lips. The truth is, you wouldn’t stop playing for anything in the world—not even if this old man kicks your ass every single time he suggests playing chess. “You’re not out of the game yet.”

Quietness settles over the tank while you allow yourself some time to come up with a new strategy. After a moment, you decide to go for a pawn, using it to block his bishop.

He doesn’t stop grinning, studying your move with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Not bad, but you’ve left your king exposed.”

You gape at the board, your fragile confidence faltering for a split second. "I still have some pieces in play."

Charles nods, his brows drawing together in thoughtful consideration. "True. But sometimes, it’s not about how many pieces you have left—” He reaches out, carefully sliding his queen across the board. "It’s about where you place them.” He relaxes, hunching over, his eyes searching for yours. A smile that’s all teeth welcomes you. “Checkmate."

“Damn.” You blow out your cheeks, your gaze tracing the path of his queen. Somehow, he’s trapped your king with no easy way out.

He leans back with a satisfied grin. “That’s three games in a row. My suggestion is that you start rethinking your strategy.”

“Or maybe you’re just a better player,” you admit, a mix of frustration and admiration palpable in your tone. “No more chess for today, though.” You stand up from your seat, gathering the board and chess pieces. As usual, they find their place under Charles’ bed, and you turn back to him, beaming with delight. “I think you owe me one after all this.”

“You’re a terrible loser, my dear,” he says, his eyes twinkling as they take you in. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

At that exact moment, you hear the familiar creak of the tank’s door opening, followed by a cough you immediately recognize.

Without thinking, you straighten your back as Logan steps into the room. Charles notices it, but says nothing in return.

It was an infatuation—or at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself of. Logan is a very good-looking man, probably the most handsome you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The fact that you live with him doesn’t help at all. You think that if you only saw him occasionally, this—this anxiety that grips you whenever he’s around or when you hear his voice—wouldn’t happen in the first place.

Whether it’s good or bad luck, you’ve been sleeping under the same roof as him for over a year, and the crush you’ve had since the first time you exchanged words with him only seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

What you figure out over time is that men like Logan aren’t the dating type. He’s never brought anyone home, and for that, you’re secretly grateful. The last thing you need is to see him with another woman—thank you very much. Still, the thought gnaws at you: he could easily be meeting someone elsewhere.

In fact, it’s more than likely that he’s hooking up with other people. It doesn’t have to be at—

Alright. You don’t need this either.

Logan’s heavy footsteps resonate even louder, his presence more imposing, and he seems especially pissed off. Then again, he always has that demeanor—angry, grumpy, locked in a constant battle with life.

But today… today, you haven’t seen him this troubled in weeks.

“Look who’s joined us,” Charles mumbles, steering his motorized chair to meet him halfway. The chair bumps against Logan’s legs with a thud that sounds almost cartoonish, and Charles scrunches up his nose, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “You smell like shit.”

“Yeah, I missed you too, Pop,” Logan grunts, shoving his hand into the pocket of his suit, searching for something. That’s when you notice the bloodstains on his shirt, smeared across his chest, and the missing buttons at the top. Your breath catches in your throat, and you bite your tongue to keep from asking any foolish questions. “They gave me new ones,” he mutters, looking you in the eye as he tosses the pill bottle at you.

You leap forward to catch it mid-air, your heart skipping a beat. Logan holds your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before giving a slight nod and turning on his heel to storm out of the tank.

When your attention goes back to Charles, you see how his eyes remain locked on the pills you’re holding, his head lowering in defeat. “He’s waiting for me to die.”

“Don’t say that.” You squat to be at his eye level, momentarily hiding the meds from his view. Still, you struggle to make him shift his gaze. “He’s taking care of you, which is something completely different.” You place your hand on top of his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You’ve had this same conversation innumerable times, yet each time feels like the first. He offers you a melancholic but knowing look as you softly say: “You have to take them, Charles. I’m sorry.”

He raises a hand, his trembling fingers curling around your wrist, examining you, trying to find an answer in the lines. “Don’t be. At least you’re here.”

“I’m sure Logan’s tired; that’s why he doesn’t stay any longer. Haven’t you seen him?” You rise to your feet, moving behind him to guide his chair. The tank sort of has a chill in the air, metallic walls that seem to press in around you both. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to play chess with him. Rest assured I’ll always let you win,” you murmur next to his ear, succeeding in eliciting a chuckle from him.

After that, you help him with his daily routine. Charles isn’t heavy, and you manage to get him onto the bed, his frail body yielding to your gentle support.

You slip the rest of his body beneath the blankets, tucking him in carefully before handing him two pills and a glass of water. “All the way down, okay? And I wanna see that tongue after you swallow them.”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under, covered in dust and dirt. Charles sticks his tongue out, putting the glass down on his nightstand. “Happy?”

“You’ve got no idea how much,” you say, adjusting the covers. The silence of the tank surrounds you both, and you can sense his gaze lingering on you. You flick your eyes up, furrowing your brows as you sit in the small space beside him on the mattress. “What is it?”

“You fancy him, don’t you?”

Freezing on the spot, your eyes narrow. “I—I don’t—” you trail off, pushing the words out with some effort. “Are you trying to read my mind?”

His whole chest rumbles with laughter under your touch. He finds your hand once again, intertwining your fingers with his. “Don’t be so naïve. I don’t need my abilities to see the way you get all flustered when he passes by. Why do you think they say older people are wiser?” he inquires, his lips forming a straight line. “We’ve lived too much not to notice the most common things, my dear—and let me tell you that you do a horrible job at pretending.”

“Of course I like him. Logan’s a good man, he keeps us safe.” You glance down at your hands—his, weak and delicate, in evident contrast to your own. “I’m not in love with him, Cupid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him years ago,” Charles says, his eyes glazing over as he drifts back into the past. His body remains here, within the confines of the room, but his mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away. You give his hand a gentle tug, trying to bring him back. “When we took him in, he was pursuing a career as a cage fighter. I had never seen anyone like him in all my years of educating mutants. He was so… different from the rest. Reserved, didn’t talk much at first. But I gave him a family, I—” His voice falters, overcome by his own emotions. 

That’s when you realize he’s no longer with you, his gaze unfocused, looking around the tank as if seeing it for the first time. It pains you to see him like this, completely disoriented and disconnected from reality.

“Why are we here? What has happened to the rest? Has he told you anything?”

These are the questions he asks every day without fail—questions that you can’t, nor want, to answer. Since you’re not exactly sure the explanation would soothe his troubled mind, you feel forced to play dumb.

“I don’t know, Charles. We don’t really talk that much, Logan and I.” You stand from the bed, not without pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before. You smile at him, hoping he doesn’t realize the gesture lacks authenticity. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll let you know if I hear anything worth sharing.”

Once you close the door behind you, you settle back into it, releasing a shaky breath. Being Charles’ caregiver was a challenging task, especially in moments like these, which required immense internal strength not to crumble in front of him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you adjust to the harsh sunlight, fighting to regain your composure. When you finally scan the area, the only thing that meets your eye is the deserted smelting plant you now call home.

You open the sliding door, the noise breaking the stillness and forcing Logan to look up from his plate. He’s eating like a starved man, casually drinking from a small bottle of whisky on the table, already half of it gone. After those long drives through the nights and the early hours, he always returns hungry.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, setting it on the stove to heat. Neither of you says anything for a few minutes: he eats, and you sip your hot coffee in silence, not wishing to disturb the breakable peace that hangs by a thread.

Thinking this is how the noon will continue, you begin to walk toward your room until he clears his throat, stopping you in your tracks. That simple gesture makes you whirl around, anticipating something.

“This is delicious,” he acknowledges, pointing to his plate with his fork, the rice with veggies and meat you cooked last night nearly gone. Dipping his chin, he adds in a low voice: “Thank you.”

You’re taken aback by his unexpected willingness to engage in conversation. Moments like these are as rare as seeing Halley’s Comet, so you proceed with caution, as if you’re approaching a skittish animal—one wrong move, and the opportunity is lost.

Setting your mug down on the table, you sit on the chair opposite him. Deep down, the hammering of your heart echoes in your ears, and you hope his sharp senses don’t pick up on it.

“I’m glad you liked it. Charles ate two bowls of it,” you explain, unable to suppress a smile. Logan hums, tilting his head to the side as he keeps devouring his meal. You take another sip of your coffee, blowing on it in a futile attempt to cool it down. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Huh?”

“Charles. He—he asks to see you a lot,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “I know it’s none of my business, but I think it would make him feel better if you spent more time with him.”

The sound of a distant train rumbles through the walls, amplifying the silence between you. Logan doesn’t utter a word; instead, he puts down his fork, the clinking noise making you jump slightly, the intensity of his stare becoming overwhelming.

“You’re right about one thing—what I do or don’t do is none of your goddamn business.”

Just like that, the buildup dissolves in a matter of seconds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, nodding absentmindedly. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. How stupid were you to think he might want to talk to you?  “I just—I want to be of help.”

“Just take care of Charles. That’s all you gotta worry about, all I’ve ever asked you to do,” he barks, clenching his jaw, and you can tell he means each word.

When he talks to you in this tone, it makes you think more rationally—it reminds you that you don’t really know him, and yet you agreed to work for him in exchange for a roof over your head and food on your plate. He’s not your friend, and he’s excellent at making that crystal clear every time you cross the line.

Logan pushes you away like you’re nothing, like you’re just another of the many burdens he has to deal with.

It should be enough to send you running to your room, but despite the knot tightening in your belly, you somehow remain rooted in place, your eyes sharp like daggers.

As another train echoes in the silence, you come to terms with the knowledge that one more question will drive him away.

And sometimes, you speak before you think, as you do now: “Whose blood is that on your shirt?” you ask, voice steady and cold. Perhaps it’s you who wants him to leave this time.

He shakes his head with offense, frustration crinkling his eyes. “I don’t need this shit,” he groans, his gruff voice loud enough for you to hear it. He gets up from the table, placing his plate in the sink without much delicacy. At last, he heads to his room, slamming the door with a deafening thud that reverberates through the entire place.

It’s not a crush, that voice deep inside you insists as you’re left alone in the kitchen. And it’s valid: a mere crush wouldn't cause this kind of pain, wouldn’t make your chest feel this heavy and your limbs numb.

Whenever he leaves, he takes a part of you with him, never to be returned. By now, you’re certain he’s stolen all those missing pieces from you, and you’ve got no idea how much longer you can endure before you shatter completely.

You seem to have won this battle, but what you end up losing is far greater than any fleeting gratification.

Loving Logan is maddening, to say the least.

To this day, you still recall every detail of the night that altered the course of your life—the night you met Logan.

The memories are rather vivid in your mind, and you revisit that moment on nights like these, when you can’t sleep and the past appears to be much more appealing than your present.

Pressing your cheek against the cold pillow, you let your eyelids drop, reconstructing the full scene behind your sealed eyes.

It was your third week working at that restaurant, and you were still getting used to its daily rhythm. Waitressing was working wonders for you—you had a good memory, and people often gave you generous tips.

Everything was going well: you were the only waitress on shift, and your boss had left for a brief errand, promising he would be back soon.

During this lull, a group of men entered the restaurant, already drunk or high—probably both. They sat at one of the empty tables, immediately calling for you.

One of them, a tall blonde, was the loudest. “Come here, baby.” He pointed his finger at you, gesturing for you to approach him. The nickname felt wrong rolling off his tongue, and as you obliged, he shoved a handful of bills into the front pocket of your apron. He clutched your waist, dragging you nearer. “I’m getting married tomorrow. Think you can do something special for me?”

His friends cheered him on, laughing and pounding their fists on the table. You managed to slip from his grasp and asked them what they wanted to order.

While they took their time deciding, you noticed a limousine parked in the distance, probably the vehicle that had brought these morons here. The driver rolled down his window, hanging his arm from the armrest.

Though you couldn’t see his features, the interaction alone was enough to make you look away.

An hour went by, and the men refused to take off. They’d eaten, drunk, and danced—and driven you crazy in the process. The rest of the customers had decided to leave once they realized the night was far from finishing for the noisy group of friends. You apologized, feeling incapable of doing anything to change the situation.

Your sanity felt threatened as you turned off the TV, ending the sixth round of karaoke, their shouts and hoots ringing in your ears.

“We’re closing in ten minutes,” you informed them, starting to collect their dirty plates and glasses. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the blonde man standing right beside you, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through your skin. He attempted to graze your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back, keeping a safe distance between you. “How do you plan to pay? Cash or credit?”

“How about with a kiss, huh?” He inched forward, his face dangerously close to yours. Unaccustomed to being approached in this manner, you ducked your head, unsure of your next move. His breath reeked of beer and vodka, a horrendous combination that had you nearly gagging on the spot.

As he backed you against the counter, one of his large hands cradled your face, urging you to make eye contact with him. “I swear I can be very, very nice. You haven’t given me the chance to show it yet.”

“Hey, pal. You said one hour.”

The first time you heard his voice—low and husky, the kind that could send shivers down your spine.

Your eyes locked with Logan’s, your pleading gaze seemingly stirring something in him as he got a grip on the situation. His brows bumped together in a scowl, and you didn’t miss how he limped as he made his way into the restaurant.

There was something about him—how he moved, his stance—that felt strangely familiar.

“We’re busy in here, chauffeur,” the blue-eyed man protested, slightly losing his balance while still holding your cheek.

Your rescuer squared off against him, their noses practically brushing. He worked his jaw, his half-lidded, tired eyes taking in the sight of you. “I’m no fortune-teller, but I don’t think she’s into you, bub.”

“Come again?” the blonde guy released you, much more concerned with defending his bruised pride. “What’s the matter, Grandpa? Is it past your bedtime?”

“I want you to pay me for the ride, and for waiting a fucking hour and a half for you and your friends,” the older man spat, jerking his thumb toward the limousine. “I’m not taking you back to the hotel. You might want to start looking’ for another driver.”

The group of men closed in around him, their anger bubbling. “That’s not cool, dude. We had a deal,” another voice snapped, but Logan couldn’t seem to care less.

“Well, the deal’s off. And leave the girl alone, will you?” he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. “So, where’s my money?”

He couldn’t have predicted it. One of the men behind him swung a plate, striking him in the nape and catching him off guard. Logan collapsed to the floor, clutching his head in pain. The others took the opportunity and began to pummel him, kicks and punches landing wherever they could.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, desperately trying to intervene. You grabbed at their clothes, digging your fingernails into every patch of exposed skin you could find, but they shoved you aside with brutal force. Your back slammed against the nearest wall, a jolt of sudden pain making you wince.

The blood in your veins turned to ice as you watched, paralyzed with fear that they might kill him. But then—

Three metallic claws emerged from his knuckles, and he used them to push himself upright. Despite the blood smeared across his nose and mouth, he managed to stand, his quickened breathing coming out in short puffs.

The men backed away in shock, leaving him alone amidst the chaos. 

You stared at him, your hands trembling as recognition dawned: it was The Wolverine.

The familiarity, the sense of having seen him before, all made sense now. It all flooded back in a rush—the comics, the news, the rumors.

“Get the hell outta my sight,” he growled, pressing his claws against the fabric of the blue-eyed man’s jacket, making him flinch.

You couldn’t make out what you were feeling. It wasn’t fear, but intrigue. Even as the group of men fled the restaurant, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. At first, he avoided your gaze, focusing on his shoes as he retracted his claws.

Once the immediate danger had passed, he slumped forward, groaning. You gently draped one of his arms around your shoulders and helped him into a nearby chair. His weight felt like a thousand bricks, but you accomplished to get him seated.

He rubbed a shaky hand over his graying beard, his face twisting in pain as you pressed a makeshift towel of napkins against his lower lip, where blood continued to flow.

Taking the towel from you, he continued tending to himself. You scanned his features, scrutinizing him.

“You are…” you began, the words feeling inadequate at the moment.

Logan nodded hesitantly, his silence confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, that’s me,” he tugged at his shirt collar, exposing some of his chest hair, fresh blood staining his work clothes. Your gaze fell there, and you quickly chided yourself.

The poor guy was bleeding, and you were checking him out. Jeez.

Kneeling by his side, you introduced yourself. “Thank you for stepping up for me,” you said afterward, and he shook his head dismissively. “They were a pain in the ass. I don’t know how you even managed to drive them here.”

“Money’s money, darlin’. Doesn’t matter where it comes from, as long as—” he was interrupted by a coughing fit, and your concern deepened as you continued to spot more of his injuries. “I’ll heal,” he reassured you, his expression softening in an attempt to calm your anxiety.

Your eyes pierced his with an intensity that seemed to unsettle him. Warmth crept into your cheeks as a question surfaced in your mind: “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You don’t owe me anything, kid,” he replied, a hint of gruffness in his voice.

“But I could help you,” you persisted, your voice betraying a touch of eagerness. Stifling a cough, you tried to mask your enthusiasm, and sighed. “Are you hungry? I could cook you something, or pour you a drink. We’ve got plenty of liquor—”

Logan interrupted you, placing the towel down on the table. “Have you ever taken care of an old person?” 

Tilting your head, you considered his question. “How old?”

“Ninety-somethin’.”

You nodded, memories of the events from years ago surfacing. “I lived with my grandparents for most of my life. When they fell ill, I spent a lot of time with them. My mom had to work long hours, and I—well, the point is, I did take care of them,” you paused for an instant, his expression unreadable, though you perceived a slight relaxation in his posture, as if your answer had put him at ease. “I like being around old people. They have stories to tell,” you added, a genuine smile breaking through, “and I’m a good listener.”

“Then I suppose there is somethin’ you can help me with.”

And so began a new chapter in your life.

The very next day, you were moving in with him and Charles. It took several weeks for the latter to warm up to you and get used to your presence.

Initially, he was hopeful that you might also be a mutant, but his disappointment was palpable when he discovered you lacked any supernatural gifts. Leaving that aside, he valued your company.

“The shots mellow the seizures. The pills keep them from happening,” Logan had once explained, detailing the medications Charles needed. You recalled the psychic attack from a year ago and its consequences, but that wasn’t a topic to be discussed with Logan, and you understood why.

“Where do you get these?” you asked, examining the bottle of pills with a curious glance. “Without a prescription, I mean.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know.”

Soon, you got adapted to the whole package: his unpredictable temperament, his mood swings, and his nightmares. Logan Howlett was a puzzle box of surprises, one you could never quite unlock.

Fast forward to the present day, you realize it must be already late, because Logan’s heading to work. You stand on your tiptoes, peering out of your bedroom window. Your humid breath fogs the glass as his eyes find yours, and then he slips into the vehicle, blending into the shadows of the night.

The distant rumble of his limousine signals his departure, your forehead pressed against the glass, as if somehow that could take you with him.

There goes another piece of you.

You find yourself shaving Charles the moment worry takes over your senses.

He’s retelling a familiar story: that one time Logan, Scott, Jean, and Storm saved Rogue from Magneto.

On any other day, you wouldn’t mind listening to his stories, despite having heard them countless times. This one in particular is your favorite.

But today, it’s hard to focus on it, even more when one of its main characters is missing in action.

Logan hasn’t come back home yet.

It’s been an entire day, and he’s usually back by morning to rest. Now, after having cooked dinner and helping Charles shower, you’ve run out of distractions. There’s nothing left to occupy your thoughts, nothing to ease the building anxiety gnawing at you.

You texted him multiple times—no answer. You even called—also nothing. Every time Charles asks if Logan’s at work or sleeping, the knot in your chest tightens. That’s when your mind starts to spiral, and you’re convinced you’ll burst any moment.

After putting him to bed, you pace the kitchen, picking at your nails and biting the raw skin around them. The sting of pain is there, but it’s faint, not enough to overshadow the real fear clawing at your insides.

All these what-ifs that storm through your mind make you feel nauseous: what if he’s dead? What would you do with Charles? How would you provide for both of you without a salary?

Just as you’re about to dial his number again, Logan materializes out of thin air through the sliding door.

He’s got a dark bruise under his right eye, and his once-white shirt is littered with bloodstains. You stare at him—he’s limping harder than usual, each of his movements slower.

Walking towards him, your hands cup his face. His skin feels rough beneath your fingers, and he lets out a grunt as you graze his split lip. “What happened?”

“They were followin’ me. Had been doin’ so for a few days now,” he says, making no effort to pull away.

“Did you kill them?” you wonder out loud, still inspecting his injuries. The pad of your thumb hovers inches away from his bruised mouth.

Covering your hands with his, Logan ducks his head, closing his eyes for a brief second and swallowing thickly. “Somebody had to do it, sweetheart.”

You limit yourself to a nod, because you know there’s nothing you can reproach him for. You were no stranger to the idea of him killing. It was an implicit truth between you.

“I thought—I was so scared, and I—” your voice wavers, and you feel your eyes watering, the tears prickling at the corners. “I thought you—”

He doesn’t let you finish, already knowing how it would end. “Hey, look at me,” he’s the one touching you now, tilting your chin up. Your eyes keep flickering over the cuts and old scars you spot on his cheeks, his neck. Logan forces a pained smile, unable to hide his discomfort. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Just a bit fucked up, but nothin’ you haven’t seen before,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and it works. You bite your lower lip, suppressing your grin. “I always come back, don’t I?”

“But you can barely stand,” you whisper, not sure why you’re speaking so softly. You make him turn his back to you, helping him shrug off his coat. As expected, remnants of dried blood decorate his shirt like highlights. “Let me help you.” 

“I don’t—”

”There are cuts all over your back. And your chest—you’re not healing properly,” you say, turning him to face you again. The look on his face suggests only one thing: he’s about to throw in the towel. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.” You think you’ve never been this close before, his proximity both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. “Please.”

He ends up giving in to your persuasion, allowing you to guide him to the bathroom. Logan sits down on the toilet, watching you gather supplies to clean his wounds. When you come back, he’s still staring at you, his eyelashes fluttering together each time he blinks.

Starting with his cheek, you press a damp towel to his skin, and he hisses. It takes everything in you not to flinch in sympathy.

“How’s Charles?” he asks, probably trying to distract himself as you continue to clean his wounds, the towel darkening with his blood over time. 

“He’s doing great. Asked for you a lot, actually,” you take a look at his jaw, where one shallow cut is already starting to fade away thanks to his healing ability, something that never fails to amaze you.

Logan hums, tilting his head. ”I’ll check on him in the morning,” he murmurs, and you flash him a quick smile, finishing with his face. He’s now free of dirt and blood, his brows furrowing as he pauses to collect his thoughts. “The other day, when we talked—”

You cut him off, turning to the sink as you rinse the towel, watching the water get red. “Forget it.”

“No, it wasn’t okay—how I acted,” he stands up from the toilet, and you feel his presence behind you, the alarm inside your head going off as the space between you shrinks. “I know you just want what’s best for him. For us. I’m sorry I was a jerk,” his voice comes out even huskier at this time of the night, sounding afraid of waking someone, even though it’s just the two of you here.

“Apology accepted,” you swirl around to meet his gaze, only to find yourself nose-to-nose with him, and you lean back against the sink, your spine pressed into the cool surface.

Logan places his hands on both sides of the vanity, caging you with his body. Like the most beautiful tree, he stands tall in front of you, and you take a deep breath, getting drunk on his distinctive scent. “Are you… okay?”

You watch as he lowers his head, pursing his lips before muttering: “Imma need you to do something more for me,” he says, almost pleading, and you can’t avoid the amount of thoughts that rush into your mind.

Gone was your decency when you had to deal with him.

That’s when he looks up to find your eyes, his harsh expression evolving into a more vulnerable one. “Have you ever removed a bullet?”

If you thought listening to Logan’s nightmares was painful, nothing could have prepared you for the sounds he makes while you pull several bullets from his wounds. 

He sits shirtless in front of you, grunting at each of your careful movements. As you remove one bullet lodged near his ribs, Logan practically yells, and you rest your cheek against his, desperate to ease his suffering.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Almost done,” you whisper into his ear, hoping your words might bring him some relief. He lets his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder, trusting you enough to tend to his injuries, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

It takes you half an hour to clean both his chest and back, but Logan doesn’t complain. When you’re finished, he goes straight to his room, flopping onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing still labored.

You wish you could lie beside him, even just for a few minutes, but your last shred of self-control stops you from doing such a thing.

“Get some sleep,” you say leaning against the doorframe, your advice sounding more like a plea. He looks exhausted, dark circles sunken beneath his eyes. 

Logan lets out a bitter laugh. “Do I look that bad?”

You roll your eyes at that, your fingers curling around the doorknob. Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you catch something in his look—a glimmer of something you struggle to put into words, but you decide not to look further into it. “Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, darlin’—and thank you,” he murmurs, holding your gaze until the door shuts between you.

Then you sprint to your room, gently closing the door before biting back a smile, replaying the last hour in your mind. How close to you he had been, how comfortable he seemed around you.

You hadn’t just crossed lines—you’d broken them. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

Somehow, your racing mind calms down, and you fall asleep, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting against your chest.

You’re a light sleeper. The sound of something shattering wakes you, leaving you startled and disoriented.

Dawn is just breaking, the first rays of sunlight slipping through your window. You sit up, pricking up your ears as you scratch the back of your head, listening attentively.

Logan’s voice filters into your room—he lets out a string of profanities, and you stifle a giggle, throwing off your covers and putting on a sweatshirt that matches your pajamas.

Barefoot, you walk down the hall, stopping at the kitchen’s entrance. Logan is kneeling beside the table, gathering the shards of a broken mug. It seems like he’s just gotten out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck.

“That was my favorite one,” you say in a low voice, teasing him. His back muscles flex under the material of his shirt, and he turns to look at you, his expression a silent apology. “I take it you’re not using your glasses?”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Rising to his feet, he grunts, digging his fingers into his lower back with a grimace. “They’re called readers for a reason.”

You decide to let him have that one, grabbing a new mug from the shelf and handing it to him. He accepts it, thanking you, and fills it with freshly brewed coffee.

“Was it a nightmare?” you ask, watching as he sinks into the couch, spreading his thighs apart with a sigh while you take a seat at the table instead.

Logan gives a nod, sipping some of his coffee. “At least I slept for a few hours.” 

“Are you really going to stay up? It’s pretty early.” You stretch your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you before you can hold it back.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then comes your question: “Can I join you?” You prop your elbows on your knees, any trace of sleepiness now gone with the wind.

He squints his eyes, his unrelenting stare boring into you. “Feel free.”

So here you are, studying him as he drinks his coffee, his fingers wrapped tightly around the ceramic. There are so many things you want to ask him—about how he’s feeling, if his wounds have healed—but it seems you’ve entered a silent staring contest without even knowing it.

Not that you mind him looking at you—you just want to know the reason why.

You snort, and he arches a brow. “Do I have something on my face?” You decide to ask him, straightening your back.

“I guess I can’t help but wonder why you agreed to all of this,” he says, setting the mug down with a soft clink. By this, you understand he’s referring to being Charles’ caregiver and leaving your old job behind. “I mean—you could be doing better things with your life. Why would you choose to do this?”

“I told you before: I wanted to help you,” you shrug, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach tightens with nerves. You watch as Logan folds his arms, the muscles of his biceps becoming more visible. “Plus, I love being around Charles.

“I don’t think people your age would be that interested in spending their days like this,” he says, and you toy with a lock of your hair, wrapping it around your finger.

“Well, good thing I’m not like most people my age then.”

His silence hangs heavy in the air until he speaks again. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know that feeling when life seems like a race? And you just have to keep up with certain things that everybody else is doing, or you’ll be left behind?” You pause, the words falling more naturally than you’d expected.

Logan nods, making it seem like he understands what you’re trying to say. Whether he truly does it or not, you don’t know.

“When my friends started going to parties, getting boyfriends… I couldn’t. My family wouldn’t let me. And even when I could, it felt like it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

Inhaling sharply, you stop yourself. The conversation suddenly feels far too personal.

“You never had a boyfriend?” He gets more comfortable on the couch, his voice gruff as he rubs his chin, waiting for a reply.

A familiar heat settles between your legs. “I went out with some guys, but it never led to anything serious,” you say, your cheeks getting warmer the more details you share with him. “I guess I wasn’t the kind of girl they were looking for,” you add, not missing the way his lips twitch momentarily.

“How could they not want you?”

“They didn’t think like you do.”

“That’s because they were boys, not men,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to your hands before returning to your face. “Did they treat you right, those boys?”

Swallowing hard, you can hardly register the uncertainty in your own voice. “I mean… yes, I think they did. They were nice to me.”

There it is—the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Nice doesn’t mean good, though.”

You dig your nails onto the table, your pulse quickening, trying to hide how affected you are by his words. “What is it that you want to know?”

“Come sit with me, doll.”

Doll. Doll. Doll. Inside your chest, your heart gallops, your legs trembling as you get off the table, moving closer to him.

Feeling lighter with every step you take, you plop down beside him, and Logan sits straighter, his knees almost bumping into yours.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him—this is happening, just like in your filthiest dreams.

His hand slides up to yours, not applying any sort of pressure. He scrutinizes your skin, bringing your hand to his lips, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

It tickles, it burns—it ignites a fire inside you, one you know you can’t ignore. A gasp attempts to escape you, but you suppress it.

“Did you let them touch you?” he whispers, attaching his mouth to your neck, brushing the sensitive spot where your jaw and ear meet.

This time, you moan, any possible rational thoughts turning into putty, melting with the way he’s touching you. “Logan,” you purr his name, begging for something, anything he’s willing to give you. Your thighs, once shoved together, spread of their own accord, and you hear him click his tongue.

“I asked you something.” His teeth graze your pulse point, forcing you to close your eyes.

“I didn’t. They wanted to, but I—I wouldn’t let them,” you answer, and as if he’s rewarding you, his fingers begin to tug on the hem of your sweatshirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the floor, admiring you.

“Why?”

Goddamn.

“Because I was waiting for the right guy,” you manage to get out, grasping his hand and positioning it on top of your right breast, encouraging him to go on with what he had started. His pupils widen further, and he squeezes your tit roughly, eliciting a moan from you. “I think I’ve found him.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any sign of repentance in your expression. “I’m going to hell for this,” he murmurs under his breath, his hard-on noticeable through his tented sweatpants. “Lay down.” You obey his command, easing yourself onto the couch, and sinking into the cushions as he presses himself to your side.

He peppers your neck with kisses, playing with the waistband of your shorts. “I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.”

You accept his offer, knowing that you’ll probably regret it in a couple of hours. Right now, it doesn’t matter. You need his electrifying touch, his fingers, his—

With a swift motion, your shorts are yanked down your legs, and his calloused hands part your thighs even wider. A damp spot on your underwear sells you out, and his thumb rubs gentle circles over that area, causing you to lift your hips.

“So this is what you look like when you touch yourself, huh?” He edges his fingers closer to your clit, his breath tickling your ear, and he dips his tongue into your collarbone. “I hear you all the fuckin’ time. You’re not as quiet as you think.”

It should embarrass you, the fact that he has listened to you pleasuring yourself. But in a moment like this, it only succeeds in fuelling your desire. “Please. You said you’d make me feel good.”

“And I will, but you’re greedy as hell,” he says, his movements more deliberate now. You feel hot all over as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt.

Logan’s on the verge of drooling all over you, reaching for your folds and spreading your wetness. “Men aren’t strong creatures, honey. You’ve got no idea how hard it is to hold back.”

“D-don’t hold back,” you stutter, losing your composure when he returns to your clit, his fingers coated in your arousal while they flick your swollen bud. “Oh, Logan…”

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he rasps, mouthing at your jaw, though as you try to kiss him, he slows his pace. “What’s wrong? Am I not giving you enough?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper, fascinated by how big his fingers look in comparison to your pussy. “I’m just—”

“Needy, I know,” he finishes for you, and he picks up his merciless rhythm again. Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and you can’t help but arch your back every time he teases you, grazing your entrance with his middle finger. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You dig your nails into his arm, relishing the way his body responds to your touch. He grinds his cock against your hip, his teeth nipping at the column of your neck. “I want to come. Please, make me come,” you sob, letting out a shaky breath.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead, and Logan locks eyes with you after what feels like an eternity. “Please, Lo.”

The nickname snaps something inside of him. His fingers circle your clit with a fervency you hadn’t experienced before, your pleasure seemingly being his primary focus. “The shit I’d do for you.”

You warn him, telling him you’re close—so so so close—until the fire in your belly flares, and blood rushes to your ears. You collapse against him, holding his hand firmly against your core, hips jerking as you ride your orgasm.

The world narrows down to this—this moment, your most desired fantasy.

Logan holds you as you go limp in his arms, rubbing your clit ever so slightly, murmuring soft praises. “Y’did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your temple, burying his nose in your hair. You’re still out of breath, the pulsing between your parted legs persisting long after your release. “Told you you weren’t quiet.”

A giggle bubbles up from your chest, his beard tickling you as he slides his hands up under your shirt, finding your nipples.

“It was n-nice,” you tell him, your voice faltering the more he toys with your hardened peaks. Your skin heats up again, heart racing at the thought that he isn’t done with you yet.

“Just nice?” One of his hands makes its way back into your pussy, ghosting his fingers over your hole, and he smirks when he feels you squirm. “You surely know how to hurt a man’s pride.”

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” You can’t structure a proper sentence, not when he’s playing with you like this.

Logan rubs your arousal between his fingers, as though he wants you to see how slick you still are, even after coming. “Are you going to touch me again?”

He hums, feigning uncertainty. “What do you think, baby? Should I make you come with my fingers now?”

It’s like a switch flips in your mind. He knows exactly how to make you beg and which buttons to push, using that power to his advantage. “Yes, please. I want it,” you plead, intending to buck your hips into his touch, impatient for more.

“Do you fuck yourself with your fingers?” 

“Sometimes, but I can never finish—Oh my God.” He slips one finger inside you, causing you to curse, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench around the intrusion, your head falling back onto the cushions. “Fuck me.”

“In a minute.” He begins to thrust his finger in and out, gathering your juices every time he goes back to hammering that sweet spot in your interior. Soon, one finger becomes two, and he reduces you to a panting mess.

Tears threaten to swell in your eyes, and you whine as he involves his other hand in the matter, furiously rubbing your clit. “Your fingers feel much better than m-mine, Lo.”

“I can tell.” He curls them just right, and you push back against his thrusts, tilting your pelvis to meet him halfway. “There you go. Take what you need, sweetheart. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

Everything feels frenzied, fast, the way your inner walls spam and contract around his fingers as you chase your second climax.

Once you come down from your high, your blurred vision catches him tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down. His cock springs free, and he fists himself, stroking his length angrily.

You watch as some pre-cum dribbles from the head, and you lean forward, watching it closely.

“You look goddamn beautiful when you come, darlin’,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tight. Hovering over you, he rucks your shirt up until he can see your tits from above. He alternates between your breasts, squeezing them while he continues to stroke his girth. “Want to see these all dirty.”

Logan truly loses it when your hand reaches out to him, tracing a bulging vein near the head of his cock. You meet his lustful gaze, batting your lashes, and then you feel his come splashing against your bare chest, a choked moan escaping Logan’s throat, spurts of his hot seed landing on your skin.

“Fuckin’ hell… fuck,” he grunts, still tugging at his cock, enamored with the masterpiece he’s created. When it’s finally over, he lies beside you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles further into your touch with a groan. “I’m too old for this.”

Minutes pass as both of you seem to grasp the gravity of what has just happened. Eventually, Logan rises to his feet, disappearing for a brief moment before coming back with a towel to wipe his come off your stomach and chest.

He’s gentle with you, his gaze trained on his task until his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pulling your shorts back up.

“Like what?” 

“Like you want to see right through me.” He adjusts your shirt to cover your body again, but the towel remains in his hand, a reminder of the previous events.

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

You don’t have to talk about it. You definitely don’t. 

Two days later, he’s the one who comes looking for you.

You’re nearly asleep when he knocks on your door. “Come in,” you mumble, a bit of drool having dampened your pillow. You dry your mouth with the back of your hand, your back turned to the door.

He steps into your room cautiously, as if navigating a minefield. The mattress dips under his weight. “Were you sleeping?” he asks, caressing your leg over the covers. 

You shift onto your back, your body responding before your mind. There’s no blood on his clothes—that makes you feel a bit better, and you shake your head.

“Good.” He looms closer, fumbling with his belt. His thumb applies little pressure to your lower lip, and your mouth parts to let him in, salivating.

This is just like Pavlov’s dog experiment—except that Logan isn’t an experimenter, and you aren’t a dog.

Yet, when he approaches you like this, you can’t help but respond, settling into a routine where you both take take take from each other.

Logan doesn’t fuck you, even when you beg him to. He gets you off with his fingers, his thigh, his mouth—but his cock remains out of the equation. 

“Just the tip,” you plead, voice laced with pure need, when he’s got his face nestled between your legs. 

As he stops eating you out, his beard shiny with your arousal, he’s still got that angry look on his face. Your cries don’t get to him.

“That lie’s older than me.” He slips his fingers back inside you, aiming to make you drop the subject. “Come on, baby. Gotta get ready for work, but you need to come first.”

Nor does he stay the night after telling you you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen in his life. Just when you think he’s fallen asleep, his legs intertwined with yours and one of his large hands under your head, you drift off.

By the time morning comes, he’s gone. You just know that when night falls, he’ll be back for more, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Despite all that, Logan won’t kiss you. He keeps his promise, and you hate how determined he is. 

“Not even once?” you ask him one night while going over the scars on his back. You’re in his bed this time, and he has his nose buried in his pillow, moments away from dozing off. 

“No,” he answers, squirming slightly under your touch. “I’m tired. Stop doing that.”

“How did you get this one?” You trace one scar that’s close to his shoulder, resting your chin just inches from it.

He turns his face to see your eyes. “Well, I was doing Pilates, and I—Hey!” He laughs when you pinch the skin near his ribs, tickling him. “I don’t even remember. Must’ve got it a long time ago.”

“Did it hurt?” It’s a dumb question, but he doesn’t mention it.

His index finger grazes your cheek, and he chuckles at the way your eyelids flutter. “In the past, they all did. But not anymore,” he replies, though you wish you could believe him.

You know he’s in pain most days. That when he goes down on you, and he’s on his knees for too long, he has trouble standing up without cursing. That no amount of alcohol, or his healing ability, helps him with it.

You kiss each of his scars before curling against his side, brushing your nose against his. “And now?” Your eyes fall to his lips, silently hoping he’ll say Yes.

Instead, he sighs. “I think we should go to sleep.”

So despite the lack of kisses, the miscommunication, and the fact that he won’t fuck you even though you know—you feel—he wants to, things are good between you.

Charles notices it, openly expressing his recent realization. “He looks happier, doesn’t he?” he asks says after winning two games of chess in a row, startling you. 

“Logan, you mean?”

“Yes, my dear.”

You glance down at the board, fidgeting with the pieces. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he parrots your previous words, raising an eyebrow in doubt. “Look at me,” he says, and as you do it, he points a shaky finger toward your neck. “I assume mosquitos have taken a liking to you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, your hand flying up to cover the hickey you had completely forgotten about in the first place. “Charles, I’m—“

“Are you happy?” he interrupts you, and you nod, because you are. 

A nagging thought lingers at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’re asking for too much, but it still feels like something’s missing.

One morning, you accidentally overhear a conversation between them. The door of the tank is ajar, and right before you step inside, you recognize Logan’s voice in the distance.

“Charles, I’m fine, alright? I don’t need your advice.”

There’s a pause before Charles responds. “You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.”

Logan doesn’t say anything in response to that. And if he does, you don’t stick around long enough find out, because you’re already turning on your heel.

A poet once said: “Blowjobs are fucking amazing.”

Actually, you might be wrong. Those may not have been a poet’s words, but your best friend Keira’s from high school.

You remember the sleepovers at her place—she had a boyfriend at the time, a boy she had met at a party you hadn’t been invited to. 

“Welcome to blowjobs 101,” she had declared one night, holding a hairbrush like a microphone. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll tell you everything you need to know when the moment comes.”

Luckily, many years later, that moment arrived.

Just ten minutes ago, you were cooking dinner, sniffling back tears while chopping onions, so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Logan was already home.

He tossed his keys onto the table, hugging you from behind seconds later. You leaned back against his chest, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, his lips planting soft kisses wherever they could.

“How was work?” you dropped the knife, wiping your tears as you turned to face him, throwing your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you in tighter by the waist, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Hell, as usual,” he looked into your eyes, finding them all glossy. “You miss me so much you started crying?”

Of course, you didn’t talk about it—but words aren’t the only ones who can convey meaning.

You’re not sure how, but one thing led to another, and now you’re on your knees, Logan’s cock filling your mouth. Your lips, swollen and red, suck hard at his tip, pulling the foreskin back, and his hips jerk deeper into your throat. “That’s it, fuck. Doin’ so good.”

Your movements are far from graceful. As a matter of fact, it’s all too sloppy and desperate. Saliva drips down your chin, some of it coating his balls, and you fondle them at the same time you bob your head.

Keira’s advice plays on repeat in your mind, and you pull out every trick you know to make Logan roll his eyes.

So far, you think you’re doing pretty great, judging by the way he’s gripping the back of your head.

“H-how is this your first time suckin’ cock?” he slurs, more to himself, his voice strangled as you make eye contact with him. He brushes your hair out of your face, bewitched by the sight of him disappearing into your wet mouth. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

Taken aback by his sudden confession. you involuntarily gag around him. He pulls you off his cock, not even sparing you a glance, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Wait, Logan—”

“Not now,” he mutters abruptly, withdrawing into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

But still, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

How bad is it to tell somebody you love them and then avoid them?

Yeah, it’s absolutely terrible, right? Tell that to the idiot himself—Logan Howlett.

It’s been over a week, and no matter how many times you press him for an explanation, he keeps dodging it.

Things go back to how they were before you two started fooling around, and Charles’ questions don’t take long to come: “I thought you two were getting somewhere.”

“Me too,” you admit, your voice quieter as you try to appear indifferent.

You have no answer for him. Not that you don’t want to discuss your relationship problems—it’s just that you don’t know what went wrong.

When evading you isn’t enough, he works longer hours, which only adds to how little you see him. At least he lets you know if he’s going to be late, sparing you from waiting up.

But apart from that, your interactions have dwindled to nothing, and it’s eating you alive.

You’re madly in love with him. You thought you knew that already, but now that he’s distant, the depth of your feelings has become clearer than ever.

He’s everywhere you go, just not physically—he has conquered your mind.

And it should be funny, loving someone who used to be no more than a myth for you. Though Logan is real—maybe too real for your own good—and he hasn’t been the mutant you once read about for quite some time.

This morning, he’s having breakfast at the table when you walk into the kitchen. You hold your breath as your shoulders brush for a microsecond, his gaze following your steps.

You’re no longer accustomed to sharing the same space with him, so it makes sense that you stay as far away as possible.

After an awkward silence, he stands up and mutters something about checking on Charles and giving him his meds, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s infuriating, how collected he seems. Why isn’t he miserable like you? Doesn’t he miss you? Didn’t you two have something… special?

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

The shit I’d for you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

Not now.

The memory of his words lingers, seared into your unconscious, though the sound of his phone jolts you out of your thoughts.

It’s ringing beside the coffee machine, and you try to ignore it, determined to be the bigger person.

But after five minutes of the relentless ringtone echoing in the empty kitchen, you’ve had enough.

Unknown caller—interesting. What could he possibly be hiding?

Charles, you better keep that asshole busy, you think to yourself, swiping right to answer the call.

Before you can say anything, a woman’s voice fills the line.

“James! Thank God. It’s Gillian. You didn’t reply to any of my texts, and I was starting to get worried,” she lets out a giggle, the sound grating against your nerves.

As your grip on the phone tightens, your knuckles start to go white.

“Look, I know you said you weren’t available, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that ride. I didn’t see any ring on your finger, so what do you say, huh? Will you let me take you out?”

Red. You’re seeing red.

“James? Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

At last, you clear your throat. “Hey,” you greet her, pacing around the kitchen. “I’m deeply sorry, but James can’t talk right now.”

“Excuse me?” she snaps, her high-pitched voice echoing through the speakers, and you pull the device away from your ear. “This is James’ number. Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you who the fuck I am, you intolerant piece of—”

Before you can finish, the phone is yanked out of your hand, the call hastily ending.

There is no use in playing dumb, not when Logan’s standing right in front of you, observing you like you’re a child who’s made a severe mistake.

His deep, brown eyes pierce your soul, shattering any chance you had of coming up with an excuse.

“What where you doing with my phone?” It’s the first thing he asks you, his voice still steady, the calm before the storm.

Perhaps you’re not as mature as you thought you were—your forehead furrows, unwilling to back down, and you fall silent. He takes a step forward, as if he can’t believe your attitude. “Think I asked you somethin’. Why did you answer?”

“Gillian sounds like a lovely lady. Tell her I said ‘Hi’ the next time you see her,” you croak, attempting to walk past him, but he doesn’t budge, his solid frame blocking your path. You collide with his chest, and it feels like trying to move a brick wall without success.

“We’re talking. You can’t just leave.”

The nerve of this man.

“You can’t be serious,” you retort, staring at him, wishing the emotion in your tone could capture even a fraction of what you’re truly feeling. “Weren’t you the one who walked away first? After telling me you loved me?”

You search for any sign of the man who once held you close, but he feels miles away, hidden under all these layers that smell like cheap whiskey and gasoline. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I did. I meant every word,” he growls, his fists clenching at his sides, and you don’t miss the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles that expose the fragile façade of control he’s so desperate to maintain. “Goddamit! You’re doing that thing again!”

“What thing?” you exclaim, your mouth hanging open in frustration. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are! You’re trying to see through me, like you can read my mind.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a fucking mutant. I just have eyes, Logan.” You throw your arms up, exasperated. “People actually look at each other when they have a conversation, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

“And you are testing mine.” You rest your back against the table, raising your chin. “So, who is she?”

Logan drops his shoulders, slamming his eyes shut. “I drove her once, last week. It was a long ride and she… wouldn’t stop talking. Didn’t shut up for a single second. She hit on me, but I told her I’m off the market.”

“Why? ‘Cause she talked too much?”

“No. Because I love you,” he says, pure awe transforming his expression, like he doesn’t believe he has said it out loud. “I don’t know when I started feeling like this, or if I’ve always felt it, but—I do. I love you.”

Oh.

You had heard those words slip through his lips before, but now they sound different. It might be that keeping him at arm's length has felt like death by a thousand cuts, or perhaps it’s the realization that this is the first time someone’s declaring their love for you.

Fuck. He loves you. As in, he’s in love with you?

“Then why do you keep running?” You edge closer to him, your eyes trained on his. “I’m done with the chase, Logan. It’s tiring—I am tired. I’ve been sleeping like shit, trying to figure out what—”

His arms surround your body, cutting you off and pulling you close. The hammering of his heart matches yours, and you return the hug, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

You fear that this might be all you’ve ever needed, feeling as if the pieces he took from you in the past are finally falling back into place.

Logan holds you as if in a past life he lost you, but now, he’s decided to never let you go.

This profound sense of completeness, of being where you’re meant to be, makes you realize you’ve found home in the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m sorry. This… this scares me, alright?” he murmurs next to your ear, raking his fingers through your hair. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel anymore. That’s what I’m running from—the part of me I thought was gone. But you… you brought it back.”

You feel a deep urge to curl up and cry, wondering why on earth he would ever think he was unworthy of being cared for. “Logan, I…”

“I sound pathetic, I know. It sounded way better in my head.”

“Don’t you dare say that.” You retreat a bit, looking him in the eye. He stares down at you with a tenderness you’ve never seen before. “It’s not pathetic to voice how you feel. I want to know it all, want to know everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. But I need you to promise me that you won’t run away anymore. I know it’s difficult, but it’s not fair to any of us.”

His eyes peer directly into yours, and he gives a nod. “I promise to do my best.” He presses your foreheads together, and that’s when his mouth turns into a grin. “You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, gripping your waist. “Come on, I said it first. Twice, for the record.”

Lifting your shoulders in a half-shrug, you find it hard to conceal your smile. “I may need a bit more convincing.”

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

Before you know it, his lips are on yours, almost making you lose your balance. You whimper into his mouth, tightening your arms around his neck as his tongue wastes no time in finding yours, stroking it sensually.

The wait had been definitely worth it—you’d do everything all over again if it meant having him kiss you like this at the end of the day.

He tilts your face so that he can deepen the kiss, and a whine gets caught in your throat when his fingers pull gently at the hair at your nape, nibbling at your bottom lip. 

“I love you, too. Very much, to be honest,” you blurt out against his mouth, pleased with the way he laughs at your reaction, squeezing your hips. “But I still have some ideas in mind.”

“I’m all ears.”

Here goes nothing. “Fuck me like I’ve been asking you to.” You cup his cheek, guiding his lips into yours one more time. “Please,” you mewl, standing on your tiptoes. “Want you to be my first.”

If it were up to you, you would’ve begged him to take you right there on the kitchen floor. But Logan, ever the gentleman, insists on moving things to his room.

Each of his movements is slow, igniting your skin with a burning heat, leaving his name imprinted where his teeth sink into your soft flesh.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear by the time he murmurs: “Let me take my time with you.” He trails his lips down your chest, your stomach, until he’s planting several kisses along your ankle. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, baby. Look at you.”

Under his gaze, you feel shy, your eyes snapping to the ceiling instead. “Shut up,” you say, tugging at his shirt to undress him, your fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen before you pull him into a bruising kiss, sucking on his tongue.

He strips out of his black slacks and hovers over you, his clothed cock grinding against your throbbing core, eliciting a moan from both of you. “So goddamn beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine.” His tip grazes your entrance through the fabric, making your toes curl in ectasy. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I swear.”

At first, he’s extremely careful, making sure to stretch you out with his fingers while you stroke him, pumping your fist to match his rhythm. “Keep that up and this’ll be over sooner than expected,” he warns, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

It doesn’t happen like it does in the books or movies. No foreplay could’ve prepared you for the moment he enters you.

You move clumsily beneath him, your nose bumping into his forehead as he eases the first inch of his length inside.

For a moment, you’re not certain which hurts most: the dull ache in your nose or the way he’s splitting you open. 

Logan freezes, his eyes wide in concern. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?” His hand cradles your face as he props himself up on one forearm, pushing your hair back while you adjust to his size. You laugh despite the sting, and he wipes away your tears with his thumb. “You’re laughin’?”

“I’m just happy,” you manage to get through the lump in your throat, raking your nails down his back, feeling the rough texture of the scars beneath your fingers. “I love you. Since that day at the bar, I—” you pause for a second, gasping at the sudden wave of pleasure when he twitches inside you. “I’ll always l-love you. Forever.”

As you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him you’re ready, something inside him shifts.

He feels like a madman, his eyes fixed on your face the whole time, searching for any hint of discomfort, though he occasionally glances down at the place where your bodies meet and become one, entranced by the sight of you taking him in, slick coating his length. 

Your heels dig into his lower back, pulling him back to the present—back to you, with your pretty tits bouncing each time he pistols his hips, the intensity of his thrusts increasing.

“All those times you took care of me, when you—Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw to regain some of his composure, his humid breath dampening your skin. Your scent drives him wild, and he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You made me feel loved when no one else did. My girl, love you so f-fucking much.”

His pace is nothing more than a voiceless testament to everything he feels but can’t find words to express.

With each minute that passes, your dripping cunt grips him tighter and tighter, his thrusts losing finesse. He needs you to come first—why does he feel like a virgin?

When you tell him you’re close, the world around him turns into a musical. You cling to the sheets, the mattress creaking noisily as he clutches the headboard, determined to find that angle that will push you over the edge.

“That’s it, sing for me,” Logan mutters from above, hypnotized by the crease forming between your brows. “Come on, let go.”

Time seems to slow down as your muscles tense and you clamp around him, your body sagging against him. His name spills from your lips in breathy whimpers, like an endless prayer, and your mouth engulfs his, tongues and teeth clashing in a fevered kiss.

Soon after that, he surrenders to the coiling tension deep within him, pulling out just in time to stroke himself once, twice, before emptying his hot load across your mound.

You gently thumb the head of his cock, coaxing out every last drop of his hot seed. He’s panting as he comes down from his high, his brain foggy and blissfully blank for a while. 

Logan loses track of how many times he tells you he loves you—he does it when he pulls you into his chest, when his lips press against your temple, and when you crack that smile, the one that resembles the very purpose of his existence.

“So this is what it feels like.” His voice sounds low like a murmur near your ear, and you stir, half-asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, baby. Just thinkin’ aloud.”

You don’t have to talk about it, at least not now. Deep down, he knows that whatever thoughts run through his mind will somehow find their way into yours.

This is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.

And God, is he feeling it.

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

[hypocritic-trash-baby]

If somehow you haven’t seen by now, while the Super Bowl is being aired, Israel is striking Rafah.

The people of Palestine had been told to go there, they were promised it was safe.

And while this is happening, even though earlier several tags on Palestine were trending, only one or two are now.

I haven’t written any posts personally on Palestine myself. I didn’t feel I had anything to add here aside from reblogging and boosting whatever I can but please. We can’t forget Palestine or its people especially now.

This has gone on too long and gone much much too far MANY times and now is when we need to push harder.

Many of the heads of Western countries are either beating around the bush and wasting time, or outright denying the things the Palestinian people don’t have the privilege to ignore. They don’t have the choice to look away from their pain, or the pain of friends, family, neighbors, their country. And even through all of this they’re still trying their damn hardest just to live. And we all need to listen.

So now, especially if you live in a western country like I do, now we step it up a notch. Now is the time if you haven’t already to read up on Palestinian history. Listen to what the people of Palestine are saying. Hold firm on the boycott like never before. Any and every way you can donate, do it. eSIMs, aid, anything that will reach. Save as much evidence as you can. Videos, articles. Don’t let Zionists pretend all of this never happened.

Even if you think there’s nothing you can do, I’m telling you, keep going. Even if you feel you can only give a little, if we all give a little together it becomes much more.

Hit imperialism where it hurts. In the wallet. Follow the BDS instructions, find protests in your area if you can, boost as much information about Palestine as you can find, call your reps, and do not lose hope. The people of Palestine are not dead. They are holding on even through all this and we all owe it to them to do the same.

A Free Palestine will happen in our lifetimes. But it will be hard fought. So go out there and fight hard! The governments can’t hide from their own people forever. The companies can’t bleed cash forever. The people will win. So push until we do. Do not look away. Free Palestine

[kiyoomiee]

part one. part two. part three. part four.

boxer!sukuna who’s a menace in and out of the ring. Even with a bit of blood on his face, he didn’t hesitate to wink and point a finger at you when they finally announced that he’s the champion for match.

He didn’t even bother to wait for his heavyweight championship belt, he got out of the ring and went straight to where you were.

boxer!sukuna who forgets that all eyes were on him as he lifted you up and hugged you. The Sukuna, letting everyone see this side of him all because of you.

“I’m so proud of you ‘kuna.” You buried your face on his neck. You were avoiding the blinding lights of camera flashes, getting all red and shy under Sukuna’s hold.

“Sukuna! How do you feel now that you’ve won the championship again?”

“How did you prepare yourself for this season?”

“Are you in a relationship?”

“Sukuna! Tell us something about her!”

The reporters threw questions left and right. But Sukuna only smiled, his eyes still locked on you.

“She’s the girl I’ve been obsessed with for so long, and I plan to make her mine.”

boxer!sukuna who can’t get his hands off of you during his celebratory dinner party. His large palm alternated between touching your thigh and your waist, grinning as he saw you blush.

“Stop it Ryo.” You whispered against his ear when his fingers crept up higher on your thigh.

“Ryo? That’s a new one baby.” Fuck, he loves it when you give him nicknames.

“You’re drunk aren’t you? You’re gonna forget about this in the morning.”

“Not drunk, ‘m just so in love with you.” You saw how his pupils dilated as he stared at your lips.

Weirdly enough, he hasn’t initiated anything more and always stuck with touching you even during your date with him.

You can’t get that day out of your head. Sukuna spared no expense just to make everything perfect. He even reserved an entire restaurant just so he could have you all to himself that night.

“Sukuna, why haven’t you tried to kiss me yet?” You asked as your eyes went from his eyes down to his lips.

Noticing your little act, he licked his lower lip before he answered-

“Because it won’t end with just kissing. Plus, I’m trying to be respectful until you get comfortable with me.” His ears turned red as he looked away.

You did it. You had the Ryōmen Sukuna shy and flustered under your gaze.

“So you don’t want to kiss me?” He looked back at you with a scowl.

“Fuck baby, are you kidding? I wanted to kiss you since the day we met.”

“Hmm, should I let you kiss me though?” You drew circles on his thigh using your nails to tease him.

His hand touched your chin while his other arm captures your waist to pull you closer against him. Then he does something you’d never expect, he begs.

“Please let me kiss you, baby. Been wanting it for so long.”

With your nod of approval, he wasted no time and went straight in. Finally, feeling your lips against his made him groan. You gasped when you felt his hand on your thigh, trying to find the outline of your panties as a payback for teasing him. He used that chance to dive his tongue in your mouth.

Your body felt hot all over. Giving into his touch, you wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. How you managed to fight back your desire for him for so long, you’d never know.

It was clear that Sukuna savored the feeling of your lips against his so much, that you had to push against his chest just so you could breath.

“Damn you Sukuna, let me breathe.” You panted against him.

Not listening to your words, he gives you a peck one more time and finishes with a chaste kiss against the pulse point under your ear.

“We need to leave.” The urgency in his tone left you confused.

“What? Why?”

“It’s your fault baby. I tried to warn you that it won’t end with a kiss.”

“But it’s your party, we can’t just leave!”

“Trust me, we have to leave or I’ll fucking come in my pants. Plus, the paparazzi already has enough pictures of us kissing.” You were sure the two of you will be in front of the headlines once again.

“But I like kissing you.” You pouted.

“Then let’s go home right now baby. You’ll love me after you spend the night in my bed.”

[seonghwaddict]

save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi

in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.

best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!

listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis

masterlist.

it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.

you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.

“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”

based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.

“can i admit something?”

he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.

you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“i’ve never done that before.”

his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”

“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”

“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.

“i can… teach you, if you want?”

you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.

“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”

he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”

you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.

you could already hear him giggling at the sight.

groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.

deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.

the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.

“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.

once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.

“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”

you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”

“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”

“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”

you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.

“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”

“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.

you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.

“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”

“r-really?”

mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.

“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”

you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.

“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”

“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”

his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.

he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.

you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.

all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.

“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.

eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.

with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.

“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”

he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.

he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.

after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”

he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.

he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”

you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.

it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.

he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.

“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”

you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.

he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.

the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.

when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.

when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.

“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”

he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.

he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.

the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.

the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.

“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”

you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.

you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.

your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.

still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.

your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.

his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.

you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.

your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.

“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.

the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”

you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.

after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”

“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.

this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.

“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”

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