#and no one online seems to reveal them

[eisthenameofme]

i wonder if there's the potential for a solution to the doxxing fucking over marginalized people specifically thing and/or the some people only being able/knowing where to engage with community online thing if we we were able to like. weaponize the relative lack of actual anonymity in the opposite direction.

like for one thing, instead of doxxing just resulting in problems from others in person, using that information to actively support the person instead, and for another for the other potentially more targeted use of the internet to find people to engage with in person (although that one you'd have to be even more careful about in case it worked in the opposite direction. I'm just thinking it would be nice to have something more structured/widespread than happening to find out your internet friends are in your local area, that could potentially be used to circumvent people not meeting in third spaces/other issues people have initially finding local community in person.)

It would be nice if instead of exclusively finding offline solutions/telling people how to be more careful we could also use what's often part of the problem to our advantage when it does happen. Like, having a way to address it that isn't only preventative.

[drdemonprince]

any advice for coping with being on the receiving end of a public callout ?

Oh yes:

Do not acknowledge the callout publicly. It will only further its spread, lend it legitimacy, cause you to be interpreted as guilty, and convey to anyone who bears you ill will that you are rattled and feeling socially threatened.

Do not act out of urgency. One of the ways that cancelled people get themselves in far worse trouble is by spiraling due to anxiety and rushing to issue a statement about what has happened, or to attempt to socially manage public impressions about what has happened. Do not do this. Anything that you say will be picked apart and used against you. The situation is truly not as urgent as it might feel. A lot of times, doing nothing and being quiet is the best way to proceed, and the dust will settle better if you do.

Do not issue a public apology. If you truly feel that you have wronged someone, that conflict should be worked out in private with the people you have directly affected. You do not owe the anonymous public audience a damn thing. Do not apologize for something you don't honestly believe that you have done wrong. Take time and really think about what happened, and seek the counsel of people whom you trust in PRIVATE.

Do not attempt to disprove the callout unless you have crystal clear, smoking gun evidence that the person who accused you is actually victimizing you. And even then, probably don't do it. I have only seen a disproof of a callout work ONCE, and that was when Juniper Abernathy revealed the person cancelling her had been abusing her. Even if the facts are on your side, acknowledging the accusations will only make more people aware of them, give your detractors ground to criticize your every word, and will muddy the waters and make people find the situation confusing and troubling rather than clear.

GET THE FUCK OFFLINE. Delete your social media apps for the time being. Turn off notifications. Turn off DMs requests. Change your settings so that you only ever hear from people you already follow (I do this, on the advice of Philosophy Tube). Get away from the computer.

Connect with IRL friends. When you're wrapped up in a cancellation, the negative opinions of a handful of foaming at the mouth freaks loom way larger than they actually are. And social media dramatically skews our sense of social priorities such that the approval rating of complete strangers starts to seem more important than people we actually know, and trust, and who actually know us. Go get a meal with a buddy. Watch a dumb movie. Talk to your grandma about her plans for her garden. Surround yourself with real people you care about and focus on their life and problems, to help put things in perspective.

Find distracting, active, rewarding activities that bring you out of the digital space and into physical reality. Not everyone is talking about you, not everybody hates you, most people have no fucking clue what has been said about you, and most people do not give a fuck about you (that's good). There are so many areas of life that are completely fucking untouched by what a bunch of social media power users have to say online. Go volunteer to clean up a park, run some errands, take an exercise class, foster a dog, regrout your bathroom, knit a hat. Even if the worst case scenario happens and a cancellation sticks, it's really only among a certain very vocal group of miserable fucking people. There is a whole world around you that will not ever care, and you will have a life outside of this.

Good luck!!

[pangur-and-grim]

this might be cringe, but we had to write 1 page of description about something and I chose my favourite object in the whole world

From how it looks, the statue should smell like algae and regurgitated milk (like an unweaned kitten, if it fell into a pond). In actuality, its only odour comes from the thick blanket of dust it wears. Its four legs are stout, toe-less. Its tail stands straight like the pole of bumper-car, eager and tensed to wag. Two wet eyes peer up. They are black enough to see your own face reflected. Under them, the tight line of a mouth, melancholic and imploring. 

Tapping its stout back (and leaving fingerprints in the dust) would reveal that it is hollow. A living animal might contain organs, and bones, and even a swallowed meal, but this creature holds only air. It can produce no sounds of its own. It will produce no waste. It will never want anything, nor squeeze anything foul out of its rear, but still it seems to beg for sustenance. Being frozen only adds to this tension; staring at it, each would wait for the other to blink. This is why a slab of plastic meat has been laid before it. An offering, like cream and butter for a fairy.

‘Frog kitten’ is how the online listing described it, and accordingly, it has an amphibious lack of ears. Its square body, shaped like a loaf of bread, is covered in mouldy splashes of night-green and white-beige. Two dabs of a cleaner white across its back only serve to emphasize the drabness of its majority. Five rake-marks trail down one side: scars, wounds, the bright green of its meat bleeding through. Could the sculptor have scratched it with their fingers, deeply and deliberately? And why? Why create such a young, sweet creature, and then harm it? 

The creature has no anus. The creature has no ear canals. The creature has no urethra, nor cloaca, no mouth, nor pores, but it does have two penetrating nostrils. If you shone a light down those narrow passages, you could explore the hollowness of its belly.

Touch the creature, and it is cold. Stroke it, and it is smooth, but speckled with the smallest of lumps and warts. It is dry but shines as though wet with perspired oils. You cannot look at this mute dead thing without seeing it as alive. The longer you hold its gaze, the less of the dust you smell, and the more of the algae and the milk. 

[sparklingchim]

game on 02 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.9k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: 18+

warnings: lots of smoochies !! 🤭, their first kiss <3, umm mentions of jk's infamous threesome again 😔, koo talks abt taking girls in missionary what can i say he is a man

summary: jungkook and you practice acting for the cameras. kissing him feels more right than you anticipated.

a/n: yayy chapter 2 is here!!!! <3 writing this was truly saur much fun n i hope u have fun reading too !!! 😋

read chappie one here

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

"Just kiss me."

"Hold on a second."

"We really need to practise this."

"I know, just give me a minute."

You scoot away from Jungkook on the couch. You were sitting so close, almost about to kiss him actually, but his intense, doe-eyed gaze made you pause, needing a grounding breath.

You’ve never been this close to his face, and somehow, you can’t seem to cross the invisible line that keeps you from just pressing your mouth on his. Jungkook’s your friend, after all. You’ve known him since he was five and once saw him get his head stuck at school, so of course it’s weird.

You press your lips together in an attempt to focus, and lean in again, but once your eyes meet his, a smile urges on your mouth.

"Oh my god." Jungkook’s frustrated sigh cuts the air. "This can’t already be doomed to failure because of a simple kiss."

"It’s not! I just need to mentally prepare myself."

"I feel...offended? Kinda?" Jungkook weaves his fingers through his hair. "I’ve never had to convince someone to kiss me."

"It’s not you. I promise!" you say, reaching for his knee. "Under any other circumstance, if we weren’t friends, I’d love to kiss you. You’re hot and cute, but the situation we’re in makes me feel so stupid. It’s absurd."

Jungkook cringes when you call him cute and removes your hand off his knee.

Yesterday, when Jungkook showed up unannounced, it took him full ten minutes to convince you he wasn’t pulling a prank on you.

Who would believe their friend begging you to fake date them? It’s ridiculous. Only happens in the fictional world.

But then Jungkook showed you the pap picture that was circulating online. The comments and gossip were nasty and you knew he was caught up in a deep mess.

In the photo, Jungkook was surrounded by two girls, his arms draped casually around their waists as they stumbled out of the club, a half-full drink lazily held in his hand. His hair was a tousled mess, likely from the girls running their fingers through it, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a small peek into his defined chest. It was bold, provocative — definitely not the ideal image of a responsible twenty-year-old football rookie.

Probably the worst pap pic you’ve seen of him so far. And the worst timing too.

"You were wasted," you commented, staring at the article he was showing you on his phone.

"And I had so much fun last night." His voice was tinged with frustration, like a child whose favourite toy had just been snatched away. "But then I woke up to this picture, and a flood of missed calls and texts." He rubbed his hands over his face, exhaling sharply. "They just had to ruin it for me."

Noticing your raised eyebrow, Jungkook quickly backtracked. "No, I know it’s my fault too. I shouldn’t have done this right before the World Cup, especially after what I promised. I just hate how everything turns into such a big deal, just because... well, just because I’m me."

The idea of fake dating Jungkook had seemed absurd, something out of a rom-com rather than real life. But the more he explained the pressure he was under, the more you understood why he needed this.

Jungkook was your best friend, and if kissing him in public could save his career, why not help him?

While you got ready for meeting his manager, stepping out of your comfy, rotting-at-home clothes, which consisted of little shorts and an oversized t-shirt (you think it’s actually Jungkook’s, but you’re not quite sure since it’s been in your closet for years now), and slipping into a casual, more presentable outfit, Jungkook busied himself fixing your laundry machine.

Jungkook’s manager knows you well – his entire team does. You are known as Jungkook’s close friend and had been spotted with him on multiple occasions.

Taesung greeted you warmly, though surprise flickered across his face when Jungkook introduced you as the solution to the fake dating plan.

You felt Taesung’s gaze assessing you, weighing your suitability for the role. Jungkook’s PR agent mirrored his scepticism, tilting her head in doubt. They exchanged uncertain glances, which made you nervous, but Jungkook was determined. Jungkook wasn’t Jungkook if he didn’t get what he wanted. With a few persuasive words and his usual charm, he quickly won Taesung over, who sighed and leaned back in his chair, conceding defeat.

"We need to establish the narrative from the start," Taesung said seriously. "The media will dig into your background, and they’ll want to know if there’s anyone else in the picture. So, to be clear, you’re officially single. No boyfriend, no complicated past relationships that could surface. We don’t need any messy stories."

You assured them that there was none. Multiple times. No angry exes, no secret relationships – your personal life was as drama-free as it could get.

Taesung slid a document across the desk.

"This ensures that whatever happens, no details of this arrangement-"

Jungkook’s hand shot out, halting the paper. "No," he said firmly. "She doesn’t need to sign anything."

"Jungkook, it’s just a formality," Jiwoo began, but Jungkook insisted.

"I trust ___. She’s not just anybody. She’s my best friend. If she says she won’t talk, she won’t talk. The NDA isn’t necessary."

"It’s okay," you assured him gently.

Jungkook shook his head. "No, this is ridiculous. You’re not signing a stupid contract."

After more arguing, his manager eventually relented.

Jiwoo outlined the plan in more detail with Taesung – public appearances, social media posts, carefully orchestrated moments that would sell the story to the public. You felt a bit intimidated by the pressure, but you’d get used to it. After all, this arrangement is only for a few months – just until his management can announce that you’d mutually decided to break up on good terms.

But you both need to practise before stepping in front of the cameras.

Which leads you to this moment, a day later, sitting on your couch trying to practice how to act like a couple. And it’s not going well at all.

"Okay, let’s start from the basics then," Jungkook suggests. He rises to his feet, offering you his hand. "Hold my hand."

You gingerly accept his hand, standing up as well.

"See, don’t we look cute?" Jungkook drags you to the mirror. "Or maybe – let’s intertwine our fingers. I think that would look better." He holds your interlaced hands up between the two of you, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. "So cute, right?"

A giggle bubbles in your throat. "You act like you’ve never had a girlfriend."

"Well, it has been a while," he admits, the slightest sulk on his lips. "I’m too busy for relationships." He swings your hands. "The only times I ever hold a girl’s hand is in missionary, above their head when-"

"Jungkook," you interrupt quickly before he can delve any deeper into the story. You give him a mock glare, but there’s no hiding the amusement dancing in your eyes. "Didn’t we both agree on only talking about your bed stories after I’ve had at least one bottle of soju – preferably two, so I can mentally brace myself?"

You love him, you really do, but you don’t want to hear about his bed stories, unless you’re the slightest bit tipsy at first.

"Oh, yeah." He shakes his head apologetically. "Forgot about that."

"Wait, maybe that’s what we should do!" you exclaim as an idea pops into your mind. Your hand slips out of his, and you take a step toward the kitchen. "I think there are a few bottles of soju in the fridge."

"We’re not getting drunk to build up the courage to kiss," he insists. "We shouldn’t need alcohol to pretend we’re into each other."

Jungkook pulls you closer to him, and you stumble slightly, but his hand instinctively moves to the small of your back, steadying you.

"Fine," you sigh dramatically, hand on his chest. "Was just an idea to make this easier for us." The fabric of his shirt is extremely soft and your fingers glide over it.

"I mean, it’s not like we’re complete strangers. And they know it too. We’ve been through enough to pull this off without breaking a sweat."

He’s is right. The public knows you’re one of Jungkook’s closest friends. It wouldn’t be totally unbelievable that you two might have fallen in love.

After all, you’ve always been comfortable with each other —hugging, cuddling during movie nights, play-fight over silly things just to annoy each other. You’ve shared quiet moments, like when you’d fall asleep on his shoulder after a long day or when he’d run his fingers through your hair absentmindedly while you talked. There were times when Jungkook was exhausted and crashed at your place, your fingers gently scratching his head as he slept peacefully. You’ve kissed each other’s cheeks in thanks without hesitation.

Jungkook’s touch isn’t foreign to you.

And still, the thought of acting like you’re in love when you’re not feels strange. Sure, you’ve always been physically close, but this was different. This time, every gesture would be for an audience, every touch would carry a different meaning. It wasn’t just casual anymore.

"I guess," you reply, fiddling with the hem of his oversized t-shirt, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I think it’s just weird to be this close for show."

Jungkook watches you for a moment, his eyes softening as he considers your words. "Yeah," he murmurs. "But it’s not like we’re faking the friendship part. The rest...we’ll figure out." His fingers clasp your hip, the pads of his fingers gently digging into your flesh. "Don’t think about it too much," he says. "When we have our first public appearance as a couple, pretend like the cameras aren’t there, act nonchalant. Just... y’know. You and me."

You pout, an involuntarily frustrated grumble leaving your lips as you drop your forehead on his chest.

"I hope I’ll do well under all the attention."

You’ve dealt with your fair share of noisy people trying to pry into your relationship with Jungkook, but so far, it’s been somewhat manageable.

"Just you and me," Jungkook repeats, his tone softer and more assured this time. "Nothing can happen to you when I’m there."

You glance up at him, taking in the gentle lines of his face.

"Maybe you should’ve hired a girl that can deal well with attention," you voice your thoughts.

"No." Jungkook’s immediate response rolls off harshly on his tongue. "You were my first thought. I wouldn’t have done this with anyone else but you."

"I was your first choice?" Giddiness makes your face shine.

"Yeah. I don’t think I would’ve felt comfortable with anyone but you."

"Be honest, you just really wanna kiss me."

You stand on your tippy toes, a silly smile spreading across your face.

Jungkook cocks his head to the side, a teasing glint buried in his eyes.

"I think you do."

With a surge of confidence, you take a small step closer, your heart beating a little faster as you close the gap between you and Jungkook. Your lips meet in a gentle, fleeting touch. The contact only lasts for a moment before you pull back, your eyes searching his for a reaction.

"That was a smooch. Not a kiss."

You frown upon hearing him complain.

"What, you want to make out with me in public?"

Jungkook sniffs a laugh. "No, but maybe a little more than how fifth graders kiss."

"You’re a kissing expert now?" you quip back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jungkook leans in slightly. "I just know what I like."

The challenge in his voice sparks something in you. "Then show me how you like it."

His gaze drops to your lips, and a flutter of excitement spreads in your tummy. It’s unexpected and thrilling and it catches you off guard.

Jungkook’s hand, which had been resting on your back, slowly glides up, his fingers curling around the side of your face, his thumb brushing delicately against your cheekbone.

Your breath hitches as he leans in. His lips meet yours again, but this time there’s more weight behind the contact – still soft, but deeper, more intentional. His lips move slowly and there’s a warmth to it, a tenderness that makes your heart race even as the kiss remains gentle. He tilts his head slightly, deepening the connection just enough to make you melt into him.

The teasing atmosphere lingers in the back of your mind, but for now, it’s pushed aside by the gentle pressure of his lips on yours.

Kissing Jungkook doesn’t feel weird – which makes it a little weird.

When you both finally pull back, it’s gradual. You can feel his breath, warm and steady, mingling with your own.

"Like that," he whispers, his voice barely audible, yet it sends a shiver down your spine. "You’re a good kisser."

You pull back completely. "Excuse me?" you say. "You were doubting my kissing abilities?"

"No, not at all!" Jungkook shakes his head, amusement crinkling his eyes as he gazes at your sulky face. "You’re just a very good kisser. Like, super gentle and smooth."

Heat crawls up your cheeks. You ignore the flush of warmth and keep your composure. "Have you been using the lip balm I got you? Your lips are soft."

"I know, right? Not chapped at all anymore."

He traces two fingers along his bottom lip and your eyes follow the motion, finding yourself inexplicably drawn to his lips.

"Are we done practising?"

"Do you think we looked natural?" Jungkook’s hand slips into yours once more. While he is focused on the mirror, adjusting the way your bodies fit together – tugging you closer, alternating between holding your hand and interlacing your fingers – your mind is still replaying the memory of the tender press of his lips. "For me, it felt pretty natural. Not awkward at all. What do you think?"

It’s the simplicity with which he says it that draws a short laugh out of you.

The sound grabs his attention. "What?"

"You’re just...extremely serious about this. I don’t think they’ll analyse the way we hold hands, Kook."

"But that’s their favourite thing to do," Jungkook replies. "The gossip mills love analysing every step you take, where your eyes wander, who you smile at." A note of bitterness threads through his words.

He’s been playing pro for just two years and has fallen victim to greedy people intruding on his life so many times already. Former friends who leaked private conversations, acquaintances who turned their brief interactions into tabloid fodder, even strangers who felt entitled to a piece of him just because he was in the public eye.

Jungkook searched for solace and silence at your place many times, trying to escape the madness. In the quiet of your dorm, breathing felt easier.

You never asked questions, never pried. In a world where everyone seemed out to get something from him, you just let him be, offering him the comfort of your presence without demanding anything in return.

"People were just criticising this dude – ah, who was it again?" Jungkook stares at the ceiling, raking through his thoughts. "I can’t remember his name, but this guy was getting called out for choosing the booth seat while making his girlfriend sit in the aisle seat."

"The aisle seat? Come on, it’s an unwritten rule that-" You fall silent once you catch Jungkook’s pointed expression. "I mean, yeah. It’s definitely wrong to make a big deal about it. Maybe she prefers sitting there," you shrug.

"But do you see what I mean?" he asks. "Whether you intend to or not, you’re always judging what others do. And that judgement only intensifies when it involves a celebrity."

"Ah, when did you become so famous Jeon Jungkook?" You sigh, looking down at your linked hands.

"I know, right? Two years ago, no one would’ve cared if I had a threesome." He shakes his head in disbelief. "And now I am being punished for it—kicked off the national team, and my best friend has to save me by fake dating me."

"I feel like this would make a good movie," you giggle.

“We have to practise hard, then," he says.

You pull your phone from your pocket. "What if we film ourselves kissing so we can monitor it better?" You set up your phone on a nearby shelf and position yourselves in front of the camera. "Don’t engaged couples do this? I feel like we’re practising for our wedding kiss."

"Oh, butterflies."

"Huh?" You stare at the way he holds his hand against his tummy.

"You just told me you want to marry me. That gave me butterflies."

You slap his arm. "Stop being silly, we have a whole nation to fool that we’re in love."

~

Hang outs with Jungkook often end with the two of you lounging on the couch, snacks scattered everywhere, and a movie playing on the TV.

"Next one?" Jungkook asks from his spot beside you, inching closer with his pleading doe eyes.

You try to push him away by the, but he doesn’t budge.

"I need to study. Like, for real." You had warned him before starting the movie, agreeing to watch only one, but he still tried his luck.

He holds up one finger. "Just one."

You push him off your body, and this time he allows it, his back slumping against the couch. The grumble of complaint in his throat gets muffled by his pursed lips.

"You’re smart. The material is probably set in your brain anyway. No need to revise anything."

You scoff at his bratty words.

"So you won’t ever need to ditch hangouts for football practice because you’re already so good at it?"

"Well, no." He drags the word out, brows furrowed as he considers your question, trying to come up with a reasonable answer. "But I know you don’t need to study as much as you do. You’re just naturally smart."

"I wish, but I ace my exams because I study as much as I do."

"Aish," Jungkook mutters, standing up from the couch and stretching his limbs. His toned tummy peeks out from under his lifted shirt.

"Karina will be home soon anyway," you say. "And I’m not ready to play pretend in front of her yet." The thought of confessing to your roommate that Jungkook is now your boyfriend makes you shudder.

It was one of the conditions that made you briefly reconsider if you could really pull this off or if Jungkook should find another girl. You didn’t just have to act in front of the cameras – everyone had to believe that you and Jungkook are a couple, including your friends and family. You dread the day you have to tell your parents.

You know they once secretly hoped Jungkook would become your boyfriend when you were older, but as he became famous and the public started scrutinising his every move, your parents grew wary of his wild, reckless side.

You follow Jungkook to the door.

"You think she’ll believe us?"

"I dunno," you shrug. "Not sure if she’ll buy it. She’ll probably be suspicious since I’ve never talked about you in that way when we gossip, but I think we’ve practised enough to at least make it look like we love each other."

Jungkook nods and hugs you briefly. "We’ll figure it out." He steps out of your apartment, typing on his phone. "My manager sent me details about our first public appearance." He scans the text, but quickly looks up at you again with an annoyed frown. "Ah, so many words. I’ll just forward you the messages." With a sweet smile and a quick wave, he starts to leave, but you tug at the back of his shirt.

You cup his face, pulling him down to you, and plant a kiss on his lips.

"You’re my boyfriend now. Act like it."

[schizopositivity]

It's interesting that when the topic of schizophrenia or psychosis is brought up (especially on the internet), people who don't have it are so often willing to dole out the personal information of someone who does have it. It's usually a family member of the person talking. And these people seem to have no problem revealing this person's most sensitive and embarrassing information.

I understand you are trying to find connection in some way. And you have a loved one with schizophrenia/psychosis so you feel that you should chime in. But tbh I don't want to hear about a stranger's most vulnerable moments. And I don't think the person who experienced it would be happy to hear that their family member/neighbor/etc is just spreading that around online. And it rarely adds anything helpful to the discussion, just an anecdotal story that is typically used to generalize an entire group of people.

So if you know/knew someone with schizophrenia or psychosis and you want to tell their story for them, please consider these things: Would they be alright with me sharing this publicly? Does this add anything meaningful to the discussion? Am I speaking over people who have experienced schizophrenia or psychosis themselves? Am I using this as a justification to generalize a group of people?

[luffington]

young master ♡

➤ summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: doflamingo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 3.7k

➤ warnings: kinda sub!doflamingo (he’s a horny menace), mild dubcon, possessive doffy, spit kink, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), degradation, name-calling

➤ notes: this takes place before dressrosa but i’m only halfway done with the arc so sorry for any inaccuracies! i haven't posted my writing online in years so please lmk what you think :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Doflamingo was sulking. His signature smile was comically turned upside down and his arms were crossed over his chest. Feet resting on top of his desk as he leaned back in his plush office chair, crumpling the important documents strewn underneath them that he was meant to review and sign. He knew he probably looked like a petulant child, and he felt like one, too. This was all your fucking fault.

Even though you were only in your twenties, you were already a well-known Vice Admiral. Vergo had informed Doflamingo of your impressive Haki abilities months ago, but that wasn’t the only reason he kept a close eye on you. You were sexy as hell, even in a Marines uniform, and he delighted in every brief interaction he had with you at Warlord meetings. When you decided to take some time off, he snatched you up immediately with a tantalizing job offer. After all, working for him was technically still a Government job, and he was helping so many countries in need!

You made it clear from the very beginning that this was a temporary gig and you had no intention of permanently joining the Donquixote Family. You were his business partner, not his subordinate. He never planned on honoring that agreement, of course, but you were making his plans particularly difficult. 

The man had hundreds of thousands – if not millions – of loyal and passive subjects. Obedient workers who never questioned his judgment and praised his iron fist, from the filthy commoners at the bottom to the Elite Officers up top. But not you. 

You had the kind of effortless confidence that got under his skin. You were unbothered and detached from his evil antics, from him. He made his presence known everywhere he went and was always the focus of the room, but it seemed like you paid more attention to the damn servants than him. His threats and intimidation which made thousands tremble in fear hardly made you flinch. When he revealed the secret of Dressrosa’s toys in hopes of getting a reaction from you, you practically yawned. 

You knew who he was. You knew what he was capable of. You didn’t fucking care.

You weren’t afraid of him, and this greatly disturbed him.

A few days ago, you had strolled into his office without even knocking on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but you barely took notice. You were there to discuss your agreement in order to figure out a time frame of how long he needed you. He threw his head back and laughed loudly as he said, “That’s adorable. You really think you can get away from me, hm?”

Perceptive as always, you noticed the slightest twitch of his middle finger and immediately held an Armament Haki-coated hand in front of your chest, blocking the nearly invisible string flung your way. “Doffy, I’m being serious.”

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. Diamante used that nickname once in front of you and now you wouldn’t call him anything else. You thought it was cute. “Since when can you block my strings?”

“Do you really think I’d be a Vice Admiral if I couldn’t do that? You were so obvious about it, too.” You clicked your tongue, knowing full well that anyone less powerful than you wouldn’t be able to perceive his movement. Prominent veins popped in Doflamingo’s forehead but the blonde man stayed silent. “I think I’ll stay here for a few more months, at least. Maybe longer if I don’t have a terrible time here. Dressrosa is kind of growing on me.” 

“You’re acting like I can’t keep you here by force.” Doflamingo interrupted your train of thought. “I could have Sugar turn you into a cute little doll, and then your Vice Admiral position would disappear. Or Giolla could turn you into a painting to hang on my wall.” He paused as if considering his options, knowing full well what he truly wanted. “Maybe I’ll keep you tied up with strings as my own personal pet.”

Many times he’d pictured you tied to the headboard of his bed, stripped naked and covered in his drying cum as he used you however he wanted. Perhaps then he’d finally ignite a spark of fear in you. 

“If you actually wanted to do that, it would’ve happened already. But you’re the one who hired me, remember?” You acted like you were explaining something obvious to a kid. “If you try anything against me, I can always call up the Navy and tell them what you’re doing to your poor innocent citizens. Maybe even let them know your alias? Begins with a J, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He snarled, sitting up in his seat immediately and binding strings around your wrists to keep them pinned above your head. You kept your eyes trained on his, a determined and almost taunting glint in them. 

“I’m not a big fan of blackmail, so I don’t want to do that,” you replied in an even tone. “I’m just saying that I can. Now, are we gonna talk business, or are you gonna play cat’s cradle all day?”

Doflamingo should’ve killed you right then and there. That would’ve put an end to his confusing thoughts about you, but your conversation only made them worse. You were on his mind constantly, to the point where he couldn’t focus on anything else. It was an obsession, an infatuation, one completely unbecoming of a heavenly being like himself. People were meant to grovel at his feet and kiss the very ground he walked on – why the fuck were you not affected?

He finally had enough. He pushed the chair away from his desk and stormed out of his office. Servants hurried away in fear, knowing that his scowl and heavy footsteps meant nothing but trouble. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around his mind — he wanted to make you scream, to completely immobilize you with his power, to kiss you so hard you saw stars. No, that wasn’t it. 

He wanted you to call him ‘Young Master’. 

Doflamingo threw open the double doors to a secluded drawing room in his typical dramatic flair. You were alone, reclining on a couch and reading a book. Even this pissed him off – you were in a potential viper’s nest, surrounded by powerful people who could turn on you at any point, yet you didn’t feel the need to keep others around you for protection. You turned your head towards the intruder in confusion. His massive body filled the door frame and light from the hallway illuminated him and his feathery coat from behind, making him look like a fallen angel.

“What Devil Fruit did you eat.” It was a statement, not a question. His voice was a dangerously low growl. 

“I already told you, I didn’t eat one.” You said slowly, slightly thrown off by his demeanor but still not afraid. 

“You lying bitch!” He roared, using his strings to slam the doors behind him as he crossed the room towards you in three giant steps. “You must have some kind of mind control ability, or manipulation, or… I don’t fucking know! Tell me what’s happening!” He threw his head in his hands and crouched over, almost as if he was in pain. “Why can’t I stop fucking thinking about you!”

Your mouth opened slightly and you blinked a few times to process the situation, and then it hit you. A sly grin slowly formed on your face as you dog-eared your book and set it down next to you. You knew this man was incapable of love in its purest sense, but maybe… “Doffy, have you never been attracted to someone before?”

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at you furiously behind his sunglasses. Of course he’d fucking been attracted to people – he refused to settle for nothing but the best with his lovers. He had fucked enough sexy men and women over the years to form a small army. But none of them were like you. 

They were all cheaply made toys, suitable for one or two uses then tossed in the trash when they broke or when he got bored. He was a greedy and spoiled child who always got what he wanted. But with you… it felt like he was staring through the front window of a shop at a shiny new toy. So close and so enticing but completely out of reach.

“Fuck you! I… I…” You would never know how that sentence was supposed to end, because he sunk to his knees and hung his head in frustrated shame. He slammed his fist against the floor hard enough to rattle the room. “Why won’t you belong to me?!”

The almighty King of Dressrosa, the feared Warlord, the powerful underground broker, was on his knees begging for you. He knew he sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. But he couldn’t go a moment longer without getting what he wanted, what was rightfully his. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had always stood your ground because you knew your worth, but sometimes you did it to purposely push the blonde man’s buttons since no one else seemed to have the courage to do so. But you were just teasing him – this was not the outcome you had in mind. 

You slowly stood from the couch to move in front of him. Even bent over, the massive man was practically your height, but he had never seemed smaller.

“Doffy,” you began in a quiet voice and reached out to gently touch his feather-clad shoulder, but he slammed the ground again. 

“I don’t need you to patronize me! I need…” he trailed off again and hesitated for a moment before realizing what he needed to do to calm the fire roaring inside him. Fine, he would give you a fucking reason to worship him. He threw himself at your midsection, making you yelp in surprise. He had finally drawn a reaction out of you, and it spurred him on even more. Rough hands yanked your shirt up to your breasts and he hungrily mouthed at the soft skin of your tummy, a frenzied mess of tongue and teeth and soft lips. “I need you. Give yourself to me.” He said breathlessly, punctuating his words with a sharp bite at your hip. 

You were frozen in place but weak in the knees, unable to do anything but accept his bites and bruises. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined what his long tongue and nimble fingers felt like on your body, in your body. He nipped at your skin hard enough to bruise then soothed it with his tongue, sending heat straight to your core. 

Doflamingo was in a drugged-like haze, mind clouded with a dizzying mix of lust and hatred and longing. He belatedly noticed that you weren’t resisting him when he popped the button on your jeans. When he looked up, he realized your cheeks were flushed and your gaze was trained on his long fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants. 

He smiled wickedly, feeling a sliver of regained control. “You fucking whore. You want this, don’t you?”

“Doffy, you’re the one literally trying to get in my pants.”

“Shut up.” He snarled, annoyed yet allured by your sweet giggle afterwards. He yanked your jeans down to your ankles to reveal pretty pink lace panties underneath. They practically matched the color of his coat – you had to have worn those just for him. Might as well take them later. 

A needy and unashamed whine tore from his lips when he saw your pussy. Even more perfect than he’d imagined all those times he fucked his fist alone in bed. He told himself this was what was necessary to crush that annoying ego of yours, knowing full well he was nearly shaking with pure carnal desire. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise and shoved your thighs apart before diving in. His tongue was ravenous, licking a sloppy stripe from your ass to your clit, mouth closing around the nub and sucking harshly. The sweetest moan he’d ever heard fell from your lips and he echoed it, eager to hear more. 

Fingers tangled in his short blonde hair as you tried to steady yourself. It was too much all at once. You tried to tug him away to tell him to slow down, yet wanted to pull him even closer. Doflamingo flinched at the contact. Part of him wanted to tie your hands behind your back because how dare you touch him without permission. But instead, he groaned at the rough pull on his scalp, which went straight to his hardening cock. His grip on you tightened as he dragged you further onto his face.

His long tongue lapped messily at your folds then slipped into your cunt, shallowly thrusting the wet tip in and out. He laughed in delight at your delicious juices coating his tastebuds and making his head spin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He panted and rubbed his nose against your clit, making you jump. A sloppy string of his saliva still connected his mouth to your entrance. “I think you like me after all.”

“I’d like anyone who eats me out this good,” you quipped.

“But no one’s as good as me, hm?” To prove his point, he shoved the entirety of his skilled tongue deep inside you. You threw your head back and whined as the wet muscle curled and twisted inside you, hungrily lapping at your sensitive inner walls. “No one will ever be as good as me. Say you’re mine and you can have this every day.”

“F-fuck, Doffy… so, mmh, good…” He ate you out like a man starved, desperately sucking at every part of your pussy he could reach. One hand moved from your hip, leaving dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises behind, and plunged into his own pants. He let out a deep groan at the contact.

“Call me Young Master.” Doflamingo breathed heavily as he pulled his pants down slightly. Your jaw dropped when he revealed his massive and fully erect dick, leaking beads of precum and bobbing against his stomach. You knew he’d be big based on his height, but this was inhuman. The blonde man noticed your hungry gaze and chuckled. “You want me so badly. Stop denying the truth and I’ll give you everything you want. I am a benevolent king, after all.”

You actually laughed at that, and he didn’t even try to be angry – being on full display for you meant he couldn’t hide the way your disobedience made his cock twitch. His other hand slithered between your legs and rubbed at your folds and the smile fell off your face.

You stumbled backwards – there was nothing behind you to lean on and your legs were quickly turning into jelly. “W-wait, Doffy, I can’t, ahh, l-let me sit…”

Two of his fingers moved downwards and bound your feet to the floor with his string. Immobilizing your bottom half like a statue but intentionally leaving your top half free to grab at his hair and body as you pleased. “Your king will grant you permission to move when I want to.” 

“S’okay, I l-like seeing you look up to me for once.” Your witty reply was lost on the blonde, who had spread your folds apart and was hypnotized by your entrance clenching around nothing. You were so fucking tiny compared to him and he ached at the thought of molding your insides to take him and him alone.

Just one thick finger was enough to make you moan and pant, slowly pushing its way inside your cunt. “Shit, you’re so tight.” The soft squelches of your inner walls rang in his ears and pretty pearls of precum leaked from his dick. “Perfect fucking pussy. Give it to me.”

A second digit was soon added, scissoring you apart expertly. Unsurprisingly, the man really knew how to use his fingers. He crooked them and brushed against your most sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and hold onto him even harder. Sharp teeth playfully bit at your inner thigh in response. Doflamingo gathered some of the constant dribble of precum from the tip of his cock to lube his rough palm. He considered making you spit on his hand to ease the glide, but a better idea came to mind.

“Spit in my mouth.” He ordered, tilting his head up and sticking his tongue out. Waiting for you to follow his command like a good toy.

You were taken aback by the sudden request, but you gathered a ball of spit in your mouth like you were told… and it landed directly on the lens of his sunglasses, obscuring the vision of one eye. Doflamingo knew that it wasn’t just badly aimed. This was an act of defiance. You intentionally spit on his defining accessory, his very essence.

“You stupid slut.” The venomous insult came with a maniacally pleased grin. He pushed the stained glasses onto his forehead and you finally saw his eyes for the first time. Gorgeous and bright blue with lust-blown pupils. Looking at his beautifully depraved expression in its entirety, you briefly wondered if he really was an angel. His fingers sped up to a nearly brutal pace and he slipped in a third digit, causing you to choke on your spit. “Love me. Love me.”

A divine being who fell from heaven to beg at your feet. 

“Y-you’re fucking insane,” you panted with a blissful smile, your cunt clenching down deliciously on him. “Make up your, mmh, mind.”

“Adore me.” He responded immediately. “Say you’re mine. Be mine.”

Even though you refused to respond, the blonde was lost in his fantasies yet grounded in the reality of your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure. Mouth hanging open, hands nearly going numb from how hard you held onto him. He needed to see you like this every day – no, every hour. He could keep you under his desk like a pet, ready to suck his dick whenever he allowed you to. Or maybe you’d sit in his lap all day, one of his hands fondling your tits as he attended meetings and forced his subordinates to watch him play with his favorite toy. 

But that was too mundane. He could snatch up anyone in Dressrosa right now and do the same. No, the twisted fantasy that really made his cock ache was already happening. That annoyingly sexy confidence of yours was threatening his godliness. 

Maybe he’d make you step on him next time.

“Call me Young Master,” he begged again, too far gone to realize how ridiculous he sounded. Tongue hanging out like a dog (and panting like one, too), he rutted into his hand even faster. His cock was absolutely throbbing, red and angry and dripping precum. He was in no position to be giving orders. You stifled a giggle with your hand, which quickly turned into a moan as his fingers bumped against your cervix. 

“I already t-told you,” you sucked in a few shaky breaths. He was watching you intently and still smiling, but his fingers never slowed down. “You’re not my –mm– Master, I don’t, ahh, work for you…”

“But why not?” He whined again. “At least call me it when you cum. I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t.” 

You didn’t acknowledge the ridiculously empty threat, instead throwing your head back when his fingers crooked against your most sensitive spot. Slick was dribbling down your legs – Doflamingo licked it off of your thighs before slurping around his digits buried inside you. The blonde echoed your unashamedly loud moans, practically on the edge himself. He only needed one thing to send him into a rapturous white bliss. 

He stared up at you unblinkingly, face frozen in a grin as he took in all the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. Sweat dribbled down your forehead, eyebrows furrowed together, body tense and breath hot. “I-I’m gonna… gonna…” He crooked his fingers inside you the way he’d done thousands of times to turn people into obedient little puppets.

“Doffy~!” Your face contorted into the most divine expression he’d ever seen, crying out his name like a desperate prayer. 

You ignored his order. You used that stupid fucking nickname. 

He came hard. 

The tight coil that had been building in his groin for days at the mere thought of you finally snapped. An animalistic moan left his lips as thick ropes of cum coated his hand and spilled onto his abdomen. He looked even more blissed out than you, panting hard and shuddering and nearly overstimulating himself with the hand on his cock still slowly moving up and down. 

Doflamingo finally removed his fingers from inside you and loudly sucked them clean of your essence. Still craning his neck upwards so he wouldn’t break eye contact with you. You could lose yourself inside that piercing gaze, so full of obsession and hunger, especially when it was coming from a position of worship rather than condescension. 

Blinking out of your stupor, you realized the blonde’s cum-coated hand was in front of your mouth. If you were anyone else, he would’ve shoved his fingers all the way to your throat and made you choke on it. Instead, he stayed still and kept quiet. This was an offering. 

You grabbed his wrist and kitten-licked his sticky palm twice, humming thoughtfully as if appraising the taste. His grin grew even wider. Then you pulled away and teasingly said, “You take care of the rest of it.”

Doflamingo simply giggled in delight — you’d willingly tasted the essence of a god, one that was soon to be your god, but you were still too stubborn to give in. He didn’t expect you to crumble so easily and he didn’t want you to. He was having way too much fun. The blonde smeared the rest of his cum on the crotch of the pink panties still pooled around your ankles. 

“That’s disgusting.” You huffed in annoyance and rolled your eyes. “What am I supposed to wear out of here?”

The man chuckled lowly and rose to his feet, suddenly towering above you at full height. He wiped the dried spit off of his sunglasses before returning them to their rightful place on the bridge of his nose. 

“Who said anything about leaving?” You paled at the sight of his devilish grin but felt your core clench in need. “You still haven’t called me by my proper title.”

[chris-hallelujah]

Have You Ever Tried This One? | m.s.

Summary: The triplets attend singer!reader's concert and Matt gets catches her eye from the crowd.

Part 2 Here!!

Warnings: insinuating sexual acts, talks of sex positions

Word Count: 640 words

My Master List

Join my tag list : @matthewsroses

Divider by: @anitalenia

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @delilahsturniolo . Thank you for letting me use your work as inspiration! Also thank you to @chestersturniolo for helping me find her piece. I do not give consent for my work to be reposted, rewritten, or shared on this platform or any other.

<3 - Billie

The lights in the arena darkened around the group standing at the barricade. Matt, Nick, Chris, and Chris' girlfriend cheered along with everyone else as you appeared in a spotlight on the stage. "Boston! It's so good to see you!" you exclaimed into the microphone causing the crowd to roar. Matt practically had hearts for eyes as you sauntered around the stage in small, sparkly outfits. Sure, he had heard your music and seen you in photos before, but there was something different about seeing you in front of him. Chris and Nick quickly took notice of Matt's in awe state and chuckled.

After a few numbers you had reached the interactive section of your concert. Oftentimes you chose a person in the crowd who was dancing the most or seemed to be having the best time. It was never actually based on your physical attraction to someone, until this time. You had been eyeing the three identical boys in the front row. One specifically caught your eye. You'd seen these boys online before and while you didn't know much about them, you knew which one you wanted. He seemed a bit more quiet than the other two and was staring at you like you were glowing. "Girls, girls, come here!" you spoke into the mic, gesturing for two of your dancers to come over. "Do you see that guy right there? Yes, the triplet but that one, with the pink t shirt," you pointed in Matt's direction. He froze as the camera panned to him for the crowd to see on the big screen. Everyone went wild causing Nick and Chris to bust out laughing. The lights throughout the arena flashed red and blue as a siren sound played throughout the stadium. You knelt down in front of him, "hey there, what's your name?" You cooed into the microphone, batting your eyelashes.

"M-Matthew!" he stammered nervously as Nick filmed the interaction.

"Oh Matthew, I'm afraid you're under arrest. You are just way too hot!" You giggled into the microphone, "Will you take these sweetie?" The security guard took the fuzzy pink handcuffs from your hand and held them over the barricade for Matt to grab. His blush was iminent as he took them with a smile and a nod. You stood back up, winking at him. "There are so many thoughts running through my head, Matthew. Dirty, dirty - oh! my clothes are falling off for you, Matthew!" You laughed stepping out of your dress revealing a shiny pink body suit. The intro of the song began and you danced and sang with your crew. "Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit. God bless your dad's genetics," You sang, gesturing to the triplets with a giggle. Every once in a while throughout the song you'd shoot Matt a look or a wink. "You make me wanna make you fall in love. Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah. Wanna try out some freaky positions? Hey Matthew, have you ever tried this one?" You sat on your knees with one arm in the air doing a lasso motion to represent cowgirl. Matt about fell over and Chris was a laughing mess next to him. His brothers could not believe what they were witnessing.

That song ended and the show continued. A few songs later, the triplets and Chris' girlfriend were approached by someone from your team. "Matt?" Your manager asked, "You've all been requested backstage after the show." She smiled handing them all passes and getting back to work.

"No way!" Chris' girlfriend jumped up and down.

"Dude, your charm got us connections!" Nick laughed patting Matt on the shoulder. Matt stood staring at the backstage passes in awe. He couldn't believe that you had noticed him in the first place but also to invite him backstage??

[cyberclouddream]

Your Secret Self in the 12th House

Aries in the 12th House - Taurus Rising

They tend to keep secrets about their inner daredevil. While they play it cool and collected, there’s a wild side itching to burst free—think sneaking off for a spontaneous road trip or trying extreme sports in secret. They might also hide their competitiveness, pretending they don’t care while actually keeping score of who’s winning in life. Plus, they could be harboring some guilty pleasures, like indulging in reckless online shopping binges when no one’s watching.

Taurus in the 12th House - Gemini Rising

They often hide secrets about their love for comfort while secretly fantasizing about radical change. Underneath that cozy facade, they might daydream about ditching their 9-to-5 for a nomadic lifestyle, craving the thrill of the unknown. They could also be keeping a stash of self-care products—think expensive face creams or luxury candles—while downplaying their indulgent side. Additionally, they might harbor feelings of envy toward friends who seem to live carefree, all while maintaining a chill, easy-going persona.

Gemini in the 12th House - Cancer Rising

They tend to keep secrets about their inner chatterbox, often drowning in thoughts they don’t dare voice. Beneath their friendly demeanor, they might be hiding a tendency to overanalyze every interaction, worrying that they’ll be misunderstood. They could also be engaging in secretive communication—like using anonymous accounts to share their opinions or seek validation without risking their reputation. Plus, they may hold back on expressing their true feelings, fearing that doing so will lead to vulnerability that they’re not ready for.

Cancer in the 12th House - Leo Rising

They often hide secrets about their emotional turmoil, presenting a bold front while wrestling with intense feelings. While they come off as confident and social, they might be quietly harboring past heartbreaks or family drama that they don’t want to share. They could also fantasize about a life where they can escape their responsibilities and be free to express their emotions without judgment. Plus, they might keep a hidden stash of sentimental items—like letters or mementos—that remind them of their deeper feelings and past experiences.

Leo in the 12th House - Virgo Rising

They tend to keep secrets about their inner critic, often hiding their doubts behind a confident mask. While they seem to thrive in the spotlight, they might be grappling with imposter syndrome, fearing they don’t deserve the accolades. They could also be secretly nurturing creative dreams that they feel too shy to pursue, fearing they won’t be taken seriously. Plus, they may keep their desire for admiration under wraps, needing validation from others yet afraid to admit it out loud.

Virgo in the 12th House - Libra Rising

They often hide secrets about their perfectionism, presenting a calm demeanor while battling internal chaos. Beneath their organized facade, they might have a tendency to obsess over minor details, worrying that they won’t measure up to expectations. They could also be secretly struggling with feelings of inadequacy, wondering if anyone really sees their worth. Plus, they might hide a stash of self-help materials—books, podcasts, or videos—that they consume in hopes of bettering themselves while keeping their struggles out of sight.

Libra in the 12th House - Scorpio Rising

They tend to keep secrets about their relationship fears, often projecting charm while grappling with deep-rooted insecurities. While they come across as easy-going, they might be wrestling with jealousy or fear of abandonment, not wanting to reveal how much it affects them. They could also be hiding their true opinions about people they love, not wanting to rock the boat. Plus, they may secretly yearn for independence but struggle with the idea of going against their people-pleasing nature.

Scorpio in the 12th House - Sagittarius Rising

They often hide secrets about their emotional intensity, putting on a brave face while feeling deeply vulnerable inside. They might be nurturing secret desires that feel taboo, such as unconventional fantasies or interests that they fear might alienate others. They could also be battling a fear of being truly known, preferring to keep their deeper emotions hidden from view. Plus, they might keep a journal filled with dark thoughts or musings, using it as a safe space to explore what they can’t express out loud.

Sagittarius in the 12th House - Capricorn Rising

They tend to have hidden secrets about their thirst for freedom, often masking it behind a façade of responsibility. While they appear grounded, they might be dreaming of a life filled with adventure and spontaneity, yearning to break free from their daily grind. They could also be keeping their more radical beliefs hidden, fearing that their unconventional ideas won’t be well-received. Plus, they might harbor a fear of commitment that they keep to themselves, worrying that settling down will stifle their free spirit.

Capricorn in the 12th House - Aquarius Rising

They often keep secrets about their vulnerability, appearing stoic while struggling with feelings of inadequacy. Beneath their ambitious exterior, they might harbor a fear of failure that they keep locked away, wanting to project an image of control. They could also be concealing a rebellious streak, secretly longing to break the rules they’ve set for themselves. Plus, they may be hiding a desire for emotional connection, fearing that showing their true selves will weaken their carefully constructed facade.

Aquarius in the 12th House - Pisces Rising

They tend to have hidden secrets about their sense of alienation, projecting an air of confidence while feeling isolated underneath. They might conceal their unique beliefs and perspectives, worried that others won’t understand or accept them. Additionally, they could be struggling with a sense of belonging, hiding their insecurities about friendships despite being surrounded by people. Plus, they might have secret dreams of making a radical change in their lives, wanting to embrace their individuality but unsure of how to do so.

Pisces in the 12th House - Aries Rising

They often keep secrets about their vivid imagination, masking their emotional depth behind a confident persona. While they may project an image of strength, they could be escaping into daydreams or creative pursuits to avoid facing reality. They might be nurturing artistic talents that they fear won’t be recognized, keeping their creations hidden from the world. Plus, they might also be wrestling with feelings of inadequacy, wanting to shine but struggling to believe they can.

[hysteria-things]

hey! love your stories

can you do a story where Matt/chris x Reader have to hide their relationship from EVERYONE (including the internet) but one of them slips up and exposes everything.

if you can make a story like this thank you!!!

EXPOSED

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a tiny slip-up causes the fandom to go a little cray cray.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 505

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you for 1.5k i love you guysss!

“why are you so heavy.” you groan as chris is hugging you, his legs wrapping around your waist.

“that’s harsh,” he says, and you roll your eyes.

you’ve known chris for a while, becoming good friends along the way. what people don’t know, including his brothers, is that you guys are dating.

you don’t want to get bashed online by preteens, and he’s just not ready to reveal it quite yet either.

your best friend laughs, snapping a pic of you guys for fun. the three of you are on a sunset walk on the street, soaking up the outdoors.

“don’t hate me.” she starts, and chris finally lets go. “you guys would make such a cute couple.”

cheeks becoming red, you feel chris’ stare on you. he smirks. “nah. that’ll never happen.”

a few days go by, and yes you’ve seen the tweets, but thankfully the fans don’t believe it. i mean, they already know you guys are close friends. nothing suspicious about that.

today’s different. you wake up from your afternoon nap with your phone blowing up. mention after mention.

QUEEN WE NEED ANSWERS @y/n_l/n

@y/n_l/n and chris??? hello???

no SHOT chris and y/n are dating😭

you pause at the last comment.

‘no shot chris and y/n are dating’

what?

confused as ever, you open up the most reliable source: twitter. twitter knows everything about everyone.

you scroll, seeing hundreds of tweets about you and chris. there’s also a video attached, what seems like a clip from the triplets’ new podcast.

you tap on the video.

nothing exciting happens for the first two seconds, just them yapping about whatever the fuck. then the camera cuts to chris. “yeah, my girlfriend y/n—” he starts, stopping when he notices.

that son of a gun.

matt’s face scrunches. “your girlfriend y/n?”

“i meant my good friend y/n. i was talking too fa—"

“i knew it!” nick exclaims, causing him and chris to get into a bickering match.

the video ends, and a message pops up.

chris &lt;3

i’m outside

you sigh, uncovering yourself from your blanket and heading to the front door. you open it, your boyfriend smiling fake at you. he can’t tell if he’s in trouble or not. “it was an accident.” he says, almost fearful.

your eyes widen, nodding your head along with his rambling. “i wasn’t thinking. my mouth was moving faster than my brain. it came so naturally because you, you know, are my girlfriend. my girlfriend; that i love so much. who i will never betray. who i can never live without. who i—”

“chris, stop,” you say softly. he for sure thinks he’s in trouble, but you honestly don’t care about the tweets and tiktoks. it was a silly slip-up, but in reality, you guys couldn’t hide your relationship forever. “it’s okay. it was bound to happen, honestly.”

“you’re not mad?”

“no.” you giggle, cupping his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

“i love being your good friend y/n.” you say jokingly, chris smiling on your lips.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree

[darnell-la]

just imagine logan as a lone wolf who lives in a cabin in the middle of the forest and maybe the reader is just an ordinary girl (maybe shes a farmer or a gardener) that lives behind the forest and she needs to cross the path along the forest every day to go home, it goes down to rain and she gets lost, and finds logans cabin.

Then she looks at logan for the first time and its just love at first sight.

Well maybe lust, but also love.

note: Logan lives far from civilization in this story, so you can imagine when a young lady, the only person he sees daily, accidentally steps too far into his property wet and dirty. He can’t help but invite her in and pray for the best.

———

Y/n had been running through the woods for what felt like hours, eyes constantly getting rain in them as her shoes soaked. She could barely feel her feet, and her clothes were drenched.

“Oh my god,” y/n said, coming across Mister Howlett’s house, a man she’d never seen but had heard of. One part of her was happy seeing the house, knowing she had gone the right way, but the other half still hurt her head. She has ten or so minutes of running and no walking.

Y/n walked in front of the house, about to pass until an alarm went off, almost scaring her out of her shoes.

Lights flashed on the young lady as she heard rustling coming from inside the house. “Goddamnit,” she cussed under her breath, realizing she had stepped too far into the man’s property. She never does, but it’s raining hard tonight, and she can barely see.

“Who the fuck is on my property!?” A man asked, voice sounding a bit different than an average male. “I-I’m sorry, I-I always walk this way, I just walked a bit too far into the grass. I-It’s raining heavy out here,” she said, loud enough for him to hear her over the rain.

Logan walked past the frame of his front door, revealing the shotgun he had in hand. At first, she was terrified, but her mind instantly forgot about the weapon in his hands as her eyes scanned the rest of his body.

“I see,” the man said, scanning the young lady. He wore thick blue jeans, with a beat-up heavy belt, and his tank top was white and dirty. Y/n on the other hand had an amazing outfit. A fluffy skirt with an uptight crop top.

Of course, all of it was drenched, but the man had seen how good she looked earlier today, like every day. He never gets a good look at her, but the consistency of her going to work or whatever she did every day, seemed to rub Logan the right way.

“C’mon in — Let the weather cool down a bit,” Logan suggested, tone still unfriendly, but she understood she could’ve woken him up. “Oh, uh- Thank you,” she said as she approached his doorstep.

Once the two met eyes, it was almost like everything from then was in slow motion. The way they blinked, how slow they stepped, when he talked, telling her to take her shoes off for him to dry, and when he locked his front door.

“So — What do you do exactly?” Y/n asked as she shifted on his couch to look at him who was at the end of the same couch she was sitting on. He never sits on the long couch, but tonight, he felt like it.

“Chop wood, give to the community, fix up the land, and cook,” he said before taking a sip of the whiskey he had poured and offered her, but she told him she wasn’t a drinker.

“Sounds like a lot of work,” she said, making him chuckle. “Maybe for you, princess,” the man said with a look over his reading glasses before he looked back down at the newspaper he was reading.

“I work hard — Just in other ways,” she smiled. “And what is it you do, Bub?” The man asked, now placing the newspaper down to listen. He was interested. He didn’t know why, but he was.

“I write online books and sell clothes. These! I made myself. Hope I can dry them without it messing up,” she said as she tugged on her clothes. “You made that?” He asked, slightly surprised.

“Mhm hm — Took a while, but I got through,” she smiled. “Maybe I can dry it. I mean, I don’t think the rain’s gonna slow down anytime soon, so you can just stay here until they air dry in my basement,” he offered.

“You can take my bed. It’s clean, and my room has a lock if it makes you uncomfortable that a man’s in the house,”

Y/n stayed silent, thinking to herself. It didn’t seem like too much of a bad idea. She didn’t know the man, but he was a neighbor. She passes his house all the time, and she’s sure he’s seen her before.

“I’ll stay,” she said, making Logan huff out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in. “Let’s head upstairs. It’s late, and I was going to close up down here anyway,”

Logan had shown y/n to his room, telling her she could make herself at home as he pulled out a shirt she could wear to bed.

“When you wake up, I’ll have your clothes in front of the door, alright?” He asked. “Okay, uh- I know I’m asking for a lot now, but is it possible to take a shower?” She asked.

Logan looked at her body, almost forgetting she wasn’t clean. Her legs had mud in them, her skin was wet, and her hair had branches in leaves in them. He had ignored all of that before. He hadn’t cared what she looked like. She looked pretty no matter what.

“Of course,” the man said before he went into his closet to grab a towel. “You can use my bedroom bathroom. It’s clean too,” he said, making sure she didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for this all. I’ll repay you someday,” she looked up at him as he gave her a towel. “You don’t have to. I would never leave a pretty girl in the dark,” y/n giggled at his response, happy she knew he thought she was pretty.

“Hey, Bub, I almost forgot to give you some soap. Those in there are a bit strong smellin, so I’ve got some normal scents for ya,”

Logan knocked on the door bathroom door a few minutes after the had started the shower. “Oh my, thank you!” Y/n said as she hopped out of the tub and slightly opened the door, covering anything that could be seen.

“Of course, princ-“ the man had cut himself off as he looked behind her, seeing her figure in the mirror. “What's wrong?” Y/n asked as she followed his eyes, looking behind him before she let out a scream.

“Oh my god!” The main tried covering herself up as the door slowly opened. Logan wanted to look away, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the younger woman.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Y/n said, covering as much as she could as she looked up at him. “It ain’t like Ian seen a naked woman before, Bub,” Logan said. Y/n let out a sigh, knowing a man who looked like him had definitely seen enough naked women to not feel disgusted or anything by her.

“Okay, okay,” she caught her breath, still covering herself up as Logan stood in the door frame, scanning her body. Her wet skin which wasn’t completely clean yet, made him feel a type of way. She made him feel a type of way, but he wanted to be respectful.

“I’ll leave you to it, princess,” Logan said before he went to turn around, but y/n stopped him. “Wait!” She said. “I-I need the soap,” she spoke low, making him realize he never exchanged it with her.

“Oh, shit- Yeah, yeah,” Logan said as he handed the bottle to the young lady. Y/n grabbed it, pulling at it so she could take a shower and ignore how embarrassed he was, but he kept a grip on the bottle.

He had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted to see what she would do.

“Is something wrong, Mister Howlett?” She asked. He loved the way his name rolled off of her lips. He never thought he’d love his last name more. What was this random girl doing to him?

“Yeah, it’s just- I don’t know,” he said, making her smile slightly. “I-If you wanna join me, you can. You know, to save water?” She suggested, surprising the man. She even surprised herself.

“You sure, Bub?” The man wanted to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming all night. “Yes-“ Before she could finish, the man threw the soap bottle to the side, grabbed the woman by her face, and pulled her into a rough passionate kiss, making sure his tongue slipped right in.

Y/n instantly maimed in his mouth at the aggression. He gave back a groan as he picked her up and placed her on the wooden sink counter.

Logan ripped his white tank top off before pulling his jeans down, revealing the hard-on he had since he saw her outside in the rain.

“Got me so fuckin’ hard, Bub. Don’t know why,” he said, making her giggle. “Maybe because I’m pretty?” She suggested, making him laugh. “That’s definitely one reason, Bub,”

Logan spat on his fingers before wiping the across her cunt which was already leaking. “Fuck,” y/n cussed under her breath as her body hitched.

“Mhm, potty mouth,” she said with a smile before he licked his fingers, tasting the mess he had just wiped across. “Fuck, you taste good,”

Logan put his cock in hand before lining up. When he pushed at her entrance, she instantly tightened around him. “Fuck,” Logan groaned, hands gripping the sides of her ass to pull her into him.

“Oh my god,” y/n cried out as his length buried inside of her completely. “Fuck, yes,” the man huffed out as he rested his head on her shoulder. “Ian gonna last,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed, but she loved it.

“Good — Makes me know you like me back,” she said. The man chuckled against her skin, moving his face until his slips were on her neck. “You gonna take it all?” He asked, kissing along her neck with a few nibbles.

“Yes, Mister Howlett,” she said. “C’mon, Bub — Ian that old,” he chuckled as he moved his hips, slowly thrusting into the woman to take in his good or felt, the way she gripped him.

“I like them old,” she admitted. “Oh, really? Is that why you’re so wet right now? Because you’re working my cock so fuckin’ much,” the man said in her ear, making her whine.

“Yes — Yes, that's why,” she admitted again. “Well luckin’ me,” Logan snapped his hips, getting ready to spill deep into her.

“P-Please cum in me,” she begged as she wrapped her legs around his waist, making sure he knew she really wanted it. She needed it.

“Wasn’t gonna do it any else were, Bub,”

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Reader receives Wandas nudes accidentally

Word count: 780

Marvel Masterlist Wanda Masterlist How They React To Masterlist

  Today has been a really good day for Wanda. She’d nearly gotten the upper hand on Natasha for the first time while training early this morning, had gotten her favorite take out for lunch, then had been able to dress like an absolute bombshell for an undercover mission that she had finished in record timing. So it's really no surprise that she's still riding that adrenaline high even after her post mission shower. 

   Which is likely why she feels so confident upon seeing her body's reflection in the bathroom mirror. Feeling a little adventurous she decides to forgo her pajamas for now and she struts out into her bedroom. She grabs her phone off the top of her nearby dresser before settling herself on the middle of her bed. She's never done anything like this before, but she's seen enough saucy pictures online to know what to do.

   She takes one of her thighs clenched together and a couple of different angles of her breasts before she decides to take one that has her full body in the shot. She raises the phone up and angles it downward, allowing it to capture an aerial view of her kneeling on her bed. Satisfied with how it turned out she makes sure to save it before opening her messages to reply to you. She had to admit she had a huge soft spot for you, so having you check in on her after missions never failed to warm her heart and make her smile.

  After replying she tosses her phone over onto her pillow before getting up to actually put something on. What she hadn’t realized was that she never closed out of her conversation with you, and somehow this gentle toss had hit enough buttons to send her last nude to you

   In the compound's kitchen you squeeze past Sam in order to grab your container of take out from last night that you wanted to reheat. You had been glad to hear that Wanda's mission had gone well and without any problems whatsoever, and you can’t deny the feeling of giddiness that flows through you as you hear another message come through from her

   You pull out your phone and open the message only to be greeted by the shock of a lifetime. The brunette was absolutely bare in the photo and the sight proves to be enough to cause you to panic. You let out a small squeak of surprise as you simultaneously slam the refrigerator door shut and close your messages. You nervously glance over to find Sam, Tony and Natasha all looking at you already, each with an eyebrow raised in question. You nervously give them a nod in form of greeting before promptly exiting the room and making a beeline for a certain witches room. 

   You honestly had no idea if you were even meant to see what you had, for all you knew this was just another, albeit extreme, way she had chosen to tease you as you were certain she had to know by now of your feelings. There was no way you've been able to keep all your thoughts quiet. Not when Wanda was involved.  But regardless of the whys your body seemed to be moving on autopilot to go and get your desired answer, as well as berate the woman for this extreme

   “Wanda!” you shout as your knuckles tap the wood of her door

   Her door opens quickly to reveal her, only now she's dressed in her fuzzy warm pajamas instead of being naked. Which is a relief to you because you're sure you would have keeled over otherwise. You're quick to speak before she can say anything

   “I was in the kitchen Wans! You can’t just send things like that!”

   Confusion clouds her features “I can’t tell you my mission went well?”

   “Don’t play dumb” you plead, “My problem was with your nude not your endearing message”

   You watch her entire face and neck turn pink as her eyes go wide, and it’s only then that you realize this wasn’t some scheme of hers but an actual accident. Which only amuses you. Seems the universe has given you an opportunity to be the one doing the teasing for once

   “My- my nude?” she asks, barely above a whisper

   “Oh, you didn’t send it purposely.” you say with a faux pout. Her breath catches in her throat as she then watches your eyes drink her in as your tongue darts out to wet your lip, “Thats a shame”

    It’s only after you've started to walk away that Wanda's brain begins to function, and she nearly yells after you, “Wait! Y/n!”

Taglist:@wandaromamoff69 @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox @when-wolves-howl @danveration @naomi-m3ndez @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @xchaiix @iaminluvwithnat @lovelyy-moonlight @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories @imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastorm  @zoomdeathknight @rayeofmoonlight @aeroae @sashawalker2 @esposadejoyhuerta @mathxa @reginassweetheart

[brailsthesmolgurl]

"What do you think of my outfit?"

Preview: How will the boys react to you wearing a revealing outfit? (and yes, I figured Sylus should be included too :))

Warning: TEASING, SLIGHT SMEXY SCENES!

SYLUS

"What do I think of that?" He gestured towards your skin tight dress that works really well in accentuating your curves. You, usually wrapped in comfortable and baggy clothes, had managed to go all out and reminding Sylus of the body you had always have under those loose clothings of yours. It is a date night in a fancy restaurant for a fancy event so you thought it was only right to play dress up. You had purchased this dress online as Sylus has been home for the past few days and going out alone would be too suspicious for someone as sharp eyed for him so getting it online is your best option. But, you certainly did not expect the outfit to fit too well, judging by the way your lover's eyes seemed to gleamed a darker shade of amber. "It's befitting for someone like you that's for sure."

When he was asked whether he is more than willing to let you wear more of these outfits in the near future, the man got up from his comfortable lounging seat, setting his gun aside onto the coffee table and he chuckled darkly as he sauntered over to you, pinning you against the wall in the process. "As long as you bear my marks, I am not worried about competition baby." He growled slightly as he leaned down and started groping you through your dress. His touch set off torrents of fire across your body, your undulating breaths quickening by every passing second. Moans of excitement raying from your mouth further edging him on to just rip the dress immediately off of you right this moment.

ZAYNE

Zayne would just sigh when he sees you clad in that skin-tight dress, twirling in front of him in excitement. He would lower his glasses and panned quietly at you, pinching on the slight bump of his nose when he tries to figure out what to tell you. "I would admit that you look good in any outfit. Including what I am seeing now." His compliment does come off to be quite half-arsed as he was not quite happy with the dress not leaving one with much imagination. Given this man would go the lengths of researching on 'how to be nice to the partner', he is not known for voicing out his repines. Hence, instead of being upfront, he would present a snappy remark in return. "But, do not come to me if you end up having a cold."

"If anyone tries to hit on you," the doctor has his slender fingers gripping onto his chin, eyebrows sewn together as he thought of a reaction towards the eidetic scenario. "I will tell them off only if you need me to." You were definitely shocked at his response, partially unsatisfied until he adds on, his confidence coming through immediately. "That's because we both know that, it will only be me that could heal you." He smirked, placing his glasses back onto the table and he turned his chair, now directly facing you. It only took two fingers for him to beckon you over and you became obsequious, prancing towards him and seating yourself onto his thighs. His hand coming to place onto your inner thigh, thumb rubbing softly over your sensitive skin. "Now, let me heal your cold first."

XAVIER

The blond man had blinked multiple times, looking at your outfit, more like staring. If he is in any cartoon shows right now, he would be drooling, with a cloud forming on top of his head, imagining how he could put your body to good use in that tight outfit of yours. It would be a 18+ cartoon for sure at this point. "You look stunning in that dress." His tone sounded...hesitant? He would try to shift his gaze to not make you uncomfortable, but let's be honest, who would not like to be stared at, especially by someone like Xavier? He had never been the type to judge you based on your styles. He finds most of it adorable on you, if not befitting. But this, this tight fitting outfit is fresh territory for him.

"This outfit does not suit you y/n." He does not hesitate one bit when your next question followed, asking him of his opinion what if someone else were to approach you when you are outside wearing this apparel. His answer is avoiding the question, only to mask his jealousy. When you ask for a more valid answer from him, he would simply take off the hoodie he currently has on and tosses it, aimed right at your face so it falls right onto your head. "You should put that on so that the others won't get to you before I do." A slight growl bubbled at the back of his throat when he careened over to you. The next sensation you felt was being pushed up against the wall, ready to be devoured.

RAFAYEL

A pout. The same pout he gives whenever he is frustrated at you. Now, he wears it when he catches sight of you in that bodycon dress. It was gifted to him by one of his sponsors to congratulate him for the announcement of his muse, aka you. He took it with the image of you wearing it but damn, he had never figured that it fit you like a snuck glove. If he was not pouting, he would have been the one drooling over you. But Rafayel, is a man of standards. "The brand seems to dote on you by picking this outfit for you." He then turned around and got onto his phone, pressing his phone against his ear.

You assumed it was Thomas judging by how Rafayel was frowning through his tone. "List out the brand that gave y/n the bodycon dress from now on. They are trying to get my girl stolen from me." Your lips are pressed together tightly when you witnessed Rafayel 'burning the brand deals just for you', all for the sake of covering up his jealousy. "Now, you are only allowed to wear this whenever you are around me alright?" He is quick to walk back over to your side, slipping his arm effortlessly around your waist and planting a chaste kiss to your lips. "Because a shining star like you only deserves a spot next to me."

[ellastone-olsen]

hihihihi idk if youre accepting requests or not but if you are:

can you please do stripper!wanda x innocent!reader where reader's friend drags her to a nearby strip club to blow off steam. and reader is really innocent and is just sitting in the chair, slightly confused while watching the dancers do their thing on the pole. and reader is unknowingly eyeing one certain stripper (wanda) and wanda notices and comes over to reader. and reader's friend is teasing reader and telling wanda to give reader a lap dance when she comes over. and then wanda brings reader to like one of the private rooms in the back and like reader is realy inexperienced and awkward and tense. and then wandas there to like talk reader through it and reader's like REALLLY shy. okay woah thats a lot thank youuuuu take your time 💝

The art of eye contact - Wanda Maximoff

★Pairing: stripper!Wanda Maximoff x innocent!f!reader

Summary: your friend drags you to a strip club, what could happen there to such an innocent little thing like you?

★Warnings: little NSFW 18+, lap dance, grinding, pet names, a little fluff (sorry I can’t without fluff)

★Word count: 1.5k

★AN: hi anon! In general, my requests are closed, but I found this very interesting, so here we are. there was nothing about 18+ in the request and I decided to remove this part (well, almost). hope you’ll like it

The loud music and shining lights of the club were blinding as you sat shyly in your seat and looked somewhere at the floor. There was a can of soda on the table nearby. The people around are mostly men, but your eye notices some women who also came to watch the show. And only one question: what the hell are you doing here?

“Come on Y/N let’s go, I’ve been there more than once, maybe you’ll like it.” This is exactly what you heard from your friend half an hour ago, when you were sitting in her apartment and just playing online games. You came to her in a terrible mood because of a failed college exam and sought solace in this meeting. In the last couple of weeks, your nerves were on edge and all you need now was to let off steam after a series of failures. “Fucking shit, can’t you see they’re shooting at you!?” You told her angrily as she turned away from the laptop screen without following the game. You definitely needed another way to relax.

Despite your 21, you had never been to this kind of establishment and of all your friends, you were the most innocent person, not knowing what relationships and sex are. "Come on, let's go, don't be so boring." She insisted, "If you don't like it, then I give you permission to hit me." You took off your headphones and sighed. If you think so, then you were curious to visit the strip club. "okay." After that, within 10 minutes you were riding in a taxi to an address unknown to you.

Returning to the present time, you tried not to stare too much at all these people dancing at the poles, the clothes on them were becoming less and less every minute and your cheeks were flushed red. Your friend hit you with her elbow, signaling for you to look (she paid for the entrance and doesn’t want her money to disappear into the floor in which you are ready to make a hole with your gaze). You look up again and look at each dancer in turn until you reach her. To your right is dancing a woman with long red hair, which is pulled back into a messy bun with a shiny clip. Her top was already off, revealing a red fabric bra that did not hide the softness of her breasts. She was still wearing a long skirt that cut out to her hips, so you could see her legs, which seemed to be moving closer to you. Stop why is she coming to you.

While you watched as if under hypnosis, the stranger was already in front of you and grabbed the soda from your hand and put it on the table to put her hands on either side of you on the armrests. Her back arched and she made a small wave, so that her breasts were a few centimeters from your face, it seemed like you were ready to explode from what was happening. Her head tilted, her lips reached your ear so she could shout to you over the noise of the music, “I’m Wanda, nice to meet you.” In your opinion, people usually don’t get to know each other by sticking their almost bare breasts under the noses of strangers, but remember where you were and toss all the questions. In any case, all you did was nod and again direct your gaze somewhere to the side. It seemed that you had turned into a bundle of nerves and embarrassment.

Wanda took this as a sign that she needed to look for another client for the night, but your friend, who had been watching all this time from the side, took the redhead somewhere to the side and seemed to give her a bill and instructions on what to do.

"Where have you been?" You asked the girl as she approached with a sly grin, noticing how red you were. Why the hell did she bring you here and leave you to your fate? “I have another little gift for you that you’ve been eyeing so eagerly.” Was she teasing you? Defined. “What are you talking about, what kind of gift am I thinking enough for today.” Then your friend stepped aside and showed Wanda standing behind her. The girl leaned over so only you could hear, “I paid, so have fun.” You didn’t immediately understand what exactly she paid for, but Wanda’s sweet smile brought the idea to your brain and your eyes widened.

The redhead gently took your hand in hers and you obeyed (only out of curiosity) and followed her into the private rooms. When the red matte door closed and it became much quieter, you sat on the sofa with your hands on your knees and asked a question. “What exactly she told to do?” One of your knees is bouncing from the fact that you are shaking your leg trying not to be nervous. Your friend has already explained to the redhead what an innocent little thing you are, so the woman decided to first ask permission for some actions.

"She ordered a lap dance, but you're such a sweet girl that I was willing to do it for free just for you." She came up to you again and leaned in, so close that her breath was on your neck and you could smell the scent of her cherry perfume. “Can I sit on your lap honey?” Her soft sexy whisper drove you crazy and you squeaked in agreement. Immediately you felt the weight of her body on you, how her long legs in stockings wrapped around you and your core began to pulsate just from this. "What should I do? I…I never…” Wanda’s hips rocked and her core pressed against your stomach. “Oh I know baby, I can see it right away.” She giggled. “I’m sitting right on top of you, can you tell me your name?” Your head fell back and your hair fell into face, you really didn’t want to seem like what you were, namely the inexperienced mess right under her. “My name is Y/N.” Your hands grabbed the upholstery of the sofa, you didn’t know how to touch her, or whether it was possible at all.

Wanda's hands dropped to yours and placed them on her hips. “That’s it Y/N, you can touch me if you want.” Your head turned towards her and you finally looked into her big green eyes. It was so beautiful that no part of her body interested you as much as this. “Your eyes are so…lovely.” The woman seemed confused at these words. Her clients told her a lot, in particular something about her breasts or ass, but never before had anyone given her a compliment with such trepidation. “Oh, what a cute little thing you are Y/N.” She stood up on your knees, her hands reached for the clasp of her skirt, which she was still wearing, but you stopped her. “No, don't. I mean, you're so beautiful, you don't need to take your clothes off to prove it."

This was the third time you had confused her that night. Of course, your inexperience spoke to you, but you also didn’t want to do something so blatant with her, at least not right now. Although perhaps there was one thing that you wanted to get. “I...can you kiss me? That is, if you don’t want to or it’s forbidden, I don’t insist, but...” Her soft, full lips fell on yours without allowing you to finish, it seems that at these words the woman’s heart sank painfully. Her dark lipstick mixed with your cherry gloss and with every movement of your lips, your hands gripped her soft thighs tighter. “Wanda...” You wanted to ask, but she wasn’t done with you. When there was not enough air, she pulled away and turned her head away. “Sorry, it was not according to regulations.” You didn't understand why she was apologizing.

“No, no, everything is fine, at least... it sounds so stupid but... maybe you would like to get to know each other better and go on a date, for example?” You realized how naive it sounded, asking the girl from the strip club you had just met on a date. Surely everyone who was with her in this room made her such an offer.

Instead of words, the woman got up from you and you thought that the time that your friend had paid for was over, but after a few seconds she handed you a piece of paper with numbers. “Here, this is my number, text me in the morning if you don’t change your mind.” You took the small piece of paper from her hands and carefully placed it under your phone case.

For a minute you were in an awkward ringing silence. “Can I kiss you again?” You asked shyly. Even then, Wanda couldn’t refuse you.

When you left the private room and said goodbye, your friend immediately met you with questions about how everything went. You told her, not knowing that in this evening Wanda did not bring anyone else into the room where you were together.

[aweina]

ᰔ. wrong package : mike schmidt — suggestive warning !! + ft. secondhand embarrassment.

next door neighbor mike who randomly appears in front of your doorstep, an unusual flushed look in his tired features. neither of you have been formally acquainted, if you don’t count the forced awkward exchanges when getting the mail outside.

although, mike was good looking despite his unkempt demeanor — the remnant memories of his stiff politeness and husk voice had you fawning over him for as long as you were made aware of his presence. but it seems like he’d rather get to work or rest at home than getting to know any of his neighbors.

but now, he stands in front of you shifting one foot over the other — his wavering eyes settling onto the torn box in his grasp rather than your face. there was a bob to his throat, swallowing down on his thickening saliva in anticipation.

“uh sorry to bother you, but i’ve actually gotten your package on accident and ummm … i opened it.” his fumbling words shot through his lips like he’s in a rush, but you still manage to make his statement coherent.

he directs your curious eyes over the beaten package and immediately, your polite smile turned into a silent scream. the rabbit vibrator that you ordered online was hastily covered in some old newspaper — what mike probably did beforehand out respect of your already invaded privacy. the hot pink color and obnoxious packaging taunting you. your name was bold and printed on the delivery sticker, sparing you no excuses for your erotic purchase.

your dilated pupils and now flushed complexion made mike feel apologetic, yet somewhat amused. his encounters with you were a rarity, but he made sure to remember those moments. like when you would focus on reading the mail beside the shared mailbox, the way your face looked so cute carefully squinting and mumbling each word. or even that time you mistaken his sister as his daughter, the same dust of pink settled onto your cheeks like it did now.

mike formed an impression that you’re put together and tooth achingly innocent, but after accidentally opening your package — his superficial thoughts about you has gone down south and into the depths of a more lustrous head space.

how would you look like using it? what would you sound like? crude and carnal ideas spilling over the mental image of your face, his senses clouded with this new epiphany.

he carefully hovers his hand over yours and guides them with a phantom touch, placing the package gently in your stiffened grasp. the furrow in your brows and lack of response made him worried you might pass out — but then you began to sputter a shy “thank you”, your quivering eyes never meeting his. it was a nice look, he couldn’t deny it.

“i won’t tell, promise.” his previous nervous manner completely melted away as he teases you for a bit, his pointer finger pressed against his friendly smile — like it could somehow permanently seal his lips from exposing your status on your sex life.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak — not when you heart feels like it’s about to explode while your body temperature is fighting between haunting chills or overwhelming heat. the gaze in his eyes was much more darker and relaxed than before. weirdly enough, you trust him like you’ve known him your whole life. mike gives you a friendly farewell before he makes his way back into his house.

slowly shutting the door with a solid click, you immediately pathetically fall to your knees and shriek in absolute horror — the box crashing down with you and revealing the one thing that made this rare exchange so humiliating, embarrassment settling so thick in your core. your hot neighbor knowing you’re sexually active? currently getting off to a dingy sex toy? you cannot go back outside again, not if you’re going to possibly see him. hell, you cannot even use the toy without thinking of mike. it’s like he cursed it with some spell, the whispers of his name draw closer each passing second whenever you gaze at the toy.

his ears perk at the bloodcurdling scream that pierced through your closed windows — one so loud and dramatic, it sounded like an active crime scene. he couldn’t help but helplessly laugh into his baggy sleeves, prickles of tears in the corners of his eyes. it’s been awhile since he’s laughed like that, it was needed. returning back home felt less eventful, your embarrassment still making him chuckle under his breath and somewhat eager to see it on you again.

of course, there’s no shame of getting yourself off, but if you needed a helping hand — mike would gladly come over and do his due diligence to be the perfect neighbor. with his new image of you carved into his mind and colorful second impression of you, maybe it’s time for him to make a more formal introduction of himself, once you actually start recovering from your eternal embarrassment.

[twilightkitkat]

Revised fanfic inspired by this post about how our universe's X-men (assuming they were alive) would react to Logan returning from the dead.

---

The world at large moved on from The Wolverine's resurrection shockingly fast.

Of course, people were excited to see their childhood hero return, but with all that's happened in the past decade in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, it's far from the craziest thing to happen. An entire half of the world's population disappeared and reappeared with the flick of a finger—one man coming back to life wasn't the biggest call for concern.

With his initial reemergence, people questioned whether or not he would rejoin his old teammates in the X-men. Now that they were back together, it was only natural for The Wolverine to take his rightful spot.

But, contrary to this speculation, he made no move to rejoin the X-men. In fact, he seemed to avoid contact with them at all. When it became clear that he wasn't returning to the hero scene or the spotlight any time soon, the media attention fizzled out.

Logan was grateful. The last thing he wanted was to constantly be hounded and compared to the hero he couldn't be in his universe. He'd finally come to terms with his past and was content to spend the rest of his life peacefully with Wade (well, as peaceful as it could be when you kill for income).

But while the media let it go, the X-men didn't.

They had been initially shocked and confused when they heard that Logan was back from the dead. They'd brush it off as a false rumor if not for the fact that were eerily realistic photos of him online. He looked so similar and yet so different from the Logan they knew. He was older and had wrinkles where he hadn't before, but he undoubtedly looked like their Logan.

But this opened up a whole new can of worms. Charles had searched using Cerebro and found he was gone for good, and everyone had already mourned him. Was someone impersonating him? Was there a villain? (If so, how dare they?)

The X-men were in a slightly manic state until Colossus returned and explained that this Wolverine was from another universe. The other X-men questioned how he knew, and he reluctantly revealed that Deadpool (the insane mercenary that Colossus was somehow friends with) had brought him to their timeline on a mission to save it from collapse.

...It was a lot to take in. But after getting over the shock of the impossibility, they were relieved. Lord knows it was difficult to manage all the kids and protect the mansion, it would be nice to have him back.

And so they waited for Logan to come to them. To return to the mansion. He had been part of the X-men in his own world from what Colossus had told them, and while he hadn't elaborated too deeply they'd surmised that they were no longer around. It was a perfect fit: the X-men who lost their Wolverine and the Wolverine who lost his X-men.

But he never did. At first, they chalk it up to him going on a solo trip. He liked to run off from time to time—to brave the wilderness or disappear on a personal unspecified mission. When asked, he'd said it helped clear his mind. It made sense. He never really stayed in one place for too long.

After all, it was his personality. He was a Lone Wolf. Logan was the type to get antsy if he felt like he was being tied down. He wasn't the type to like commitment and wanted to be free from the shackles of other people.

The X-men had accepted this as fact, never pushing further. Why would they? If Logan wanted to stay, he would. He was self-assured enough to realize he could come and go whenever he wanted. Nobody was stopping him. (Nobody was telling him that they wanted him there, anyway. No point.)

But then a month passed. And then two. And Logan didn't show any indication that he would be coming back. Or reaching out to them.

And even if he was the type to do his own thing, this was a little ridiculous. He'd just come back to life and didn't even bother showing up to let them know what he was doing?

This Logan couldn't be all that different from theirs if they'd had near-identical origins. Even if he kept up his guard and acted gruffly, he only really had them. They were like a family. They took him in and fed him and clothed him and he showed up to help when shit went sideways in return. A perfect, neat, package with a bow on top.

(Because that's what family is, isn't it? People who provide for your physical needs. People who protect you when you're on the battlefield. What else was there?)

The anticipation was killing them.

And so they staged a confrontation with Colossus one day. They interrogated him about Logan's whereabouts. Prodded him about his well-being and what he was doing. Why he wasn't reaching out and when they should expect him to come back.

His answer shocked them.

Apparently, Logan wasn't out on a mission at all. He wasn't just on a temporary retreat and planning to return.

Instead, he was staying with Deadpool at his apartment and just... living there. Living the same menial, day-to-day life as any other civilian (aside from the contract killing). Apparently, he didn't show any interest at all in returning to his old life or taking up the helm of an X-man again.

(It was hard wrap their heads around. When Jean asked what he spent his days doing, Colossus responded that Logan had gotten into cooking. That he was experimenting with different recipes to see which ones Wade liked and that recently, he'd been learning to make alfredo pasta from scratch.

...Logan? The same Logan whose only hobby was stealing Scott's motorcycle and pissing him off? Who spent his free time smoking and drinking when he wasn't fighting? That same Logan, learning to cook? Living a quiet, domestic life?

That couldn't be right.)

He wasn't even particularly busy, he just hadn't visited. When they inquired further, Colossus smiled slightly and said that he seemed happy there. Content. That Wade was good for Logan and Logan was good for him, too.

It was... nearly impossible to imagine. Logan—fierce, closed-off, restless—just staying in one place? Content to just live with someone, help with chores around the house, and accompany them on mercenary jobs.

Speaking of mercenary jobs, since when did Logan prefer teamwork? He always tried to turn joint missions into solo ones, and went out of his way to brush people off. And yet Colossus told them about how Logan always insisted on accompanying Wade like it was his duty, how their fighting styles were perfectly synchronized, and how he used their teamwork as an example to teach his trainees.

More than that—Logan, a mercenary? He'd rather pick up illegal work for some extra cash than return to being a hero? To being with them? Why did he decide to stay in a shitty one-bedroom apartment with a mercenary instead of returning to their mansion?

What even was his relationship with Wade? They'd only met him once, indirectly, when he came to the mansion to recover after he'd apparently tried to blow himself up. Even through the walls, it was hard to drown out his incessant chatter.

He was erratic and loud and annoying. He was the complete opposite of Logan, but in a completely different way than Scott was. And Logan hated Scott, who acted calm and collected where he was short-tempered and rowdy. They had an infamous rivalry because of the drastic differences in their personality.

So what about Deadpool, who never took anything seriously and was a pain in the ass, made Logan agree to be his roommate? Especially when he had other options. When Logan was notorious for hating people who were "annoying" and picking fights with those whose personalities fundamentally clashed with his.

They only discovered the answer to this question when Laura hosted her 19th birthday party at the X-mansion.

Laura was an interesting case. They'd taken her in after she'd sought refuge in their universe, but she was always reserved. She made friends among the other teenagers and kids at the X-mansion, but often avoided the older X-men.

They were curious about her, considering her connection to Logan, but didn't have an excuse to push further when her control over her mutation was sound. It was also difficult to get close to her when she seemed outright hostile to some of them, particularly Jean and Scott.

When Jean first introduced herself to Laura, Laura glared at her warily. And when Scott had offered a handshake, she'd eyed it suspiciously and turned away. (The apple didn't fall from the tree with this one. It brought up a wave of nostalgia for him.)

But despite this, she was still a part of X-mansion, and so they hosted a party just like they did for the other children. It was just standard practice.

Except for the fact that the Wolverine was coming.

When the X-men had asked who to expect for her party so that they could create a guest list, she'd mentioned offhandedly that both Logan and Wade were going to show up.

It caused them to do a double-take and ask her if she meant Logan as in Logan. She'd raised an eyebrow and asked, "Who else would it be?" as if it were natural that he'd be there.

(When she left, they'd cornered Colossus to bombard him with questions. Was Laura in touch with Logan this entire time, and they didn't know? How did she send him an invitation?

He merely responded that he knew she visited their apartment sometimes, but that it wasn't his business. He saw her every few weeks when Wade had his friends (or "found family" as he called it) over for dinner, but didn't pry further.)

The X-men were hurt. And confused. And angry.

Why was the first time they saw Logan at a birthday party for someone else? Were they not enough reason to visit? They'd taken him and showed him kindness in spite of his... difficult personality. Didn't he at least owe them that much?

He was acting like they were strangers.

They let their questions and emotions fester until the moment of truth finally arrived.

And Logan came, just like Laura said he would. But they barely recognized him, from how differently he looked.

There was something so fundamentally different about the way he held himself. His posture had changed, shoulders drooping instead of perpetually tensed.

He looked... relaxed, for the first time in as long as they could remember. He didn't look hostile or cagey. His expression was open and he stretched with the same lazy, self-satisfied demeanor of a cat.

He looked like a man content with life instead of the one they knew who ran away the first chance he got. He looked like a man who would settle down and start a family instead of the man who always had an itch under his skin to move and never stayed too long.

It was difficult to take their eyes off him. To look away from the glaringly obvious image of how he'd changed. He looked different than he did even in the pictures that had leaked when he'd first come to this world.

(Back then, he'd at least been recognizable. Had some semblance of the Logan they knew. Had the same eyes and clench in his jaw and furrow in his eyebrows.

But now he looked like a man reborn. Like he'd been given a second wind to life, a passion for something other than violence. Had he ever looked like this, back then?)

They wanted to approach him, but it was difficult when he stuck to Wade like glue. They were always touching, somehow. An arm around the shoulders, a hand placed firmly on Wade's waist, fingers intertwined, legs pressed together. Logan was touchy—affectionate, even—in a way he never was with them. (In a way they never thought was possible.)

The way he looked at Wade was like he hung the stars and the moon and the sky itself.

They tried to catch his eye from across the room, but he didn't pay attention. His eyes were firmly locked on Wade's face, a warmth there (a softness) that they'd never seen before. (Was their Logan capable of making such an expression?)

Wade gawked at the mansion and its decoration as he entered, holding Logan's hand. He darted around the party, flitting between Colossus and Negasonic, and Yukio. Then he moved to the buffet table, gleefully grabbing some of the food like a little kid.

And Logan stayed by his side the whole time, only watching him, murmuring something too quiet to decipher in his ear occasionally. Wade responded by jabbing him in the elbow while he tried (and failed) to suppress a cackle.

(And Logan let him. He didn't even retaliate aside from a grunt when Wade punched him in the arm, rolling his eyes and flicking his forehead in return but entirely content to let Wade at him.

The trust there was so obvious it was painful. The familiarity. The warmth. Was this what a family looked like?)

The first time Logan took his eyes off Wade was when Laura came up to greet them. His eyes softened as he looked at her, almost imperceptibly if not for the fact that in their memories, his eyes were always hard. Guarded.

(Jaded in the way that losing your memories and fleeing from a lab only to spend years facing discrimination and hate would do. Jaded in the same way as a dog who feared humans because it'd been hurt by them. Jaded in the same way as an animal who only knew pain and never had a safe place to return to.)

They could count on one hand the number of times they saw even a semblance of the fondness that expression held. And even then, Logan's occasional gruff kindness was reserved for Jean or Rogue.

They watched Laura hug him, grinning as she prattled on about what she'd been doing lately. Logan hugged her back, arms coming to wrap firmly around her. Easy affection. (Easy, but unprecedented.)

She pulled back and Wade hugged her too, spinning her around in the air as she laughed and hit him and asked him to put her down.

When Logan looked at them, the fondness was so obvious it was painful. They were used to seeing Logan show emotion—anger, sadness, fear, arousal. But never softness. (Especially not for a tumor-ridden mercenary and an experiment built off of his DNA.)

The party continues like that, with Logan leaning against Wade and basking in his presence. Hiding in his shadow when he's tired, pressing his forehead against Wade's shoulder.

Until they finally decide to approach them. Scott and Jean held hands as they approached him for the first time, tired of observing him all night. Storm followed closely behind. (Rogue watched from the sidelines, a quiet resignation in her eyes.)

"Logan, nice seeing you man. It's been a while," Scott smiled crookedly at him. He expected Logan to respond how he always did. To grin back, insult him, and start up their typical banter.

Like a well-oiled machine, they kept their rivalry going. Logan and Scott would act like they hated each other in public and fight like children over Jean until she inevitably chose Scott (and then it'd repeat). Sometimes, under the veil of the night, they'd become more. But that was rare, and Scott preferred the comfortable rhythm they normally kept to.

(It was easy. Predictable. Scott didn't have to give anything up for Logan. He could keep his image, keep his life, and still have Logan when he wanted. And then, when he was done, he could keep going as if it never happened. No strings attached.)

But Logan barely looked at him (and was that a look of caution in his eyes?) and nodded, then turned back to Wade as he talked about some kid's show and its "artistic ingenuity."

"Logan, that was a little rude, don't you think?" Jean lightly scolded him. "You got here over a month ago, and we haven't heard from you at all. The least you could do is let us know you're alive."

Scott tightened his arm around Jean. He knew what would come next. Even if Logan was ignoring him, he'd never miss out on a chance to flirt with his girlfriend and rub it in his face.

He knew Jean would always choose him, in the end, but it was annoying to see Logan hit on her. She'd entertain him enough to keep him interested, and occasionally the three would wind up in bed together in a moment of passion. But Jean was his, in the end.

(It was easy. To delegate Logan to the role of a quick fuck. To never really deign him with the courtesy of a lover but still get the benefits. Scott always felt a rush of power when Logan was beneath him. It was like winning a trophy against your rival. Like achieving a conquest—taming the untameable beast.)

Except, Logan didn't react. He just grunted in response. When his eyes met Jean's, they were completely devoid of any emotion. The fire that one burned in his eyes for her was reduced to nothing. Not even a spark or an ember was left. It was like felt nothing for her.

That couldn't be the case, could it? Logan wouldn't move on that quickly. Even if it had been years in his world, he'd always like Jean. He always had before. It was the status quo: Logan always yearned for Jean, who he couldn't have. Jean and Scott were in love, but they occasionally deigned Logan with enough breadcrumbs to keep him on their trail.

And yet Logan didn't even look at her. His eyes were solely on Wade. He didn't flirt with Jean or banter with Scott. It was as if he'd disengaged entirely.

It was only when Wade's eyes flicked toward them and he waved that Logan bothered to acknowledge their existence.

"Oh, hey! You guys are the real deal! The original X-men! The ones that took the 2000s by storm and made Marvel a shit ton of money," Wade grinned at them as he spoke, and the craters on his face stretched and twisted. Jean averted her eyes.

Logan snorted. "Did you not expect to see the X-men in the X-mansion, bub?" It was the first time he verbally acknowledged their existence, but it didn't feel that way. He spoke like they weren't there right in front of him. Like he was only entertaining Wade's train of thought, nothing more or less.

"Considering the budget on my previous movies? Fuck no. It was too expensive to even have a good cameo, let alone actually have them on screen for more than a minute to have a conversation."

Jean and Scott shared bewildered glances. They both wondered what the hell he was talking about. They'd heard rumors of Deadpool being... odd, to put it lightly, but they didn't expect him to act this way in their mansion. He spoke like he was making an inside joke nobody here was privy to, almost as if he was making a reference for an invisible audience. He sounded insane (and definitely not somebody that Logan would willingly live with).

But Logan laughed, genuinely, and it was like the world stopped spinning for a moment. He smiled and his eyes wrinkled, forming crescents.

"No wonder you got a shitty budget. You can barely keep it together as is, let alone in a mansion with children. I doubt you'd fit in with a bunch of kids at a boarding school," he snickered at Wade, but it was light-hearted. It reminded the pair of how he used to act around Scott, before everything.

"My movies are rated R for everyone! And besides, we're not even in the MCU right now. In fanfiction, anything goes. I can talk to the X-men as I damn well please."

Scott coughed awkwardly into his hand.

"Oh, sorry, got a little caught up there. You know how it is. You must be Jean and Scott, nice to meet you," Wade stuck out his hand. Jean hesitated for a moment, suspiciously eyeing the scarred flesh, then reluctantly shook it.

"Deadpool," Scott greeted. His voice was a carefully crafted mask of cool indifference.

Jean smiled tightly. "We've heard a lot about you." It was true. In their search for information about Logan, they found out that he and Logan were partners of some sort. Anyone who had an encounter with The Wolverine naturally also encountered Deadpool. They always did jobs together, and there seemed to be a common understanding among the underground that they were a package deal. It was jarring to hear, to say the least.

"Good things, I'm sure. Who could ever have a complaint about me?" Wade cut into a piece of cake with his shitty plastic fork and took a bite, chewing obnoxiously.

"Johnny Storm would be one," Logan replied.

"You never let go of shit, do you? For the last fucking time, I only told the truth. It isn't my fault he decided to go and shit-talk Cassandra the Almighty. As a concerned citizen, I had an obligation to report treason to the authorities."

"And here I thought you weren't Truthful Timmy, the Blowjob Queen of Saskatoon." Logan leveled Wade with an unimpressed stare, which soon devolved into low laughter as Wade cursed him out.

Jean and Scott stared stiffly at the scene. It was uncomfortable to watch. It felt like someone took Logan, their Logan, and distorted him into a barely recognizable reflection of himself. Their Logan was an asshole with his sense of humor, too. He made sarcastic quips and dark jokes without batting an eye. But he never acted so light around them. He never laughed so freely, like it was as easy as breathing. When he did chuckle, it was low and restrained. Not the uncontrolled, wild, and genuine laughter he had around Wade.

But Jean wouldn't let herself get distracted. Even if Logan was different, he was still like their Logan. He still had a spot reserved for him on the team.

"Logan, can I talk to you for a second?" Jean interrupted. When he made no move to leave, she added, "Alone, please."

Logan's posture shifted, almost imperceptibly. His eyes hardened again, and his mouth pressed into a line. He straightened his spine and leveled her with a steady, calculating look. It was the first time he had really looked at her all night, and yet it made her skin crawl. It was like he was sizing her up, as if she were an enemy or unwanted annoyance.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Anything you need to say to me, you can say with Wade here."

"C'mon man, don't be like that," Scott tried to diffuse the tension, sensing something amiss. "We just want to catch up. Jean worried about you, you know."

It was at that moment Storm arrived. She'd been lurking on the sidelines, waiting for her chance to interject. "Logan, Scott's right. Jean's been worried about you. We all have. It wasn't the same without you here."

Logan's hands slipped into his pockets, but nobody missed the way they clenched into fists. His shoulders rose tensely, and his expression turned guarded. The soft look in his eyes faded into one of wariness.

"Woah woah woah, what is this, middle school? Don't schools teach you all about boundaries these days? Peer pressure isn't cool, say no to drugs," Wade interjected. His smile looked forced, pulled too tightly around the edges. His eyes flitted to Logan, who looked at him with an exhausted type of gratitude.

Jean sighed, centering herself. She needed to stay calm if she wanted to reach out to him. Getting worked up wouldn't help anything. "That's okay, we'll just talk to you here."

Scott scoffed next to her. "What, afraid to speak to us in private?"

Logan stared at him blankly. "No, I just don't want to." He didn't rise to the challenge for once. He looked the bait dead in the eyes and walked past it.

Scott inhaled sharply next to her. Logan never turned down a chance to fight. He'd grin at him, canines showing, and charge in. He got a feral thrill from fighting, from blowing off steam.

He'd told Scott that once, when they were alone together. It was after a sparring session, and they were both sweaty and exhausted, collapsed next to each other. Logan had grinned at him, sweat dripping down his forehead, and told him that fighting was the only time he allowed himself to just let go. His eyes were shining and his hair was damp and his tank top was soaked in his own sweat. He was rugged and handsome and disheveled. Scott had pinned him down and taken him right there.

(In the aftermath, Scott had hurridly zipped up his pants and adjusted his clothing. When he looked halfway presentable, he went to leave. Logan had grabbed onto the leg of his pant, still heaving for air.

"Can't stay for long?" he'd hoarsely asked. His eyes were burning, bright, passionate. His tongue darted out to lick his lips self-consciously. His voice was laced with an undercurrent of urgency. Of desperation. Of hope.

"No, I just don't want to.")

"Logan..." Jean trailed off, unsure of how to start. "I just wanted to ask you how you were doing." An olive branch.

"Fine." His voice was clipped and blunt. No room for argument or extrapolation. He snapped the branch in half.

"Alright, what the hell is your problem?" Storm asked. "We haven't heard from you since you fucking resurrected and now you're acting like a moody teenager when we ask how you're doing?"

"Hey, don't talk to him like that," Wade snapped. It was like a switch had flipped. He went from cheerful and obnoxious to serious the second they insulted Logan.

"No, he needs to fucking hear it. He can brood another time. Logan, we're your friends. You can't just walk away and ignore us anytime you want." Storm crossed her arms, glaring at him like she would a particularly unruly child.

Wade began, "You—"

"Since when were we friends?"

"...What?" Storm looked at Logan incredulously, like she couldn't believe what she just heard. "What did you say?"

"I said, since when were we friends?" His voice was harsher this time, enunciating each word as if it would help them understand.

"Logan, you can't seriously think that, right?" Jean looked at him, concerned.

"So what if I do?"

"Logan," Scott spoke firmly, deciding to rejoin the conversation. "Just because you're upset doesn't mean you can say that. You just hurt Jean's feelings."

Logan snorted. "Yeah, well I'm so sorry Jean's feelings are hurt. What a travesty."

"Alright Logan, what the fuck?" Storm interrupted. "We come here to find out how you've been and all you do is treat us with hostility. All you're going to do is create tension in the mansion for no reason."

"What the hell does the mansion have to do with me?" He glowered at her.

"What do you mean what does it have to do with you? When you come back acting pissy, all of the children will be affected too. They might be used to you and Scott fighting, but you can't pick a fight with everyone here." She glared back.

"...What do you mean, 'come back?'" He spoke to her like she was a child, unable to comprehend a basic lesson. Like she was stupid for even insinuating he'd return.

"When you return to the mansion, she means," Jean added.

Wade raised his nonexistent eyebrows. "Since when was Logan coming back to the mansion? Is Marvel doing a family reunion arc? Although that'd definitely make some money off of nostalgia, it kinda goes against the whole theme of that Logan is different from the old one. Gotta keep them separate to pay homage to his legacy and all that shit."

"What he means is that I never said I was coming back, and in case you need it spelled out for you, I don't plan to." Logan slung an arm around Wade's shoulders and squeezed him protectively.

"...What?" Scott murmured, staring at Logan blankly.

"Logan, you don't really mean that," Jean stated calmly, as if she were placating a wild animal.

"Yes I fucking do," he retorted.

"After all we've done for you, you're going to turn your back on us like this? We took you in and treated you like you were one of us and now you're just going to abandon us because you want to take the easy way out?" Storm pointed a finger at him accusingly.

Logan looked irritated now. He was flexing his knuckles, as if he were prepared to unsheathe his claws at any moment. His eyebrows were furrowed and a deep frown was etched onto his face.

"You don't get to fucking say that," he growled.

"What?"

"You don't get to fucking say that. To talk as if I'm the crazy one for wanting to leave."

"Yeah, well maybe if—"

"No. You don't get to talk. You've had your turn. You all always had your turn first." He glared sweepingly at all of them, teeth grinding together. "Firstly, I don't owe you shit. I'm not even the Logan you took in to begin with."

"But—"

"Secondly, stop fucking talking to me like I'm a toddler. I know what I want, and it isn't to go back to the X-mansion. If I'm so free to come and go as I please, then let me go. Forever."

"Logan—"

"Thirdly, stop acting all high and mighty. Yeah, you fed and clothed me, like any reasonable refuge shelter would. Big fucking deal. I already paid off that debt when I saved this place from getting destroyed countless times."

"You—"

"And finally, stop. Just stop. I just—look. I'm done. I'm done. Nothing you say will change that. So just give up and stop wasting both of our time."

Silence fell across the X-men in front of him. They stared at him blankly, uncomprehending.

Finally, someone broke the silence. "...But Logan, you love me," Jean murmured.

"I did, once. And look where that got me." He glared at her, now, for the first time. It made her distinctly uncomfortable. It made her want to hide.

"Logan, you couldn't possibly mean that," Scott tried to reach him.

Logan's razor-sharp glare turned to him instead. "You were just as bad. You two loved stringing me on. Giving me just enough hope to stay interested. So I'd keep being your little fucktoy. I'm done."

Storm's eyes widened. "Logan, what do you mean by that?"

"Like you all didn't know. Everyone fucking knew that I was passed around like a blunt, it just didn't bother you all. Because it's fine if it's me. 'If Logan suffers, the rest of us can have it a little easier. He can take it, can't he?'" Logan's voice turned shrill and mocking.

"Logan, you know that's not what we—"

"Yes, it was. You meant it. Because if you actually saw me as family, you'd treat me like one. But you had years to and you never did. So don't start now. Not with a replacement Logan that isn't even your own." His eyes hardened, chest heaving. And yet, underneath the tenseness, there was relief. His emotions had been pent up for so long that it felt cathartic to finally release them all in one glorious shitshow of a conversation.

"I won't interfere with your lives, so stop interfering with mine." And then he spun around on his heel and walked away. He left them behind.

They stood there, frozen. They were so shell-shocked that they forgot to breathe, to move, to speak. Until Jean snapped out of it and made an aborted attempt to shout after him, "Logan—"

A hand clamped over her mouth. "Woah there buster, slow your roll." Wade stared at her like she was insignificant. A nuisance. It was almost poetic—the irony of being looked down upon by someone she looked down on herself—if it wasn't so sad.

"Get your hands off her," Scott snarled, yanking her back. She fell against his chest and grabbed his hand for support.

"My bad. I'll keep my paws off your girl if you keep yours off mine," Wade raised his hands in the air nonchalantly.

"...What do you mean, 'your girl?'" Storm warily asked.

"Wolvie, of course. Well, technically a guy, but you get the gist. Besides, he practically fits the vibes with the kitty cat ears."

"...Logan?" Scott questioned.

"Yeah, he's mine. Official title and all. I know you guys had a fling back in the day, but I'm the real deal. I'm the one who wifed him up. So I'd appreciate it if you left him alone so we can keep living out our days in ooey gooey domestic bliss," Wade sighed dreamily at the last part.

"...What?" Jean murmured. She knew Logan sometimes slept around, but with Wade of all people? It would explain why Logan was staying at his apartment, but it still left so many questions unanswered.

(Why wasn't Logan looking at her? Or hell, even Scott? Any of them? Why had his eyes been transfixed to Wade like he was the only person in the world worth watching? If they were dating, then that explains the clingy behavior to some extent, but... was Logan really capable of that? She could remember Logan being aroused, flirty, romantic, even—but never soft. Not like how he looked at Wade.)

"You heard it," he whistled. Like it was just a game to him. (Maybe it was.)

"There's no way Logan would—"

"—Wade!" Logan called. "C'mon, bub, they're going to start opening presents soon. Ours is the first in line!"

"Coming, babygirl!" Wade shouted back. "Well, duty calls," he blew them an exaggerated kiss before skipping off like a schoolgirl.

Wade sidled up to Logan when he got close, hooking arms with him and leaning his head on his shoulder. He batted his eyes at him and Logan reached out to stroke his cheek so tenderly that Jean didn't think they could be anything but lovers.

Her Logan was never like that. Never open, never soft. He cared, in a distant way, but he never stayed. (Was it really that? Was it that he never tried to stay, or that they never gave him reason to? That they never gave him the chance to come inside before shutting the door in his face.)

But here it was. Physical proof that he was capable of looking at someone so softly. Of melting his hard exterior and becoming something more. Someone capable of cherishing the person they loved, of being domesticated.

Because there was really no other way than "domesticated" to describe him. He used to be like a wild animal—all sharp edges, jagged teeth, and razor-sharp claws. He snarled and growled at anyone who got too close and cornered him. He'd drop by for food, but snatch it and run off.

(But that's the thing about wild animals, isn't it? To get them to calm down, to stop seeing you as a threat, you need to be patient. To reach out. To prove you're safe. Did they ever really try?)

And now he even looked different. His hard muscles had filled out with a layer of fat. He looked healthy, like he wasn't just a tool built to fight and gnaw on the scraps he was given. He looked like a person who came back from work and ate a warm, balanced dinner at night. Who got adequate sleep had all of his needs taken care of. Who had a home.

Jean thought that Logan's personality was rough, sharp, and jagged. That he was just Like That and it was useless to try to change it. It was written into his character—Jean was the good girl and Scott was the good guy and Logan was always cast as the bad boy. Like a set of actors forced to play the same roles each time.

(After all, the bad boy is just someone you flirt with. Not someone you take home. Jean had said that, hadn't she?

And Logan had told her he could be the "good guy." Tried to show that he was capable of being more than just how he acted when he was hurt and alone. But she brushed it off. They all did.

And yet here Logan was. Soft and entranced by Wade in a way he never had been, even with her. Looking at him with something so much deeper than lust or attraction or infatuation. Looking at him with devotion. Reverence. Complete and utter love.)

But Logan wasn't Like That. He had always wanted to be soft. To be able to curl up next to somebody and trace the curve of their spine with his fingertips. He'd always yearned for a home he could feel genuinely warm in, where he'd be accepted and allowed to be vulnerable. Where he could laugh and cry and express emotions even if they weren't pretty. Even if they contradicted his "image."

He'd only been hard because he had to. Because if he wasn't, the biting words and indifference of everyone around him would cut so deep he'd never recover. Because if he let himself love and be vulnerable with the X-men and they still viewed him as a passerby, as a tool, as an outsider, as just someone to sleep with—he'd break.

But Wade gave him a home. Gave him the chance to finally love and be loved and not feel afraid. To open up. To show his emotions without fear of being scorned. To know he'd always be taken seriously. To not just be seen as the bad boy, but as a broken man desperate for anyone to show him even a crumb of affection. A reason to stay.

He was finally seen as more than just a stereotype. He was allowed to just be Logan. Gruff, angry, and animalistic. Soft, kind, and emotional. He was allowed to be both.

(Everyone always made him choose. Kind or gruff. Good or bad. Animal or human. Logan had to fit what they were looking for, hiding away the unwanted parts of him. He was either a ruthless tool or the perfect man. He could never just be himself. Not if he wanted people to stick around.)

Logan was used to being hidden. He was always the shameful secret. Jean was embarrassed to like him. Scott hid him away during the night and fought him during the day. He was a temptation, but that was it. They'd always choose each other first. Every member of the X-men had their person, but he was nobody's.

But with Wade, for the first time in his life, he was the first choice. He was the priority. He got to eat at the table instead of being fed scraps thrown onto the floor.

Logan thought it was natural to be treated as lesser. To be an afterthought. But when Wade cradled his face like he was something precious and was willing to die for him, he realized that he could be loved just as fiercely as he loved Wade. As an equal. As partners.

And so when he saw the X-men, he reacted the same way they had all those years ago: with indifference. With the same detached care he'd grown so used to. He spared them the effort of a few words, of reluctant acknowledgment, but that was it. If they never wanted to look closer at him or care about his needs, it was fine. But he'd do the same.

"Do you think Laura will like the gift we chose?" Wade hummed.

"I'm sure she'll love it," Logan murmured in response, leaning in closer to kiss his forehead.

After all, there was no need to scramble to collect crumbs when he was well-fed. There was no need to look for a shitty room in an empty-feeling mansion when he already had a home.

[ebbpup]

posting about this au cause i like it

more about it under here

timeline time!!

(This part is also like, a headcanon for the canon timeline) so wanda and cosmo leave for vacation, its pretty soon after they stop living with timmy, so maybe when peri is 9-10. they leave him in the care of Cosmo's parents, however it can be difficult for them so other fairies (probably some of the main ones we see outside of the family) would look after him. there were lots of expectations set on him due to how powerful he was at birth and his family history so he always pushed himself to do as good as he could! He even got a scholarship into a really good school!

now, here is where the timeline diverges, while for the canon timeline, Peri keeps trying, gets into a good college/university, becomes a fairy godparents, ect. ect. but not here, when he's about 16 he's tired of all the pressure put on him, he wants out, he envies the humans and wishes he could have a life like that. so why doesn't he? he packs his stuff and leaves. he's figured out how to give himself more human proportions but he has to wear a beanie and a jacket to hide his wings and crown. he manages to find a new family (he says his bio parents are dead), goes to a normal school and starts living a normal, "human" life.

eventually he is able to move out of home and into the apartment complex along with 3 roommates (will design them soon, probably). he gets into college/university and is able to do an online course (of what? idk). his life is good! he hasn't seen anything magical in years! nobody knows where he is (they are aware he is missing in fairy world but have no idea where he could be, not even Irep [or, still Foop since he doesn't know that Peri changed his name] knows where he is)! everything is good. everything is peaceful.

he has no idea that his parents have moved in a floor below him, he only finds out once he runs into the new family in town. Peri bumps into Hazel in her family, that's where the first comic takes place. They keep bumping into him and decide to invite him over for dinner since he seems like such a nice guy and has been very welcoming, Hazel suggests that they invite Wanda and Cosmo too since they've also been very welcoming and they decide, sure why not! By this point Hazel knows that Cosmo and Wanda think that Peri might be their kid since they have told her, and she's gonna give them the opportunity to talk to him! The dinner is a nightmare for Peri, dodging every single question that could reveal his identity, they can't know that he's their son, he can't go back to fairy world! luckily Hazel's parents don't really leave so they can't ask him directly, but the questions do get close. eventually the dinner ends and he can go home.

Que his parents constantly looking for him and Peri hiding, so many occasions of them just missing him. They've probably told others in Fairy World about how they've found him, even Irep finds out (who is now pissed at the name change). So eventually not only is he hiding from his parents, but sometimes others will also try to find him because like dude you went missing as a teenager of course they are looking for you.

also, Peri needs a job and gets hired as a babysitter to look after Dev. Dev and Hazel becoming friends is a nightmare for him.