#and thought i could fix something and feel good about myself and then i fucking broke it and lost it

[elytrafemme]

why doesn't anybody talk about schrodinger's mental illness? seriously i think i'm onto something here

[hecksupremechips]

Love being a boy who likes others boys like damn this is pretty silly I can’t believe we aren’t all doing this

[werecreature-addicted]

Sacrificial Lamb reader/vampire priest.

Just consider— a cute little lamb reader lying on the altar, begging not to be slaughtered, the tears their crying making the vampires heart flutter. All the cult members are confused why the ritual keeps getting pushed back- meanwhile the vampire is spoiling his little lamb rotten.

ohioohooohiohoo

His hands are gentle, stroking your cheek as you wake slowly, your eyes flutter open slowly to the morning light, and there he is, your keeper.

"Morning," you yawn sleepily,

"Good morning, little one,"

"is it a good morning? I thought my execution was scheduled for today." you huff, you should be more scared but the soft look on his face can only mean one thing. you get out of bed and change idly, not minding the priest as he watches you, he's a man of god after all, there's no way he'd be looking at you in lust.

"ah well, we thought so but some knew doctrine has come to light, now is not the time for sacrifices. we'll have to wait for next winter, at the very least," he says. You hum thoughtfully turning back to face him, his hungry red eyes fixed on your body, flicking up to meet your face as you turn around.

"Well, I'll make myself useful until winter then." When you were born, it had been prophecized that you would be sacrificed to the gods and your death would bring about a new golden age for your homeland. Then, on your eighteenth birthday, you'd been handed over to the church, to live out your final days in the temple, under the watchful gaze of the father and his dedicated cult. Your execution has been postponed four times now.

You wondered if the cultists even bothered setting up the altar this time. it was always something, the stars weren't aligned properly, the materials were all wrong, you fell ill and couldn't be slaughtered while sick, and now, Spring was a time for rebirth, you'd have to wait for winter for the ritual. which winter? who's to say? it might be another few years before he tries to start your sacrifice again.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. he puts his nose to your throat and kisses your skin. "You could be useful to me now," he breathes, his voice strained, tight with hunger. You had been so scared the first time you'd almost been killed, you remembered sobbing and pleading for your life, his knife poised above your throat, He told you that you could live, for now, if you served the cult and him. Of course, you agreed, that was the first time he bit you, spilling your blood on the altar in a different way.

You lean your neck to the side and sigh as you feel his fangs pierce your skin. you have to lean back against him for support as he drinks your blood and you grow weaker.

"so perfect, so delicious," he murmurs to himself as he drinks your blood, licking at your throat, catching any stray drops of blood. His hands slide down your body feeling up your hips and thighs. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your back as he slowly grinds against you. The priest is chaste, a man of god, but he's also a vampire, as he's explained he can't help but get erect when he feeds it's a natural side effect and completely nonsexual.

He pins you down on the bed and pushes your legs apart, grinding against you, fully clothed, as he bites your neck again. you feel dizzy, a mix of feelings as your blood is drained and as you buck and grind against the vampire on top of you. you try to keep quiet, but you can't help but moan as he takes full advantage of you. You feel dirty, the man who's saved your life so many times now is just trying to eat and here you are getting off, practically masturbating right in front of him with his cock.

You can feel how large his dick is as you grind together, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he pulled your underwear aside and fucked you properly while he drained your blood, the thought alone makes you shudder and press up against him as he continues to dry hump you. although with the sticky feeling between your legs and his wet mouth sucking on your neck, "dry" might be the wrong word.

you bite down on your own hand to muffle the sounds of your pleasure as you cum, still trying to hide your own lust, what would the priest think if he found out you were so lustful? if you were lucky he'd bend you over and spank you for being so sinful, at worst he might chain you down to the sacrificial altar and leave you there.

The priest pulls away, breathless, your blood smeared messily around his mouth "What a mess we've made," he huffs, looking down at your neck, and then his eyes drop further to the place where your bodies meet.

"I can clean it-" you offer weakly,

"no, no little thing, rest, you need to let your body heal, close your eyes, I'll take care of all this," he coos reassuringly, you nod obediently and close your eyes.

You look so venerable like this, he could do almost anything he wanted with you in this weakened state. the prophecy said it had to be a virginal sacrifice, maybe he could halt the ritual permanently if he just took what he'd wanted from the beginning.

[ruyakasunshine]

F1 drivers rated on how likely they are to know what ao3 is

note : this is just for entertainment. I will also use this to make a general reminder not to get anything fanfic/rpf related outside of sites such as tumblr, ao3, or wattpad. Enjoy!

This is just the current grid, because if I had to do it with every driver that raced this season, I'd get a surprisingly high amount of drivers to talk about.

20. Fernando

Grandpa. Need I to say more?

19. Checo

In a recent GQ Sport interview, he revealed that he didn't even have social media on his phone. I'd be surprised to hear he has any ao3 tab open up there.

18. K-mag

I don't feel like I need to explain this one. But I also believe that if Haas got him to read a chapter of a wattpad fanfic out loud where he has to replace Y/N with his own name after every penalty point he gets, he would have stopped causing so much ruckus. Or he might even cause more, who knows what goes on inside his mind.

17. Nico Hulk

Hear me out, he doesn't know what a fanfic is, but if he were more popular with the writer, he'd read the shit out of those.

16. Valterri

I could pay actual money to hear him read a 'kidnapped by one direction' self insert story out loud. If there is any Sauber intern lurking here, please consider. Wattpad as a sponsor would bring you a lot of money, think about it. I promise you will see a rise in your fandom if the name of the team was "wattpad kick sauber". I would buy merch. You need the money the way the constructors are going. Think about it.

15. Lance

I don't know too much about him, but I will assume he doesn't spend too much time on social media, or googling himself with all the hate he gets. But maybe if he were to read a strollonso fanfic, we might get to see him have actual expressions on his face. Granted, that would be a look of horror, but I will take what I can.

14. Carlos

I think he might combust if he read any ABO fanfic. I might want to see that.

13. Max

He is too busy sim racing to care. Good for him, I wish I could say the same about myself but alas I am too busy reading the same fanfic for the 23th time.

12. Yuki

I believe if you pronounced the term "Y/N" next to him he might assume that's a car brand. Or, like, hello in a foreign language. Again, good for him.

11. Zhou

Hear me out, fanfics seem to be quite popular in China, and he has a sister, there is no way he hasn't heard of the existences of it. I don't think he has read any though, which is for the better.

10. Franco

Our dear Franquito hasn't been on the grid for long enough to discover the amazing word that fanfics have to offer, but let me tell you that if he hasn't found out stuff yet, he'll find some soon enough. Let the writers have time to write a little bit more about him, and soon we'll get an instagram live of him reacting to those.

9. Liam

I think he is young enough to have googled himself (he had to find something to do since he's been a reserve driver since like the year 2010), but he also hasn't been a permanent member, so he might not have enough material to accidentally stumble upon.

8. Esteban

He googles himself. He knows there are fanfics. And he fucking likes that. If there is a rise of pierresteban fics on ao3 after Brazil 2024, he will be the first one to know let me tell you that much.

7. Lewis

Okay you might be wondering why this senior citizen is up here, and the answer is simple : he is too famous not to know. Like COME ON. He's been here since 2007 (which is longer than some people who'll see this post have been alive for— that's a scary thought for another day), he has been in famous and televised rivalry, and he has to live with the existence of the quote "everything but a lover" about nico and him.

There is no way he hasn't READ a fucking brocedes fanfic. If he is willing, I will teach him how to use ao3 so he can look-up some "fix-it" fics. He might use some inspiration, and who is better for that than tired college students writing about their sad ass in between lectures?

6. George

He seems like the type to lurk a lot around the internet, so the chances of him finding the link to a fic on the third page of google isn't impossible to me.

If you find any comment of someone correcting your spelling, you know who did it.

5. Pierre

He probably googles his name too often not to have stumbled upon a "Reader x Pierre Gasly" wattpad fanfic. sigh.

4. Alex

Alex, I know that you are the second most likely to have tumblr (right after george who actually has an account). The chances of you knowing what a "lemon" is is way too high for my liking.

3. Charles

The C in Charles stands for Chronically Online. My boy was known for liking tweets about himself, and we know that fans talk about fanfics on twitter. He clicked on a link of a lestappen or sebchal fanfic at least once out of curiosity let me tell you this much.

2. Lando

Too chronically online not to have read fanfics about himself. I just know he typed in "lando norris fanfiction" straight in google at least once. Jail.

1. Oscar

Here me out : his sister is a K-pop fan. If you believe that she never yapped about a fanfic she read to her brother, you are strongly unfamiliar with sibling relationships. But the chances of him not listening to her are also very high, so maybe he shouldn't be so high up my list. But oh well.

He is also good at hiding his game, but he is as online as Charles (you thought you were sneaky but we caught you clicking on that link of Max playing air-hocket dear Osc.)

For my own mental health though, I will assume he hasn't read about his own self yet.

[areyouwell]

Logan x angel!reader where the reader had to get medical treatment after a mission because her angel wings (that are apart of her mutation) were burned and partially damaged after battle, and Logan comes in to check up on her?

Tattered

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Word count: 10K

A/N: first request! so i definitely took some creative license with this... i sort of just kept adding scenes and ideas but this concept was so fierce boots i couldn't help myself. hope this is what you have in mind <3 i have also elected, from now onwards, not to use warnings on my fics unless there's explicit content in which case it will simply just have MDNI in red.

I don't have a taglist for like, oneshots or requests rn so lmk if anyone would like to be added :)

“Watch your six, Icarus!” Scott’s voice crackled from your earpiece as you swooped over the battlefield, the feathers in your wings fluttering in the wind. Glancing behind back, you realised why Scott had alerted you, three drones tailed you with six red dots seeking out your presence. Fuck, this wasn’t good. Why did nothing ever go right? Why were there always fucking complications?

You tucked your wings in tight against your back as you joined the rest of the team inside the Blackbird. You’d always been conscious of how much room you often took up, and whilst your mutation was your pride and joy, it was a common occurrence to feel a little self conscious when trying to cram multiple people into a tight space. You never occupied any of the seats in the cockpit, your wings wouldn’t allow it, and it was never comfortable for you anyway, the way they would shift and bend at unnatural angles meant you’d constantly be shuffling around to stop the awkward ache in your shoulder blades.

Icarus. That was your name. Well, not your name, but that’s what they called you on account of your gleaming golden feathers. You thought it was a little mean, to be honest. You had no intention of flying too close to the sun anytime soon, but alas, you were stuck with it, and over time, you’d come to appreciate it. They weren’t far off anyway. You did have grand ideals, and dreams to become something more than just a freedom fighter. You wanted to change the world and make it a safer place where humans and mutants could live in harmony. You knew a lot of the hard graft was political, and Hank was doing wonders for mutant reputation, but you still would like to contribute something other than stopping mutant slave trades and taking down illegal, anti-mutant organisations. 

That was the mission today. Some hate-crazed fuck had been building some kind of drone that could target the mutant gene. Kind of like the sentinels from years ago, but they’d been discontinued.

Thank fuck. 

The muscles in your shoulders tensed slightly as Ororo and Logan finally joined the rest of you, deep in conversation about the inevitable upcoming battle. You tucked yourself further into the wall, cursing lowly as you hit your head against the steel. 

Your relationship with Logan was… complicated, to say the least. The two of you instantly clicked when you met, finding yourself at ease with his gruff, surprisingly playful demeanour. You guessed he must have felt the same, since you noticed he would often seek you out during breaktimes, or take the seat next to you during meetings, sending you looks whenever Scott said something particularly leader-ish. You’d have to bite back a smile and attempt to keep your serious composure, lest anyone would think you weren’t taking the meeting seriously. 

And then there was the night things shifted between you. It was late, possibly early hours of the morning. Your muscles ached from being unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in, the beds not exactly being tailored to suit those with extra limbs, and with a huff of irritation, you’d given up to head downstairs and fix yourself an Irish coffee. And whilst there was a serious lack of Irish whiskey in the school, you knew Logan had a bottle of bourbon hiding somewhere in the cupboards, out of reach for most of the younger kids. 

You’d managed to clamber up onto the counter, perched precariously on the edge as you rifled around the top shelf, pulling down various unused cooking equipment before you finally came across the liquid gold. With a triumphant smile, you reached in further to wrap your fingers around the neck of the bottle, delicately pulling it from the depths of the cupboard. Only, it was stuck. 

The screw top kept scraping against the top of the cupboard, and you grit your teeth as your fruitless yanking sent pots and pans clattering against each other. You seriously didn’t want to wake anyone only to have them come down and find you up on your knees, balancing on the thin space of the counter, elbow deep in the top cupboard and frantically pulling at a bottle of whiskey. Fuck knows what kind of an impression that would give, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the correct one. 

Flaring your wings for balance, you completely misjudged the tips of your wingspan, knocking over an empty can of baked beans and sending it rolling onto the floor with a loud, deafening clang. You froze, attempting to quiet your breathing whilst you waited for the telltale sound of footsteps or the annoyed slam of a bedroom door. But your intense listening found nothing, the halls of the school blissfully quiet as you loosened your held breath. 

Nothing. Everyone was still asleep.

You turned your attention back to the stubborn bottle, this time trying to gently manoeuvre it around the baking bowls and saucepans, teasing it from the small little hiding place like you would a scared child. 

“Come… on.” You hissed with effort, finally freeing your vice from its trap with a final, harsh tug. Only, it was a little harsher than you’d have liked it to be. You grabbed the handle of the cupboard to your left to hold your balance, only for the door to swing open and provide absolutely no stability whatsoever. 

You felt yourself fall backwards with a frantic, whispered curse, swinging with the cupboard door, and resigned yourself to the sore back you’d get from falling to the floor. Or, at least, you would have fallen to the floor, if it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of a warm palm at the centre of your spine. 

“Rough–” 

You yelped at the unexpected voice behind you, you entire body jumping as if you were shocked by a socket. 

“Stop screaming, it’s me,” Logan soothed with no small degree of subdued amusement. “Rough night?”

It wasn’t like he was asleep, more like dozing when he heard the soft padding of footsteps pass his door and head down the stairs. Knowing it was you, he assumed you’d just woken up thirsty and were heading down for a glass of water. His assumption proved incorrect when the clattering of pans and the clang of something hitting the floor broke the steady silence, and curiosity won over when he decided to investigate just exactly what it was you were doing. 

What he wasn’t expecting was to find you clinging onto the cupboards for dear life, his bottle of whiskey clutched in one stubborn hand and your other gripping the open door of the shelf next to you. And it was pure instinct to lunge forward and steady you before you fell to the floor, though in the following moments, he convinced himself it was purely because he didn’t want you to wake up anyone else.

“What?” You asked in bewilderment, turning your head to see his brow raise at the bottle you had in your white knuckle grip. How the hell hadn’t you heard him? You’d stayed silent for at least five minutes before resuming your attempts to pull the bottle out. How the hell had he managed to still creep up on you?

“It’s two in the mornin’ and you’re makin’ a grab for whiskey. So, rough night?” He asked again, moving his hands from your back to your waist, steadying you as you clambered down from the countertop, and he did his best to ignore the feeling of your warm skin seeping through the thin nightshirt you were wearing. At least you were wearing shorts. Though, he counted that as both a blessing and a curse. 

He liked you. Despite trying to gaslight himself otherwise, there were times when he truly couldn’t deny it. And this time was one of them. You looked a little dishevelled, hair slightly frizzy and out of place from tossing and turning, and it was one of the rare times he’d seen you without any makeup on. You never wore a lot, just enough to accent your already glowing features and cover any blemishes he thought you had no reason to feel self-conscious about. 

You were so perfectly yourself, it was tricky for him not to fall in love with you.

Not that he had, of course. This was just a surface-level crush…

Yeah. Totally.

“You uh, yeah, you could say that. One of those nights, ya know?” You offered a small, slightly dejected smile, and his heart bled slightly. He knew. More than he could say, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You plannin’ on drinking yourself to sleep?” He asked with wry suspicion as you leaned against the counter, placing his bottle next to the kettle you still needed to flip on. 

“The opposite, actually. Wanted to fix myself an Irish coffee. Seeing as I’m not sleeping tonight, might as well stay up.” You shrugged, finding the willpower to turn away from him and grab the ground coffee from the lower cupboard. Thankfully, it didn’t put up the same kind of fight as the bottle. 

It was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the electricity humming from where his hands were still against your waist, though his grip was lighter than when he’d helped you down. It truly wasn’t decent to detail the things you were thinking at that moment, and you had to force yourself to think of unsexy things. 

“We have a mission in two days and you’re pullin’ an all-nighter?” He asked, his brows pinching in badly concealed concern. Your heavy sigh did nothing to quench his worry.

“What’m I supposed to do? You try sleeping in a bed that’s too small with wings that stretch to either side of the room,” You huffed, flicking down the switch on the kettle and spooning a good two heaps of coffee grounds into the cafetiere. “Doesn’t matter what position. On my back or my side, shit’s so fucking uncomfortable it almost hurts.” 

“Why not sleep on your front?”

You snapped back to look at him, eyes hardening to steel. “No. Never sleep on my front.”

You’d said it with so much force he almost reeled back. There was a story there, there had to be, for you to clap back at him with such a bite there was no way it was just a personal preference. You hadn’t really told anyone about your life before the school, but from the bare snippets he’d heard from Charles, it wasn’t exactly how anyone would describe as happy. And there was fear behind that steel. Vulnerability. 

Logan sighed, leaning across you to flip the switch back up, stopping the kettle from boiling. You gaped indignantly, and before you could ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing, he spoke before you.

“Sleep with me.”

You choked, eyes blowing wide with shock. “I… what?”

Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame the crooked curl of his lips at your complete one-eighty from irritation to stupefaction, even the feathers of your wings had puffed out slightly. “Not like that, freak,” although I wouldn’t be opposed. “Just… for company. Might help, s’all.” He offered quietly, and a blanket of realisation settled in your chest. He was awake too. It had only just occurred to you. He hadn’t been sleeping. He didn’t even look like he’d been sleeping. And it made more sense in your head for him to offer if it was something that could benefit both of you. 

It seemed highly unlikely he was offering just for you. Right?

“You sure? Don’t wanna like, intrude on your space or anything…” 

“Not intrudin’ if I offer,” he reasoned, and you guessed you couldn’t argue with that. With a heavy sigh, you looked back to the bottle of whiskey you’d fought wars to obtain, realising now that the whole cupboard situation had been for nothing. 

“All that effort,” you pouted comically, and Logan huffed a smile.

“I’ll put it somewhere easier next time. C’mon.” He nudged you before grabbing the bottle and returning it to the top shelf. You cursed his stupid height and the fact that he wasn’t down earlier. He could have retrieved it for you with so much less effort. But at the same time… if he had…

You wouldn’t be where you are now. 

You followed him back up the stairs, taking a left to the door only a few down from your own. You didn’t quite know how sleeping in the presence of someone else would help, but you were not about to say no to sleeping by his side. It wasn’t like this was something you’d thought about. At great length. And in great detail.

And this certainly wasn’t a scenario he’d entertained far too many times to count. 

Though upon seeing the double bed, that same self-conscious feeling reared its ugly head. There was no way you weren’t going to disturb him. You could barely find comfort in your own bed of the same size, let alone trying to sleep with someone else taking up space. You hesitated in the doorway, and Logan turned back to you, his head quirking to the side. 

“You ‘kay?”

“Yeah… s’just– are you sure I’m not gonna disturb you? Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I take up a bit more room than other people…” you extended your wings in emphasis, barely able to stretch them to half their wingspan before the side of the closet and the wall stopped you. Logan breathed a soft smile, and you felt yourself shrink slightly. 

“I’ll be fine, just get in.”

You huffed in resignation, tucking the feathers close into your back and crossing to the other side of the bed, unable to stop thinking about how ridiculous this was. You really should just get the fuck over yourself and go back to your room. How tricky was sleeping on your front anyway? Maybe this time you wouldn’t wake up with a panic attack and you were just being dramatic this whole time. You were fine. It really wasn’t that deep. You didn’t want to disturb him just because you couldn’t get over some stupid fucking fear. This was–

“Christ, I’m not even a telepath and I can hear ya thinkin’. It’s fine, sweetheart. You’re fine.” He implored, throwing back the covers for you to take up the space next to him, but you continued to hesitate. “You want a written invitation or somethin’? Get your ass in bed.”

“Alright, jeez…” you pursed your lips to stop yourself from smiling at his smartass comment, keeping your wings firmly against your back as you shuffled beneath the covers by his side, careful not to take up too much room. Your shoulder started to cramp up slightly, but there was no way you were about to release the tension in your muscles until you were sure he was asleep. 

Pulling the covers up to your neck as best you could, you scooted down until your head hit the pillow, shifting in yet another attempt to ease the ache in your back. You hadn’t noticed he’d turned on his side to face you until you looked back ahead and were suddenly met with his flat look of exasperation.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Your voice raised into a pitch of innocence, and Logan barely managed to suppress his eye roll of sarcasm. 

“The point was for you to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable!”

“As comfortable as someone would be whilst constantly tensing, yeah?”

“Logan, if I don’t, you’ll wake up with feathers in your nose.”

He snorted a laugh, and you giggled slightly along with him. “You look ridiculous.”

You gaped in mock offence. “Hey!”

“Come ‘ere…” in one swift movement, you were dragged from your position on your side, and he turned the both of you until you were settled on his chest. Panic swirled in your mind as your back was exposed to the room, until a steady hand soothed your racing pulse against your spine, in the space between your wings. You felt comfort dampen your anxiety, breathing deeply into the dip between his collarbone and neck, exhaling a shaky breath. You let the seconds tick by, expecting yourself to start gasping rapidly at any moment. But the longer your heart stayed settled, the more you realised this might actually work. “Y’okay?” He asked quietly, and you nodded against his chest.

“Yeah… just surprised. Usually, I’d be thinking I’m about to die by this point,” you half-joked, and though you couldn’t see him, Logan’s brows pinched in empathy. What the hell had happened to you before joining the team? Finding the school? His fingers slowly grazed through the short, fluffy feathers at the base of your wings, carding through the stiff joints. He watched in mild amusement as you shivered slightly, those feathers puffing out and shuddering at his touch. He lightly dug his fingers into the hard muscles around the joint, and you had to clamp your mouth shut to stop yourself from sighing in release. You hadn’t realised just how much strain it was to constantly keep them tight against your back, and whilst it had proven useful to build up the muscle, it had also resulted in some nasty knots. 

Achingly slowly, your wings started to relax, heavy, hollow bones coming to rest across his body, wingtips grazing the floors on either side of the bed as you blanketed the both of you in a soft, warm embrace. Your eyes started to grow tired, lids drooping with each gentle caress of his fingers across your back. 

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.” He whispered, and you didn’t have the energy to contemplate the fact he’d just used two new pet names for you. If you weren’t so damn tired, your insides would have exploded with butterflies by now, but the siren call of sleep lulled you into a sense of security, and with his steady heartbeat your lullaby, you gave in to the soft pull of rest. 

That was the night things changed between you. The day after he would barely leave your side, sticking by you throughout the morning, taking the seat next to you in the pre-mission meeting that same evening, sending you quick glances that he’d cut short whenever your eyes met. And it was the same when he entered the Blackbird, with you tucked tight against the wall. His eyes found you instantly, lips carving into a gentle smile, his hand falling to your shoulder as he walked past you. You savoured the touch, missing the contact when his hand fell back to his side, still deep in conversation with Ororo. 

“Do you want to fly above us, Icarus? Might be more comfortable,” Scott asked from where he’d taken his seat at the front of the jet, his head turning back to look at you through his glasses. You knew what he meant. There was only so much room in the Blackbird, and despite your best efforts, you were taking up a considerable amount. You took a moment to think, weighing up your options. And whilst you loved the freedom of flying, you couldn’t help but think it was a backhanded way of asking you to stop taking up so much room. He may not have meant it that way, but that’s just how it felt. 

“Uh, sure. Yeah, might be better…” You mumbled with a shrug, trying in vain to stop the hot shame from flushing your cheeks. 

Logan’s jaw tensed, his teeth grinding together, the sound resonating through his skull. He’d been trying so damn hard to get you to loosen up about your wings. And whilst he found it difficult to properly articulate just how gorgeous he thought they were, he thought he was finally making some progress after the last two days. So the way Scott insensitively asked you to fly instead of taking the jet wound him up. 

“Only if it would be better for you. Don’t do it just cuz ya think it’ll be more comfortable for everyone else,” he ground out with a pointed look to Scott, whose brows furrowed in brief confusion before his mouth fell open in horror.

“Shit, no that’s not what I meant! I just thought–”

“It’s fine, Scott,” you tried placating the panicking Cyclops. “I need to stretch them out before the mission anyway.” You smiled a liar's smile, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade and into your genuine hurt before turning on your heel to head back down the ramp. You managed to make it roughly halfway before a hand caught your arm, stopping you short. 

“You’re not doin’ this cuz of these, right?” Logan asked, gesturing to your wings with his head, his eyes searching your expression as if he was looking to peer right through you. You offered him the same smile you gave Scott, and whilst it worked to settle Cyclops, it only served to broaden Logan’s concern. 

“Nah, I really do need to stretch them out, feeling kinda stiff today so it’s not a problem.” You said brazenly, shrugging off his concerns with faux confidence. You knew it didn’t work when his expression didn’t shift, his hand tightening slightly around your arm. You sighed, defeated. “It’s fine, Logan. Everyone’ll be more comfortable like this anyway, myself included. I won’t feel like I’m–”

“If you finish that sentence with ‘in the way’ I’ll throw you off the jet myself.” He borderline growled, and you tensed your jaw in slight irritation. Couldn’t he just let you have this? Couldn’t he just let you do this one thing to make everyone’s lives more comfortable? Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

“Just… drop it, yeah? I’ll see you guys when we get there.” You bit, almost snatching your arm from his grip and continuing down the ramp, crouching low when you reached the bottom and launching into the skies, your wings beating hard as cold wind whipped your face. All Logan could do was watch you go, regret piercing his chest as the sound of your wings receded into the night sky. 

And that was how you found yourself already airborne when Scott’s voice crackled through your earpiece, the low hum of those three drones on your tail like the toll of death, the rapid beeping of target systems an accompaniment to the symphony. Tucking one of your wings in tight, you fell into a sharp stoop, panic rising in your chest as they followed you down. The hissing release of metal combined with the sudden roar of a rocket told you at least one of them had fired on you. You flared your wings, catching the air like a feathered parachute as you levelled out quickly, the missile shooting past you and into the ground below. The heat from the explosion fanned your face as you whipped around the wreckage of a building, those three drones still hot on your trail.

Logan looked up as you soared above, his claws drenched in blood as he yanked them out the helmet of some unfortunate soldier who’d made the mistake of thinking he could take on The Wolverine. His heart raced in his throat as those six dots wouldn’t stray from your body, drones expertly following your manoeuvres, mimicking every duck and dive, narrowly missing the corners of buildings and rising flames. Ororo’s voice crackled in his own earpiece, her tone frantic. 

“Icarus you gotta shake them!”

“NO SHIT!”

He almost winced at the panic in your voice, snapping back at Storm in a way he’d never heard you do before. Casting a quick glance to his surroundings, he saw Scott with his fingers braced on his glasses, beams of white-hot energy streaking the battlefield as he picked off one guard after another. 

“Scott!” He called, his legs pounding the ground as he ran over, slicing through the gut of a nameless, faceless soldier who stood in his way before he jogged to a stop. “Think you can get a clear shot?” He asked, his words rushed as his gaze returned to the skies, another explosion booming bright before you raced around the corner of the main building. 

“They’re moving too fast and it’s too much of a risk.” Scott called back over the din of battle, the crackle and boom of thunder overhead striking the earth with expert precision as Storm unleashed yet another bolt from the clouds above. A little too close to you for comfort. 

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as you levelled out, those tenacious six red dots still focused solely on your racing form, your wings beating and dipping with every expert manoeuvre as you once again swooped from sight. But it still wasn’t enough. 

“Lead the shot.”

“What?”

“Lead the damn shot, Scott. She’ll be comin’ back round, it’s a pattern. Just do it.” He almost pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. He knew you only had precious seconds before those missiles would fire again, and you couldn’t outrun them forever.

You crested back around the ruins of the facility, and it was only due to his enhanced sight could he see your confidence wavering, your jaw tense with concentration, though your eyes were blown wide with panic. 

The beep of the target systems increased rapidly, before blending into one long note. And it was like time came to a slow crawl. A puff of silver gas erupted from the base of the drone, a pinpoint missile dropping from the small hold to hone in on your location before Scott had a chance to take it out. 

Switching targets, Scott moved his head to the side slightly, leading the shot as Logan had said, the beam of pure, red and white hot energy shot from his glasses, quick as a blink. And for one, blissfully ignorant moment, Logan thought they’d succeeded.

But the missile was too close. The moment the pure energy collided with the steel casing, a ball of furnace orange flame and thick black smoke lit the sky. Before you had time to think, searing agony jolted your back, hellfire burning your shoulders and wings as you were thrust forward, losing control of your trajectory. Panic gripped your heart as you tried in vain to regain your altitude, but your wings weren’t responding. The stench of burning feathers and flesh singed your nose as you went down, caught up in the explosion between Scott’s beam and the missile. 

Wind roared in your ears, whipping your hair as you descended, flailing and spiralling, to the ground, trees and ruin rising to bring your fall, and your life, to a sharp end. 

“STORM!”

“ICARUS!”

Two indistinguishable voices exploded in your ears, deafening you over the din of death. You knew this was most likely it. This was most likely the end, but you felt numb peace as the wind kept you company, wrapping around you almost like a blanket as you braced your arms against your chest, pain splitting your body and mind as the open rooftop of a ruined house ripped through your suit and flesh as you struck the ground, knowing nothing more than darkness.

“No…” Logan whispered, his entire world coming to an abrupt halt as you descended past his line of vision, a cloud of black dust rolling from the wreckage of a home. You weren’t dead. You couldn’t be dead. He was moving before he’d even registered it, racing across blackened bodies and charred remains of structures. His throat tore with repeated cries of your name, pushing past collapsed beams and splinters of wood, shoving aside wrecked furniture and broken decor before he saw you.

Lifeless.

In a pool of your own blood. 

Your leg lay in an unnatural angle, your wings charred and broken, your wrist twisted in a way he knew it really shouldn’t be. His blood turned to ice in his veins, face blanching as he couldn’t see the rise and fall of your chest beneath the shrapnel and dust covering you. A jagged wooden spike protruded from the dip between your shoulder and your chest, the entry wound somewhere on your back.

He had to check if you were still alive, but he couldn't move, finding himself frozen in place. He couldn't lose you. Not when he was finally putting the foundations down for your relationship. He couldn't lose you now… 

But seeing your body broken like this… there was no way you could have survived that fall, even with Ororo’s help. She tried to slow your descent too late, a gust of wind appearing from nowhere to catch you just a second after she should have. Maybe you’d still be alive if she'd succeeded. Maybe you’d still be here if he hadn't asked Scott to shoot those fucking drones.

Maybe…

“Fuck! Icarus! Icarus can you hear me?” Storm rushed past him, followed by a horrified Cyclops, and if Logan could focus on anything other than your twisted limbs, he'd see the overwhelming sense of guilt on his face. 

Ororo pushes off the splinters of wood and debris from your body, her movements hurried yet careful, terrified of moving you too much. She placed two trembling fingers against the side of your neck and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited…

Logan thought the moment would never end, silence blanketing the ruined room as the three of them could do nothing but watch, Jean quietly placing a hand on Scott's shoulder. 

“There's a pulse!” Storm cried, a sob of relief erupting from her throat as Jean rushed forward, her hands ghosting the top of your body. 

You were alive. Alive. How the fuck had you survived that? There was no way you could have survived that. You fell from over two hundred feet, how the fuck–

“We need to stabilise her. She's lost a lot of blood and it hasn't stopped. Can you tell what the damage is?” Storm turned to Jean, hoping her telekinesis could find something, anything that would provide more information. 

“Broken ribs, her lung is punctured, I think she's bleeding internally and we can’t remove this or she’ll bleed out… I can't do shit out here, we need to get her back to the school. Now.” Jean's voice took on a tone of authority, spurring Scott back into action, but Logan was still paralysed. It was only two nights ago you were sound asleep on his chest, only yesterday he couldn’t stand being further than two feet from you. 

Logan…

You were alive, but how long for? Was he just given false hope, only to lose you on the way? On the operating table? How much longer did you have? How much longer did he have?

“Logan…”

He wanted to blame Scott. Fuck, he wished he could blame Scott. But the truth was, he asked him to take them out. He was the one who asked if he had a shot. He was the one who coerced him to take it. Would you have been okay? Would you have been able to shake them on your own? Had he single-handedly brought on your fall?

“LOGAN!”

Logan blinked rapidly, eyes burning from how long he was staring, unblinkingly, at your broken body. Numbly, he tore his gaze from you and over to Ororo, and though her brows were pinched in concern, her eyes were hard with determination. 

“I know, but if we wait any longer, we’ll lose her. Think you can clear Jean a path?” She glanced pointedly to the rubble somewhat blocking the doorway, and it took him another second before forcing his body to move, nodding wordlessly to Ororo’s orders. He wasn’t usually one to just mindlessly obey, but he wasn’t able to think straight at the moment and was honestly thankful for the others taking charge. 

He was strong at the best of times, but self-hatred fuelled his arms to work overtime, shoving away impossibly large beams and collapsed part of the wall before there was a clear path for Jean to levitate you through. Your smouldering wings dragged along the ground, tattered and torn, gathering dust and grime along the bloodied tips. Only now had could he get a glimpse of your back, the worst of the damage caking your shoulders and wing joints in blackened crimson. Feathers had burned away, leaving your mutation raw and weeping. You didn’t know what he was talking to Ororo about on the walk to the jet. You didn’t know he was asking her if you had a favourite food, or colour, or flower. You had no idea he’d planned to officially ask you out after the mission. 

Now you might never know.

Scott slowly approached him, looking as if he were in a state of complete shock, replaying what went wrong over and over again in his head. All it took was one glance, and Logan didn’t even need to see his eyes to know they were buried in remorse. He wanted to be furious at him, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be beside himself with desperate anger, but there was nothing to be angry at him for. This wasn’t Scott’s fault…

It was his. 

The ride back to the mansion took days and also five seconds, Jean doing her best to keep you stable whilst Ororo took the pilot’s seat, Scott being in no shape to fly anything. Logan found himself too terrified to touch you as if the slightest movement could worsen your condition. In the silence of the ship, he could hear your haunting, rasped breaths, slow and shallow. The stench of charred flesh and boiled blood made his stomach clench, but not as much as the wounds across your body. He forced himself to look at them. To look at what he’d done to you because of his choices. Forced himself to sear every weeping burn, every broken bone, every blood-soaked bandage into his memory. Your wings, which once held so much majesty and beauty, now lay in tatters, and he had no idea if they would grow back. Would you ever be able to fly again? Logan didn’t know if he’d be able to look himself in the mirror if he’d taken that from you too. 

“She’s going to be okay, Logan. She’s stabilised for now and the Professor already knows the situation. Hank’s on standby and Charles has called in a favour from a surgeon. She’ll be in the best hands possible when we get there.” Jean attempted to comfort him, all the while focussed on keeping you stable from any turbulence and making sure your wounds didn’t worsen. 

“I did this…” he whispered, uttering the first words since watching you fall. Speaking his thoughts into the thick silence, the rest of the team cast glances at each other, Scott running a hand through his hair.

“No… I should have trusted your judgment. I hesitated. Fired too late. You can’t blame yourself for this…” He hissed, dragging the hand from his hair down the side of his face. 

“You both did what you could,” Ororo offered from the cockpit, her eyes still focused on the clouds ahead. “If you hadn’t done anything, she’d be dead by now. Those drones weren’t going to give up and she couldn’t shake them. She’s still here because of what happened, not despite it.” 

Logan couldn’t find the self-compassion to believe her. His eyes still trained on the scattering of feathers beneath where Jean suspended you from the ground. He wearily raised his head when the redhead called his name, her features soft with understanding. 

“Come here,” she gesture him over with a nod of her head, her hands still hovering over your body. Logan hesitated before rising from his seat, to stand by your side, across from Jean. “Place two fingers against the side of her neck,” she instructed, and his breath hitched, eyes darting from your unconscious face to Jean. “You won’t hurt her, just do it.”

Inhaling sharply, Logan softly brushed your hair back from your neck, gently placing two fingers against your pulse point. There he felt the slight, slow thump of your heart still beating. The realisation was enough to bring him to his knees, not caring about the sharp bark of pain as he struck the steel floor. He knew you were alive. Ororo had said as much, but to actually feel you, to feel the evidence of you’re still beating heart, broke through the dam of self-hatred.

His hand cautiously skirted up your jaw to rest against the side of your cheek as he pressed his forehead into your hair, his breath shuddering with the effort to keep himself from falling apart. He didn’t care that he could taste blood and dirt when he softly kissed the side of your head. Didn’t care that now everyone knew how he felt about you. His thumb lightly caressed your cheekbone, smoothing the grimy skin beneath your eye. 

You hadn’t left him yet. You were still here. 

“She’s alive, Logan. And we’re gonna keep her that way,” the conviction in Jean’s eyes was almost enough to settle his heart, but he knew the twisting worry wouldn’t loosen until he saw you open your eyes, your wounds healing, your wings bright again.

Everything ached. Everything. You felt as if you’d been hit by a bus, only for the bus to reverse back over your body, and hit you again. Your wrist barked with sharp pain when you tried to shift, your eyes still closed against the bright lights behind your lids. Something tight was almost cutting off the circulation to your left leg, and inhaling too deeply caused your chest to convulse in agony. The steady beep of a heart rate monitor helped you count roughly how many seconds you’d been conscious. You tried to think back to what could have happened, only to find the last thing you remembered was stooping in a low dive with three drones tailing you. There was an explosion at your back and–

You were falling. 

You’d fallen.

So much for not living up to your name…

With a hissing wince, you cracked your eyes open, only to instantly screw them shut at the sharp burn of bright lights unfamiliar to your retinas. How long have you been out? How did the mission go? Was everybody okay? Was Logan okay? 

With renewed determination, you attempted to open your eyes again, gritting your teeth as you blinked through the burn of adjustment. You knew this ceiling. You knew this table. From your first ever visit to the school, you’d been taken care of in this very room. You groaned slightly, exhaustion already taking its

 toll on your weary bones. Any attempt to move yourself resulted in agony spiking up your spine, white-hot pain cresting through your shoulder blades. Panic gripped your heart as you attempted to move your wings, only to find resistance. Turning your head with a sharp gasp, your eyes welled up with new tears seeing your torn, tattered feathers bound in bandages, held suspended by a sling from the ceiling. They were still attached, so there was that, you supposed, but it had been a long, long time since you’d seen them in this condition. 

You glanced down the bed to find your leg wrapped in a cast, held aloft from the mattress. Your wrist too seemed to be encased in white. You turned your neck to the other side with the intention of gauging the damage to your other wing, before your eyes widened at who you saw, head bowed asleep, in the chair next to your bed. 

Despite yourself and your situation, you couldn’t stop your lips from pulling into a fond, soft smile as Logan snored lightly. He looked truly exhausted, his hair mussed from how many times he’d run his hands through it. You didn’t think it was possible to adore him any more than you already did, but here you were, finding your heart growing three sizes at the sight. 

The doors opposite you slid open, Jean striding through with a clipboard and a thin pair of glasses perched on her nose. She stopped dead when she looked up from her notes, almost dropping her pen to the floor when she registered the fact you were awake. Silently, you placed a finger to your lips, before pointing over to the exhausted Logan in the chair. She smiled with a fond nod, 

Keeping her footsteps light, she crossed the medical bay to take a look at the readings on the screen, before crouching down next to your bed, her eyes focusing on the bandages across the bend of your wing. 

“He hasn’t slept since we got back. Storm had to force him to eat something yesterday. And he hasn’t stepped foot outside this room.” Jean explained, keeping her voice to a low whisper.

“How long’ve I been here…?” you asked, unable to raise your voice louder than a low whisper. Your throat scratched with every word, and you hadn’t realised just how thirsty you were until now. 

“A week and three days. I’m going to slowly reintroduce food into your stomach before taking out the IV, okay?” 

You barely heard the rest of her sentence. A week and three days? That was a little longer than you were expecting, to be honest. 

“Wait… Logan hasn’t slept in over a week?” You managed to rasp a little louder, your chest lurching with concern. That wasn’t healthy for anyone, even someone who could regenerate as fast as he could. No wonder he was utterly spent. 

And it was as if your voice were like an alarm clock. One moment your hushed tones were accompanied by the soft snores of the man in the chair, the next his eyes shot open, your whispered name the first words on his lips. 

Turning your head back to him, your breath caught in your throat. There was a hurricane of emotions swirling in his hazel eyes. Relief, guilt, fear, joy, remorse. A cocktail of feelings clouded his eyes and you wished you had the energy to cup the side of his face and reassure him you were alright. 

Logan’s exhausted haze cleared instantly upon hearing your voice, seeing your eyes open for the first time since he watched you plummet to the ground, and it took a moment for him to realise he wasn’t dreaming. Because he had dreams of this. In the rare moments he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open, his mind would either take him back to your fall or fabricate the moment you woke up. But wherever his dreams took him, he would always wake up with the tight ache of guilt constricting his chest. His waking moments he would spend thinking about what he would say to you if you woke up, planning out a meticulously crafted apology, but everything he wanted to say instantly flew out the window upon actually seeing you awake. 

“Hi…” you whispered, voice still raspy from disuse. And it was your weary, worn smile that tore at the chains around his soul. He couldn’t respond, as if he were the one who’d been lying unconscious for the last two weeks. 

Jean, sensing the tension in the room, stood from her crouched position by your wing, clearing her throat a little before tucking the clipboard flat against the crook of her elbow. 

“I’ll be back in a bit to check up on you and bring you some food.” She murmured, but you barely acknowledged her exit, too fixated on Logan’s expression of disbelief. 

The doors closed as Jean took her leave, blanketing the two of you in a charged silence, the both of you waiting for the other to talk first. 

“Logan I–”

“I’m so sorry, it–”

So naturally, of course, you both spoke at the same time, before falling into another equally uncomfortable silence, once again stuck in the purgatory of waiting for the other. You held your tongue this time, nodding to him with the smallest movement of your head. 

“You’re okay…” he breathed, almost to himself, as if having to remind himself again that this wasn’t in fact a dream. You were awake. You were talking. You weren’t lying lifeless with only the steady beeping of medical equipment to keep him company. Your eyes were open, looking at him with something he was struggling to discern through his addled mind. 

“I’m okay,” you responded softly, watching his features morph from self-hatred to pure relief. He shifted in his seat, head hanging low between his shoulders as he took a shaky breath, and you could see the slight shudder of his shoulders.

“I–” he started, before cutting himself off with a sharp inhale, clamping his teeth together as he struggled to raise his head again. “I thought I lost you.”

Whilst it was nothing but the softest admission, you felt spiderwebs crack through your heart, wanting nothing more than to reach for him, if only your bones didn’t feel like lead. He continued to keep his head low, his hands wringing together between his knees. “It was ’my fault. I didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t shake em and they were closin’ in and Scott wasn’t fuckin’ listenin’ an’–”

“Logan,” you interrupted as loud as you could, your throat tearing at the sudden strain on your voice, causing you to wince slightly. Your hiss of discomfort finally prompted him to raise his head, half standing from his seat to instantly be by your side should you need anything. “I’m okay. Or, I will be. My wings’ve seen worse, and my body will heal with time. I’m okay.”

He searched your face for any sign of deception, any indication that you were just saying this to spare his feelings, or stop him from spiralling into the well of self-hatred once again. He knew it wasn’t the time to ask, but his mind subconsciously filed away that nugget of your past for a later conversation, too focused on the fact his search came up short of anything he was looking for. 

“You’re okay…” he repeated, settling back into the chair by your bed. His eyes fell to your twitching hand, and with a gentleness only reserved for you, his fingers intertwined with yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You’re okay.”

Your heart skipped a beat or several, and you were mildly concerned about setting off the heart rate monitor your abdomen was connected to. You don’t think you’d ever had this many wires connected to your body in your life, not even when Charles first found you. Nobody knows what had happened that day apart from him, and you refused to speak of it. 

“What do you remember?” Logan asked, pressing the back of your hand against the scruff of his cheek, as if desperate to feel you. Your brows furrowed for a moment, your quick trip down trauma lane before you opened your eyes yielding nothing of much use.

“I remember the drones and the targeting dots. I remember one… fired, I think, and missed,” you struggled, screwing your eyes shut in a vain attempt to jog your own memory.  “Uh– then there were two more? One missed and the other exploded before it hit me, but I was caught up in the blast radius. I remember falling and I remember the pain, but that’s about it…” You opened your eyes to find Logan’s expression have shifted once again back to remorse. He really thought it was his fault… didn’t he? “I couldn’t get them off me, Lo’.” You offered quietly.

“I know.”

“I wouldn’t be here if Scott hadn’t fired.”

“I… I know.”

“Logan, you saved my life.”

He placed your hand back on the bed, and you instantly missed the warmth of his palm. “I almost got you killed. I almost lost you. We could have worked somethin’ else out. Storm could’ve–”

“And what if she couldn’t?” You prompted gently, your brows creasing with empathy as you watched him try to wade through the implications of your question. 

“That’s not– I almost–”

“Almost, Logan. Almost. But you didn’t. I’m here. So please stop acting like I’m dead because I might start believing you.” You tried to sound as stern as you could whilst being physically and emotionally drained, and whilst it may have sounded a little weak, Logan knew what you were trying to do. 

He ran a hand through his messy hair which was in desperate need of a wash. Although so were you, you could only imagine. “I didn’t want our last conversation to be an argument.” He murmured, and you sighed as heavily as you could whilst not being able to inhale very deeply. 

“So melodramatic,” you joked with a half-smile, and it took a moment of his eyes scanning your face before his shoulders slumped, huffing a singular laugh through crooked lips. 

“Maybe a little…” he looked up at you through lidded eyes. “Fear doesn’t come naturally t’me. But I don’t think I’ve been more scared than when I was watchin’ you fall, knowin’ I could do nothin’.” 

You finally mustered the strength to reach for him, and he clasped your outstretched hand between both of his like a prayer. You considered for a moment what you would have done had your roles been swapped. If you were so helpless to save him from almost certain death. If you were forced to watch in nearly slow motion as the object of your heart was being ripped away from you and you were powerless against it. Because this was something more than a crush, more than admiration. You loved him. It wasn’t a sudden lightbulb moment, but rather a slow realisation of admission. You loved him. Irrevocably. Possibly irresponsibly. But certainly undeniably. 

“You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m not dead. I’m not going to die. It’s gonna take time, but I’m okay. And I’m going to be okay.” You implored, and you could almost watch the cogs turning in his head, working on believing you and realising the truth of the situation. 

You. Were. Alive.

He nodded silently, finally accepting what everyone had been trying to tell him for almost a week and a half now. His thumb grazed the tendons of your wrist, the delicate caress sending shivers down your scarred spine. 

“How’re you feeling?” He asked though he couldn’t help thinking it was the most stupid question in the world. 

“Like I just fell over two hundred feet after being blown up.” You responded dryly. Ask obvious questions, get obvious answers. 

Obviously. 

“That checks out.”

“Thank you, Doctor Wolverine.”

How you’d managed to almost die and yet maintain your humour was a mystery to Logan, but it simply added to all the reasons he was completely taken with you. You were easily one of the strongest people he knew, in spite of your own self-consciousness. The way you felt about your wings had already proven that. They were the greatest source of your diffidence, and yet you often said how incomplete you would feel without them. He saw how you battled, every day, between loving and hating them. Not many people did, but he did. 

Perhaps that was because, to him, you were the focal point of every conversation. The spotlight in the room. The brightest star in the sky. Not only did he see you, but he saw you. 

That was when he remembered your words from earlier. ‘My wings’ve seen worse…’   

“What did you mean?”

“When?”

“When you said your wings have been worse. What did you mean?” 

Logan knew he’d struck a nerve when your wry humour dissolved from your face, and he watched you withdraw back into your own mind, another silence creating a barrier between you. It was another mental battle. He could see it. And he could only hazard a guess that you were struggling between opening yourself up to whatever traumas you’d experienced in the past, or staying closed and comfortable. 

“This world is cruel and cold to people like us…” your voice was barely audible, and despite his enhanced hearing, Logan found himself shifting closer, drawn in by your siren’s whisper. “I was always jealous of people who could hide their mutation. Or mutations that didn’t take on a physical appearance, anyway. Because hiding something like phasing or shapeshifting is easy. Hiding a pair of giant fucking wings? Get’s a little harder when not everyone around you is very accepting…” you were being vague on purpose. Taking yourself back to the day Charles found you was never easy, and it was this exact reason why you kept this to yourself. Only he knew what happened, and Jean was the only other one who’d seen your condition. 

Logan fought the urge to run his fingers through your feathers, slightly worried it would hurt you more than it would soothe you, since most of your secondary feathers had been burned away or torn off, and the exposed ligaments had been covered in bandages. You took a breath before you continued. “The neighbourhood where I lived wasn’t exactly high-end, and less than welcoming to mutants. I used to listen to a lot of music when I left my apartment, it helped to drown out the insults and hatred but uh, it also prevented me from hearing anyone following me.

“It was stupid. I was tired and forgot to lock my fucking door before I fell asleep that night. Such an idiot. And I paid the price. I can’t really remember exactly when it happened, and it’s all sort of a blur to be honest. I never saw their faces either, and I only knew they were there when they shoved a gag between my teeth and held me down, jeering about me being a disgusting mutant, the usual bullshit…” you trailed off, your words sticking to your throat like molasses as you recounted possibly the most traumatic moment of your life. Narrowly holding the top spot after recent events. “They uh, tried to sever them. My wings. Used a carving knife or a paring knife, hell it could have been a butter knife for all I knew. But it hurt. And I couldn’t fight them off. I probably still have the scars. They were barely attached by the time they were startled by something and took off.”

Logan placed his hand against your cheek, gently smoothing away the stray tear sliding down the side of your face with the pad of his thumb. 

“That’s why you don’t sleep on your front?”

“That’s why I don’t sleep on my front,” You affirmed with a timid nod, and Logan felt his heart clench painfully. He always wondered where your intense passion for making the world a safer place came from. “At least,” you continued quietly. “Until you.”

His eyes widened a fraction, and it wasn’t hard to piece together what you meant. The night, two days before the mission. That was the first time you’d slept on your front since Charles and Jean found you all those years ago. That was why you mentioned it. That was why you were so adamant about it. 

Your vulnerability was taken advantage of and used to further the cycle of hatred and violence. 

“Sweetheart…” 

You couldn’t bear to hear the slight break in his voice, the horrified empathy creasing his brows. “So yeah. That’s what I meant. When I said they’ve been through worse. So actually, this really isn’t all that bad. They’ll recover. They did last time. Might be a while before I can fly again but I think I’m okay with that for a while, not sure I want to–” your rambling was cut short by the sudden decrease of proximity between the two of you. Was he always this close? Or had he shifted? Had you simply not noticed? Too lost in your second trip down trauma lane in the space of twenty minutes? You could feel his steady breaths fanning your cheeks.

“You’re safe. With me. An’ nothin’ like that will ever happen again. ‘M gonna look after you, angel. Promise.” His eyes flickered from your gaze, down to your lips, and back up in a silent request, and your body answered for you. Your eyes fluttered closed, heart igniting at the first graze of his soft lips against yours, the pain in your back forgotten as your skin prickled with shivers. 

The moment he felt you lean up into him as much as you could, Logan gasped through his nose, his fingers skirting up the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse before continuing to brace his palm against your jaw. He wanted to feel you, in any way he could and in any way you would let him, your lips dancing with his languidly. And through the salves and disinfectant, through the blood and the grease, the smoke clinging to your hair, he could just smell you. Amber and wood oak swirled through his senses, and he didn’t think it fair that you smelled like a fucking autumnal forest. 

You tried to push yourself up further toward him, a fresh wave of yearning hitting you like a fall from over two hundred feet, but your ribs barked in sharp protest, and you flinched back with a harsh hiss, your features scrunching in pain.

“Easy there, angel. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” He breathed, and whilst you could detect genuine concern in his tone, there was also a hint of smug satisfaction.

“Sorry… got kinda carried away.” You clamped your lips together at his soft chuckle, finding immeasurable comfort in the way his thumb smoothed along your under-eye.”

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while…” He murmured against your lips, and you drew back as far as you could without jostling your back too much.

“Really? How long?”

“Round a year or so.”

You blanched. “A year!?”

“Give or take a few months,” he shrugged, unable to tame the delicious grin pulling at his lips. 

“And you didn’t think to do anything?” You asked incredulously, eyes flicking between his, unable to decide just where they wanted to settle. 

“Inappropriate in the workplace.” He shrugged nonchalantly, and your eyes widened further. 

“We live under the same roof! This isn’t just a workplace.”

“Potato pot-ah-to.”

“No! Potato potato. It’s the same thing!”

He raised a sly brow. “Didn’t see ya pull back, angel. How long’ve you wanted this then?”

You clamped your lips shut, your face a picture of false irritation as he turned your own accusations back onto you, a triumphant glint dancing in his eye. “Thought s’much.”

A huff brushed his chin, though you couldn’t tame your guilty smile for long. Yes, he was absolutely right. You’d wanted to do that for far longer than you cared to admit. And the phrase ‘good things come to those who wait’ couldn’t ring more true. Though you couldn’t help thinking they should change the phrase slightly. 

‘Good things come to those who nearly die’. Yeah, that sounded more accurate. 

Your head lulled against his hand, a tugging wave of exhaustion pulling at your mind, your eyes feeling heavy with sleep. It was strange. Usually, you found it so difficult to find rest, tossing and turning until you simply couldn’t take it anymore. But not in his presence. Not when Logan was with you. 

He hummed a soft, fond smile of understanding, pulling the chair closer to the bed so he could still be near you. Pressing his lips to your forehead, you sighed in contentment, your hand holding his arm in a soft grip, silently asking him not to go anywhere. But you didn’t need to. He had no plans on leaving you anytime soon. 

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.”

[igotanidea]

Coke and disappointment: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!, friends to lovers, bad date on reader's part

Summary: when a date goes wrong, who's better to talk to if not a best friend. Even if that best friend happens to secretly have feelings for you and the complaining may actually push him over the edge...

A/N: sorry for the typos and mistakes, no time to proofread :D I'll fix it later :D

***

He was a fool.

A stupid, idiotic fucker who was too stubborn to speak up.

Too scared to tell the girl he liked that he liked her.

And now he was about to lose her.

Jason let out a shaky exhale, feeling his heart shutter at the thought she was about to move on with her life and leave him alone. Again. And then he punched the wall in a poor attempt at transforming that sadness into rage.

Rage was easier and he knew how to navigate it.

He took in the surroundings of his apartment, a little cluttered and shabby, but still it was the place he called his. Just last night she was casually lunging on his couch, texting on her phone with that stupid smile that always made his heart melt.

She was texting him. That other guy who obviously did not deserve her.  HE could have been the prince charming himself, be a gentleman with the look, but in Jason’s opinion he did not deserve her.

She was so close on that stupid couch.

So close.

All he had to do was take one step forward, take the phone from her hands and fucking tell her how he felt.

And then she jumped in the air, laughing and spinning around, proudly announcing she had a date.

And suddenly she was not so close anymore. Almost like those three words made a mountain grow between them.

A mountain, a sea, a valley and a desert.

His words died in his throat and he just smirked, throwing his usual meaningly funny comment and shut his heart once more.

And now he was spread on the same couch she was yesterday, with a bottle of beer in his hand, thinking stupid thoughts.

***

“Are you drinking without me?” the door swung open and Y/n walked inside like she owned the place, almost immediately heading towards the fridge and grabbing herself a bottle of cola zero.

“The hell Y/N? The hell you’re doing here?!”

“Can’t I just pop in at my friend’s place?” she raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her drink.

“Oh, no, you know what, by all means come in at any time. What if I was with someone?” Jason hissed in response, moving on the couch to make space for her.

“Well then, if so, you should remember to close the door.  As much as I wouldn’t mind the show, I’m pretty sure the girl you’ll be taking advantage of would not be delighted with an onlooker.”

“You’re disgusting Y/N.” Jason sighed with a hint of a smirk.

“But I’m not wrong, am I?” she grinned and poked his ribs playfully.

“No. No you are not.”

“Yeah…”

That yeah coming from her was supposed to be said in a funny tone, but came out a little desperate, the silence that fell after only added to that sensation.

“Hey Y/n/n?”

“Hm?”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“You know what.” Jason frowned and cupped her chin making her look at him

“That little failure of something that I already romanticized in my head before?”

“Yeah. About that.”

“Actually, yes, let’s talk about it. Maybe you can tell me what is wrong with today’s men.”

“Oh, shit talking the fucker that clearly made you upset. I’m game.” Jason stood up gathering another beer and coke from the fridge, getting ready for the long conversation. “Do tell.” With the force he jumped back on the couch, Y/N flew a few inches in the air.

“He came late.” She started and Jason booed “he was dressed as if it was a beach or something. And then he took me to the park—”

“Hopefully those punches and moves I taught you helped?”

“Right, cause we were fighting squirrels.” Y/N rolled her eyes “come on, be serious, it was the middle of the day in a public place. Using those punches will only make me get attention to myself. I settled on the good old kick in the groin.

Jason laughed. It was obvious the meeting did not go well.

“He was only talking about himself. Like all the time. Never once asking a thing about me.”

“You could have started talking yourself. I’m pretty sure the fucker had to make breaks for breathing?”

“Actually, I’m starting to believe he’s that one parasite that scientists discovered and that does not.”

“A parasite huh?”

“Pretty much so.”

“So, he took you to the café?”

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“Nope.”

“Wait, you’re serious!?” Jason turned abruptly to meet her eyes. “So the hell were you two doing?”

“Walking in the park?” Y/N raised an eyebrow “just told you?”

“For two hours?! How big was this fucking park?”

“Well….” Her gaze traveled lower and she started fidgeting with her fingers.

“What else?”

“Nothing.”

“What else, Y/N?” Jason almost groaned in frustration.

“At some point we took a turn and had to literally bush-bash.”

“No!” much to her surprise Jason started guffawing

“Hey, stop laughing! It was not funny! I had a dress!”

“Oh, poor little you.” He cackled even harder. “You don’t really want my opinion on that so-called “date” do you?”

“Of course not. I’m not exactly blind to red flags. I just wanted to vent.”

“You can be blind to red flags sometimes.” Jason muttered, quickly drowning the words with the sip of a drink.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’re spending time with me, instead with one of your girlfriends.”

“I don’t have girlfriends and your red flags are the reason why you are my friend and why there would never be anything else.”

Ouch. That was like a punch to the guts.

“What if there was?” he blurted without thinking, only because the bottle turned out empty and he couldn’t swallow the bile.

“What--?” with a broken word and the way her eyes focused on his face, Jason knew there was no going back. It was now or never.

“What if there was Y/N? What if there was something more…?” with a gentle touch he grabbed her coke and put it on the nearby table, instead intertwining their fingers. “What if—”

“Jason, don’t—”

“Don’t tell me to stay in the shadows while you keep dating men that can’t even take you for coffee!” he yelled and it made her stumble backwards, letting go of his hands. “Fuck! Why can’t you see it?!

“See what…?”

“You deserve –” he started, but she cut him off.

“No. No, don’t you dare tell me that I deserve someone better. I don’t really see men lining up for me” Y/N chuckled dryly “I’m not a teen anymore, soon my expiration date will come and –“

“Shut up!” he hissed, in a blink of an eye finding himself on the other side of the couch, his eyes boring a hole into her face, his hands aching to do so many things… “You deserve more than a mindless stroll in the park, not that the walk itself is a bad thing. You deserve to be spoiled and –“

“Please don’t…”

“If anything more, you at least deserve a good orgasm.” He groaned, unable to control himself anymore, eyes filled with lust and unspoken promises of pleasure.

She was so close. Once again. Only now, he wasn’t going to cross the line. It was her choice. If she wanted to walk out and close the door on him – fine. This would hurt like hell, but eventually Jason would get over it.

But it was her choice and there was no way he would take advantage of her.

As if making her hot and bothered with the look in his eyes, the closeness and the heat from his presence and words was not taking advantage.

***

Y/N was lost only for a second.

It’s been so long since she’s been touched. So long since she felt anyone in that way. And her body needed it.

God knows she needed it.

And she had no power to swim against the tide, grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him.

***

Jason reacted instinctively.

His strong hands moved to her waist, pulling her on top of him, starting to grind against her, even through their clothes.

He was going to make her feel so good.

So fucking good, taking her to the places she’s never been before.

Only for her. Just for her.

Her.

Now not only in his thoughts and crazy fantasies, but in flesh and bone in his arms, on his couch, pliant and needy for attention.

“Jason….” His lips moved from her lips to her neck, brushing over her pulse point.

“Jason…” his hands rolled her dress up until it was on her waist.

“Jason…” the word became hoarse and breathy when he lifted her up so she was now straddling him.

And he was only just beginning.

Teasing her with one finger, pulling her panties away, feeling the wetness already seeping on his jeans. She was so ready for him just from a few touches. How touch starved and neglected she must have been if just a little foreplay was enough?

“You’re mine tonight…” he groaned into her ear. “Mine. Say it Y/N…”

“Yours…” she whimpered, shuddering at the way his index finger inched closer to her heat.

“Yeah. Mine.” For Jason it felt just right to call her his.

“Please….”

“Not yet baby.”

“Don’t be mean… You promised me—”

“A good time. And that’s exactly what you’ll get. But not like that.”

“Then what—Ah!”

Her cry of surprise tore the air as he grabbed her by the waist, lifted her in the air and carried towards the bedroom, miraculously avoiding all the stuff on the floor. Once in the room, with one hand around her, he threw the cover alongside every little thing on it onto the floor, making quite a noise. But what was a little background mess in comparison to the passion they were both experiencing right now.

They were clearly not friends now, but it was not important.

All the labels, unanswered questions and doubts left their heads as fast as their clothes started flying in all the directions. Bra on the lamp, boxers on the bedpost, shirt on the floor, a mess of clothes in the foot of the bed.

They didn’t care.

All that mattered at that moment was his lips on hers, her hands in his hair, the way his fingers kept pumping in and out of her prepping her for what was coming and the smell of her arousal in the air.

And those moans of pleasure that hit his ear made him hard enough to drill through the concrete.

“So wet…” he muttered

“So good!” she cried out arching her back, turning into a wanton, a bitch, not caring in the slightest about losing control. It felt good to just let go.

“Yeah?” he breathed out pulling fingers out of her, now coated with her juices. “Good?” Jason made sure to trace them up her body, spreading wetness on her stomach, her breasts with those deliciously pert nipples just begging to be abused and finally on her mouth. As if knowing she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from licking those plump red lips in a motion that was both innocent and obscene. “I'll show you good…”

With a groan, almost losing control, he spread her legs, hovering over her, leaning so close that his breath was hitting her face and his chest pressed against her breasts creating unbearable friction.

“Jason… Jason, please…” she squirmed, arched, begged and pleaded.

“I’ll give you everything you need…” he promised, leaning on forearms, slowly pushing inside her, mindful of every expression on her face. Only upon making sure she was feeling the pleasure and not the pain, his eyes moved lower, watching his cock disappear in her.

The dirty look that once again shuttered the fundamentals of his self-control.  

“More!” she cried out, closing eyes, grabbing his shoulders, earning a groan from him.

“Fuckin more!”

There was no interim between bottoming out and adjusting to his size and frenzied pace of lovemaking. They just went from 0 to 100 in a blink of an eye.

He was gripping the headrest, too scared to touch her body In fear he’ll break her from the force. His forearms were straining from the power in those strong arms and Y/N knew he could snap her like a branch. Instead, somewhere deep inside that lust filled brain, he was still focused on her well being and safety.

Not that she could say the same about the way his cock was thrusting. Pulling in and out of her like she was made out of a rubber, shaping her to his girth, making sure to leave the memories of that night not only in her brain but also gouging the flutes on her pussy. For she was his.

Crying out his name

Touching him.

Letting him feel that tight wetness groping him like a vice.

So fucking tight only proving the point that she didn’t get nearly enough sex as she deserved.

“Tell me-“ he gasped, leaning his forehead on hers with sweaty hair clinging to it “How many times before you’ve came-“

“I – I don’t – I can’t-„ she cried out when he lifted her hips, changing the angle hitting deeper, harder, more intensely, effectively silencing all the thoughts. All she could focus on then was matching his pace, keeping that delicious stretch going, igniting the friction, running hands all over his back, holding him tight enough to not fly out into space right away.

“Tell me baby. I need you to say it.” He muttered between ragged breath, feeling his own release knocking at the door more and more stridently.

“Ne- never!” she cried out “Please!”

“Cum for me sweetheart.” He whispered in her ear with the silent promise of catching her and keeping her safe.

And he knew she believed him when her sobs, cries and gasps of climax filled the room, completing the scent of sex with the sound of pleasure.

Perfection incarnated in the form of a sin.

***

“Go on a date with me…”

Once they both came out from their high, laying side by side in the bed-

Once he dared to let out that soft side of his feelings, tracing circles on her sensitive body –

Once the arousal and horniness was gone-

There was no regret. No oh-my-god-what-have-we-done moment.

In fact, in some crazy way, it all seemed natural. Like both Jason and Y/N knew that it was bound to happen and their sex was not an accident or a mistake.

But a date?

“I’m serious, Y/N. Go on a date with me.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“It’s not about owing, baby. I want it. To be able to hold your hand in public, to beat to pulp every single guy that comes too close to you. To kiss you under the moonlight. To walk you home after and come upstairs just to cuddle on the couch together.”

“You sure?” she teased, laying her upper body on top of his, looking into his eyes with a happy smile “that would ruin your reputation as a cold and heartless motherfucker.”

"Some people are worth sacrificing like that…”

“Must be someone special.” Y/N whispered, her heart fluttering at the sensitivity Jason was expressing now.

“She is. A one in the million.” He tangled fingers in her hair, unable to tear his eyes from her naked form next to him.

The happiest fucker in the universe.

And to think she came to his place only to have a coke and complain about a bad date.

Coke and disappointment turning into a chance at a relationship.  

[tpwk-formula1]

Holy sh*t, how did you make your menu look that amazing?! I'm in awe no joke. So this is gonna be rough, brace with me (my english sucks.) So could i order a deep dish pizza with alfredo sauce, basil, banana peppers, spinach, roasted mushrooms, goat cheese, eggplant and Oregano. (Damn thats a lot oop-. Kind of sounds disgusting IRL but we dont judge.) With a sprite, Truly and a mojito plus a little dessert. Served by Oliver Bearman please? Thank youuuu <3 (its okay if you're too busy for this)

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

deep dish teammates to lovers alfredo sweet sex basil "I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy" banana peppers "Look so pretty riding my cock" spinach "Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock" roasted mushroom “Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy” goat cheese "Look so pretty like this" eggplant "Are you sure you want me to take it baby?" oregano "Please, let me cum in you" sprite size kink truly belly bulge mojito loss of virginity dessert yes served by Ollie Bearman

TW - virginity loss. unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, sweet/ slow sex

WC 2100+

Y/N POV

"Have you seen Kimi?" I ask Dino since he was the first personal I saw when I ended into the F3 part of the Paddock.

"No, why would he be here?" Dino asks me laughing slighly at the panic in my voice.

"It's Kimi he ends up wherever he pleases," I respond back with a soft laugh falling from my lips making Dino nod in aggreeance.

"I'll catch you later! Good luck later," I call out to Dino as I speed walk away from the F2 paddock and towards the F1 paddock to try and find my best friend.

"Oh thank god, can you tell Kimi to come here," I say to George when I stop him outside of the Mercedes hospitality where he had told me Kimi was in there.

"Just come with me! I'm sure he's in his little drivers room," George tells me making me nod and follw him into the hosipitality where he found Kimi in his room.

"I need to talk to you, I'm freaking out," I tell him once I closed the door behind me.

"What's got you freaking out?" KImi asks as he set his phone down.

"I lied to Oillie, and now the lie is hitting me in the face," I reply back.

"Okay drop the cryptic messages you're not Taylor Swift what the fuck is going on?" Kimi asks clearly getting frustrated.

"I never told Ollie I was a virgin and I turn all his advances down but not he's convinced I don't want to be with him and I don't know how to fix this," I quickly tell Kimi while paces the small space.

"Just tell him. You have him stressed. Came in here acting the same fucking way. Like you guys were made for eahc other. Just be honest," Kimi tells me softly when we hear a knock on the door.

"Love, I know you're in there," Ollie calls out makig me look at Kimi with wide eyes not ready to tell him right in this moment.

"I got to go," Kimi says with a smirk getting out of bed and opening the door for Ollie and letting us have a moment alone.

"What's been going on?" Ollie asks getting straight to the point.

"Ollie I love you I swear and I want to be with you but I'm scared," I say softly making Ollie look at me with a raised brow clearly needing more information.

"I'm- I- I've never had sex and I thought I could keep it a secret from you but then everytime we get close to doing anything more than oral I freak out," I tell him softly while looking at my hands.

I feel Ollie step towards me and take my hands into his while he tells me to look at him.

"Love, I've known you were a virgin since the moment I touched you," Ollie admits softly making me look up at him with a raised brow.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I ask back making Ollie laugh a little.

"I think that's something you're supposed to tell me. I never wanted to push the subject but I couldn't have sex with you until you told me which is why I prentended to think you were lying to me about something," Ollie admits that this was all a set up basically.

"You set me up to admit that I was a virgin?" I ask with a raised brow making Ollie laugh and nod his head.

"It worked, didn't it. I'm in no way trying to rush sex, I just couldn't have sex with you until you admitted it. Now we can have a conversation about everything when the time comes," Ollie tells me softly while pulling me into his arms and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Soon," I respond back against his lips letting him know my timeline.

"There's no rush," Ollie responds back then places a kiss on my forehead.

Over the following few days I think about Ollie and I sleeping together more and more before I finally decided I was ready.

“Ollie I wanna do it tonight,” I tell him softly as we lay in his apartment.

“Are you sure? We’re in no kind of rush love,” Ollie tells me softly making me smile and nod my head.

“I’m ready and I wanna share that part of me with you,” I tell him softly making him smile.

“Tonight,” he tells me with a kiss to the forehead as we relax back into the couch and enjoy the random movie he had thrown on.

As the rest of the day passes I get progressively more nervous at the thought of sleeping with Ollie but there's a bigger part of me that's more excited.

When we climb into bed for the night I pull myself into Ollie's lap and start kissing his lips leading the way as much as my confidence will allow me.

"Are you sure you want me to take it baby?" Ollie asks as I start grinding down on his lap whimpering at the pleasure coursing through my body.

"Please Ollie! I only want it to be you," I tell him softly while stopping my grinding and looking Ollie in the eye.

"Okay, we'll go at your pace," Ollie tells me while pulling me back into another kiss while he starts pulling my shirt off leaving me in a pair of cotton panties.

"So beautiful," Ollie announces as he lets his eyes rake over my bare body.

"Ollie, please," I whine grinding down more feeling Ollie start to grow under me.

"Fuck, love," Ollie groans. I start pulling off Ollie's shirt with his help leaving him in just a pair of briefs.

Ollie flips us over leaving my back pressed against the mattress as Ollie is hoovering over me leaving wet kisses all over my neck and collarbones.

"Are you sure love?" Ollie confirms once again making me nod my head.

"Yes, I've never been so sure," I tell Ollie making him smile softly. This my final consent Ollie pulls off my panties and licks a strip from my dripping hole to my sensitive clit making me moan rather loudly when I feel his tongue graze my clit.

"Fuck, such a sweet little thing," Ollie says before he dives in and starts eating me out like a mad man.

"Fuck," I cry getting overwhelmed with the pleasure rather quickly. Ollie starts to slip 2 fingers deep into my pussy making me whimper at the stretch.

While Ollie and I had done a lot together feeling him slip his fingers into my pussy knowing he was soon gonna be slipping his cock into me the pleasure is far more overwhelming.

"Fuck, feel so good around my fingers," Ollie whispers while fingering me trying to prep me as much as possible to take his cock.

"I'm ready, please," I whine when I feel my orgasm start to build knowing I wanted to cum around Ollie's cock and not his fingers.

"Fuck, okay," Ollie says clearly showing some of his nerves.

"Oliver, love. Are you sure you are ready? You seem really nervous," I ask softly with a smile making Ollie look at me with hooded eyes.

"Yes, just don't want to hurt you," Ollie admits softly.

"Love, it's gonna hurt a bit no matter what, but I'm ready and I want you," I reassure once again while pulling him closer.

Ollie finally relaxes at my touch and starts to pull his boxers off.

"Fuck, baby I don't have any protection. I probably should have got some after our conversation a few days ago but I forgot. I can run to the corner store really quick," Ollie says once his boxers were pulled off.

"It's okay! I'm on birth control," I tell him softly while pulling him closer not caring about protection in this very moment.

"Ollie, I need it right now, please," I beg. Ollie just groans when he realizes how desperate I was.

"Fuck, okay," Ollie groans as he starts teasing my clit with his hard cock.

Seeing Ollie from this angle makes me realize how massive his cock truly is.

"Fuck, you're so big," I whine out when I feel the tip of his cock poking around my virgin hair.

"I'll be gentle I promise," Ollie grunts while slowly starting to push into me.

"Fuck Ollie," I cry out as the pain started to wash over him. Ollie completely stops all of his movements giving me some time to adjust before he starts pushing in again.

"Ollie," I whine when I feel him finally bottom out.

"Too big," I gasp trying to let my body relax.

"Look so pretty like this," Ollie groans out as he starts teasing my clit trying to get me to relax further so he could start rocking his hips.

"Fuck Ollie," I moan when the pain starts to fade and is replaced by an overwhelming pleasure. Ollie takes this as encouragement because he starts rocking his hips slowly trying to get me to adjust fulling to his size.

"Please, faster," I moan which instantly has Ollie thrusting into my soaked pussy while still teasing my clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant while growing closer to my orgasm.

“Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy,” Ollie grunts out which has me looking down to see the bulge he had created in my tummy from his cock.

"Fuck Ollie, fucking massive," I moan while pushing down on the bulge in my tummy making the pleasure become overwhelming and instantly cumming all over Ollie's cock with a shout.

"Fuck," I cry while Ollie continues to fuck me through my orgasm.

Ollie starts slowing his thrusts down not wanting to overwhelm me which gives me an idea.

"I wanna ride you," I admit softly which has Ollie looking at me shocked.

"I'm serious Oliver, I want to ride your dick right now," I tell him seriously so he knows I want it.

"Fuck," Ollie grunts while softly slipping out of my soaked pussy and laying down on his back next to me. I climb into his lap and grind my soaked pussy on his hard cock watching as the pleasure starts coursing through his eyes. I lean up slightly while gripping his cock and angling it at my pussy before I slowly start to sink down.

"Fuck," I moan when I feel him stretching me out at a new angle.

"Fuck, feels so good," I moan when I'm fully seated on his cock with little to no pain.

"Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock," Ollie grunts out as I start bouncing slightly on his cock.

"So good," I cry out as I start bouncing a bit faster as Ollie is thrusting up into me making the pleasure almost unbearable.

I continue fucking down onto his cock while he fucks up into my pussy bringing to closer to the edge again.

"Look so pretty riding my cock," Ollie grunts out which makes me start bouncing faster chasing my orgasm.

"Ollie, I'm close," I moan making Ollie lift my hips slightly and start thrusting into my pussy at a fast pace bringing me over the edge with a shout.

"Ollie," I moan while my legs instantly give out on me but Ollie holds me up and keeps fucking up into me.

"Fuck I'm close. Please, let me cum in you," Ollie grunts out making me look at him and nod softly.

"Cum in me Ollie, please. Wanna feel your cum deep in me," I say which instantly has Ollie's thrusts shudder slightly before he starts filling me up with his hot cum.

"Fuck," Ollie grunts while riding out his orgasm. Once he's started to come down he turns up over once again so he's hoovering over me before he slowly slips his cock out of me watching his cum start to leak from me.

"I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy," Ollie says softly before leaning down and kissing me forehead and climbing out of the bed.

"Why are you leaving me?" I ask softy instantly getting upset with Ollie leaving.

"Just gonna get you some water and a rag to clean you up," Ollie tells me softly while leaning down and pulling me in for a quick kiss.

I watch Ollie disappear out of his bedroom and into another room to get me water while going into the bathroom after and grabbing a warm rag before coming back into the room and instantly wiping me down.

"I'm sorry," Ollie whispers when I whine at his touch clearly too overstimulated.

"I love you Ollie," I tell him softly when he climbs back into the bed.

"I love you too," Ollie replies back pulling me into his chest and letting me relax into his warm embrace.

[charlottes-diary-entries]

Hello love! I absolutely adore your writing, I was wondering if maybe you could do a poly!mauraders x reader where maybe the reader got injured somehow (maybe quditch?) and the mauraders are like all worried and stuff? Totally fine if you don’t want to do it, I just got injured at my competition and I’m feeling sorry for myself 😂

baby i feel your self-pity, i hate getting benched from injuries!! it's the total worst and i hope you heal quickly, but in the mean time here's something special! it turned more into an independent reader struggling with being worried over, but i hope you enjoy darling. <3

CW: injuries, but thats about it <3

The sound of the students in the stands could only be described as a frightening roar during the match. Through some drizzling rain, Gryffindors and Slytherins had poured out of their common rooms by the dozens to witness the match, which had become increasingly intense.

Foul plays from Slytherins, attempts at similar plays from Gryffindor (which James shut down immediately with a reprimanding and a few threats of what practice would become should such poor sportsmanship continue). You had dodged more ill-aimed bludgers than you could count, and as the wind picked up and the rain got heavier, it was all you could do to stay on your broom.

And at some point, even that became unmanageable.

You could have sworn you'd just blinked and suddenly the noise in your ears increased ten-fold, deafening you, and there were these horrible stars in your eyes.

Then you were on the ground, and there were lots and lots of people around you, and you couldn't really see right, and-

"Shit, shit, shit, love! Shit!"

Was that James?

"What happened? What the fuck happened? Was this one of the snakes, because I swear to fuck-"

Sirius?

They kept shouting, until someone else (a professor?) was shouting at them to quiet down. A lot of movement, fuzzy, dizzying movement, then someone was picking you up and suddenly falling asleep felt like a very, very nice idea.

"No, no, no dove, stay up for us, yeah? I don't- Maybe falling asleep isn't a good idea okay?"

Ah, so Remus was carrying you. You tried to lift a hand to your eyes, to hide from the light, or hide from Remus, or something, but you could barely feel your hand. Scratch that, your entire arm felt like it'd been pulled clean off.

Tears began to slip down your cheeks because fuck, now that you thought about it, your head really, really hurt. Your whole body was burning in pain.

"Oh, don't cry dovey, please, don't cry, Madame Pomfrey'll fix you up so quick, you won't even know..."

You lost the rest of his sentence as you began to drift away. Not that you really wanted to, it just felt much, much easier than staying awake...

All that was what had landed you here, benched at Quidditch with a pair of sunglasses on, a nasty cast around your left arm, and what your boys had deemed a permanent frown that worsened by the minute.

You had woken from the concussion very early the next morning to find an extremely frantic Sirius at the foot of your bed. He kissed you and talked while Remus and James were both still asleep, holding hands as they sat by your bed. Apparently, Sirius couldn't sleep he was so worried about you.

(The conversation didn't get much further than that as Pomfrey entered and began to shoo off the boys. Poor Remus and James only got to give you quick "I Love You's" before being firmly ushered out.)

You had been on bed rest the entire day, Pomfrey also dealing with a freak accident from a first-year potions class. Several children with boils and fevers and a need for so much attention that Pomfrey could not spend time brewing fresh Skele-Gro for you, hence, the traditionally muggle healing methods on your arm. Her potion for your concussion was helping you heal faster, but damn did it make every light blinding.

James had determined you banned from Quidditch practice until you were fully healed. While you understood his reasoning, it did not mean you had to be happy about being benched.

"Lighten up please, darling, glaring at them isn't going to make your head better."

You turned to glower at Remus instead, who sat to your right and handed you a cauldron cake. He smiled brightly and bumped your shoulder before kissing your forehead. Your frown deepened immensely.

"Maybe so, but it's certainly making me feel better knowing they know how much I hate this."

"Am I really such horrid company?" Remus said, a cheeky grin on his face. You rolled your eyes (which definitely did not hurt your head) and turned back to watch James and Sirius fly about in the air. You leaned your head on his shoulder and shut your eyes.

"No," You began, "I just wish I could be up there."

Remus's grin dropped and he placed a kiss to your temple before leaning his head against yours.

"I know dove."

You watched them continue their drills in silence and you had begun to eat your treat when Remus spoke up again.

"Though, it is nice to have you for company. I finally have someone else to ogle the boys with."

At this you snorted, looking up again to follow James and Sirius in the air.

"Yeah, they are pretty hot when they do their thing, huh?"

"Very. Very hot."

"Please, Sirius, my arm's fine now, I can carry my own bags-"

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

Sirius held your books out of your reach with a grin and you huffed, crossing your arms as you both walked to potions. None of the boys had let you carry anything the past week, which was sweet and very gentlemanly of them, but quickly beginning to bother you. Especially as Pomfrey had had you up in the Medical Wing very quickly, choking down Skele-Gro so your arm could heal. Was your arm a tad weaker than normal? Yes! Did it make you a helpless doll? Absolutely not!

"I'm completely serious-"

"No, I am!"

"Siri!" You tried to glare at him, snatching at your bag which he expertly kept to himself. "I can carry my own books, really, I'm fine."

"Hmm..." Sirius stopped cold and began to study you, inspecting you from head to toe. He stepped closer, grabbing your chin, which in turn made you gasp a little bit and lose some of your bravado. He tilted your head each way before grabbing your freshly healed arm and staring it down. You went to interrupt when he slipped your hand into his own and began pulling you along.

"Since you want to hold something so bad, you get me until we say you're alright."

You scoffed as an awful grin grew on his face.

"This is ridiculous. It's almost been a week and still."

"Still what, dove?" A new voice popped up, and James sidled up beside the two of you, taking your other hand.

Your face warmed a little bit as he leaned over to place a kiss on your cheek, but you rolled your eyes and powered on.

"Still you're all coddling me. I mean, you have to let me back on my broom someday, James. Can't keep me benched forever."

At this he frowned, growing a little more serious. "Darling, you need rest to heal. You still need those glasses outside and I'd rather play it safe with you. Don't want you mucking up a solid week of getting better just cause you couldn't wait to be back on a broom. It'd make me a bad captain to let you do that, and an even worse boyfriend."

Again, you grumbled, trying to accept their caring as simply that; caring. He placed another kiss on your cheek and swung your hands back and forth as Sirius spoke up again.

"We don't get many chances to worry over you like this darling, let us baby you just this once? Pretty please?"

He flashed you horrid puppy-eyes as James squeezed your hand again. You rolled your eyes, feeling warmth spread throughout your cheeks and neck.

"Just- let's get to potions. Please."

Both boys grinned and began chattering away as you walked. Would it be so horrible to let them treat you for a while?

Yes. Yes, it would.

Because it would seem, after nearly two weeks of resting and healing spent half in your bed and entirely in the arms of your boyfriends, they still were unwilling to let you return to practice fully.

This thought irked you horribly as you sat, hovering on your broom like a first-year, doing slow laps around the quidditch field no more than a meter off the ground. You picked up your pace a little bit, beginning to feel a bit of wind on your face as you thought of how badly you wanted to be doing more.

"Oi, quit it."

The glare you sent James's way was burning with simmering frustration. You proceeded to stick your tongue out at him and cross your arms, as childish as it felt.

He merely frowned in response, turning to watch the rest of the team drilling catching and dodging with some quaffles. Even if he wanted to place all his attention on you, it would've been entirely unfair to the rest of the team. Sirius was also distracted, i.e., finding a little too much fun in their game of dodgeball. (He'd nearly given a keeper a black eye.) Remus was not there to watch today, instead spending his time studying for an upcoming exam.

With all eyes turned away from you, and this endless itch to actually, finally do something, slipping away was a very easy thing to do.

As you began to fly around the grounds of Hogwarts, shooting up into the sky and diving back down to pick up even more speed, you could've sworn the wind wasn't just whistling in your ears. It was whispering to you that slipping away was the right thing.

You whooped and hollered and laughed as you chased your way around the towers and over the Black Lake. You dared to let your hand fall and scrape the inky dark surface of the water, and the resulting splash endlessly delighted you. Eventually, you decided to settle your little escape under a tree by the shore.

A few pants escaped you as your lungs caught up with all you had just done. After, you'd relaxed for maybe another twenty minutes and it felt like nothing could wipe the smile off your face.

"Jesus, dove, there you are."

Alright, maybe nothing.

You turned to find Sirius landing his broom and jogging over to you, and your face slowly began to drop. He dropped to his knees next to you and gave you a cursory glance, and when he was happy with the state of you, relaxed against the tree as well.

The two of you sat in silence for a minute before you managed to speak up.

"I'm not sorry or anything. By the way. And I-" You glanced over to Sirius, before staring forward and plowing on, "I've appreciated you all caring and coddling me but I'm better and I'm sick of being sidelined and babied and- and-"

You looked at Sirius again to find him smiling at you, completely in love. There was so much care in his eyes that it caused you to stumble over your words and past your point completely.

"And... yeah."

Sirius only continued to smile at you. He then sighed a little and wrapped an arm around your waist to tug you into him.

"Sorry we've been babying you, gorgeous." He paired this with a kiss pressed to your temple. "We're just nervous about making sure you're okay."

"I'm okay. Believe me, I am okay now."

"I believe you, love."

"Good."

You relaxed against him and soaked up the day together. There were birds singing in the distance and a light breeze dancing across the grass. It felt peaceful. You turned your gaze to Sirius and pressed a loving kiss to his cheek.

"I do mean it, I appreciate you all worrying about me. Even if you don't need to so much anymore."

"Not a problem dovey," He grinned, still looking out across the lake before he turned to return your kiss. "It's our job as boyfriends. And now, our job is to convince James you're well enough to do more than float an inch off the ground."

A snort escaped you as you laughed at that, sighing and hiding your face against his shoulder.

"He's gonna give me so much shit for skipping out on practice, floating or not."

"I'm sure it won't be all that bad."

Sirius now smirked down at you, unable to resist pressing yet another kiss to your cheek.

"He's completely smitten with you after all. We all are."

oh my god this is a million years late babes, i'm so sorry. between finals and dorm moveout i've been completely swamped. i'm planning on getting back into the fanfiction grind though, so you have plenty to look forward to coming up darling!! all the best!!!! <3

[teaboot]

Forgive me if you’ve already answered something similar but how do you deal with crushing guilt when you did fuck up but there’s not really anything you can do to like make amends or you’ve already done anything you could and still feel guilty?

Like I know the guilt isn’t productive at all, if anything it’s just paralyzing me, and mentally beating myself up over it isn’t actually helping anyone. But I don’t know where to go from there. Idk how to actually forgive myself, or at least be able to move on

CW FOR SELF HARM

Okay, so this is something I've had to work through for a very long time myself, and there's a few different strategies that I've used to cope and process with varying levels of success.

What I used to do was handle the "I've ruined everything and hurt people and am never going to be forgiven" feeling by hurting myself in a number of creative and stupid ways, from physical hurt (Everything you'd expect) to mental hurt (wallowing, speaking badly of myself, going over the bad thing over and over again in my head) to passive hurt (neglecting my health, not eating properly, failing to pursue good living conditions, letting others hurt me, deliberately wandering into risky situations) and despite any short-term relief or peace I got, none of it ultimately fixed anything.

At the end of the day, making myself suffer as retribution or apology didn't fix the thing I'd done and didn't make the guilt go away, and all it gave me was an additional sense of shame and isolation because now not only was I a garbage person, I was a garbage person with something to hide from my loved ones. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.

The stuff that DID help was harder and is going to sound stupid because *I thought it was stupid* until it worked for me.

First: Learn the difference between GUILT and SHAME.

GUILT is how you feel about your choices.

SHAME is how you feel about yourself.

"I was late to a date again, that was inconsiderate": GUILT. The issue can be resolved by analyzing the reason behind the action and planning steps to avoid repeating it in the future. Guilt is productive because it motivates us to improve our choices. Once you've corrected the behaviour, it's over.

A"I was late to a date again, I'm inconsiderate": SHAME. The issue can be resolved by asking ourselves:

What negative thing to I believe about myself?

What other experiences support this belief? What evidence do I have that the bad thing is true?

Do those previous experiences have anything in common? Where they actually proof of a personal lack, or did someone just tell me they were? Were my choices and actions understandable? Did I have a reason? Was I trying to hurt others, or was it a mistake, accident, or learning experience? Have I grown from that experience?

Can I forgive myself for the past? What do I need to do to forgive myself for those past events? Was I really at fault at all, or was it out of my control?

Accept that.

Your present traumas and shames often have roots in beliefs you had about yourself before the new shameful thing occurred. When you dig into resolving the issues that led to today, you can use those conclusions to work through tomorrow. This is something I learned in cognitive behavioral therapy.

There are a number of ways of unpacking these questions, but as I felt I was deliberately avoiding my thoughts and feelings, I chose to jump into them directly, and found it to be effective.

You can write things down, talk to someone, paint something, draw something, whatever. Whatever at all works for you.

My solutions was to find a comfortable place on the floor, sit down, close my eyes, and do box-breathing (in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4) while deliberately thinking about every upsetting memory attached to a specific bad belief that I could recall until I had nothing left to go over.

Judge and jury. Was I a bad person, or did I make a mistake? Did I have malicious intentions, or did someone accuse me of malicious intentions? Am I bad, or have I been conditioned to believe I'm bad? And at the end of it all, am I capable of better? Do I want to be better? And would a truly bad person care?

It was more emotional than I expected the first few times. Cried a lot, actually. But if I can liken it to a common feeling, it was like getting out of a very thorough shower and realizing you didn't know how dirty you were before.

The process sucks ass, no lie, but it's worth it. Like draining pus from a gnarly wound to get it healed up properly.

I'm not an expert, of course, but life has gotten better since I started. I'm better at forgiving myself, at least.

Also: Some people will never forgive others even for tiny things. Sometimes once you've done your best, you've just gotta say "fuck 'em". C'est la vie, mon amie.

Good luck, yeah?

♡

[hyukalyptus]

like, never ever? — beomgyu x fem!reader | besties to lovers. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. bestfriend!dom!beomgyu, virgin!afab!reader, bondage, corruption, spanking, cunnilingus (f. receiving), unprotected sex (use condoms pls!), pet/nick names (baby, sir), nipple play, slight dacryphilia. notes. resposted from my old acct, originally a request, did not re-read too carefully., smut under cut! wc. ~800

beomgyu never thought about you like that before. he knew you were attractive—he's not blind—he just never thought about you in a sexual way. but when you admit it's not that i've never been with someone...i've never even had an orgasm, his brain short circuits.

you've...never? like never, ever? you shake your head and he can't help but chuckle, a cocky smile appearing on his face.

why didn't you tell me? it just didn't cross your mind, but he reminds you i could help you out, you know. his strong hand creeps up your thigh as you feel an ache in your center.

it wasn't just wanting to help out a friend with him. sure, that's a perk—you get to have ur first orgasm and i get to absolutely ruin you. and he's salivating just thinking about touching you, tasting you, pleasing you in a way you've never felt before.

it doesn't take much convincing to get you to lay down on the bed, baby. his eyes fixed on your body as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and loosens his tie. usually, i'd tie you up with this, but since it's your first...but before he can say anything else, or did you want me to use it? you nod shyly, seeing him like this...all disheveled and broad...is definitely doing something to you.

you look so pretty, so pretty all tied up from me on your tummy, hands tied behind your back, ass up. his eyes rake over your body and fuck, i can't believe no one's had you like this. your pussy clenches around nothing as he situates himself underneath you. he seems to forget this all new for you. you gasp and what are you doing?

chuckling, his hands soothe your hips before it's okay, just sit on my face. you squirm and whine, but soon met with a harsh smack on your ass and that wasn't a suggestion. sit on my face.

hesitantly, you lower down to his face and he licks your clit harshly. keeling over in pleasure, you can't hold myself up, sir. can you help?

that snarky chuckle comes out again, sir? you're so polite for your first time. sucking on your clit, he spanks you again roughly, electricity shooting throughout your body. since you asked so nicely, he holds you by the hips, sucking on your sensitive clit. but soon enough, i think i'm cumming, sir, you gasp out and nod rapidly, legs trembling around his face, the knot in ur stomach tightening until you just can't take it anymore. everything feels like it's on fire. tingles are all over your body as you feel what you can only describe as an explosion of pleasure washes over you.

maybe you blacked out there for a minute, you don't know, but he's already ramming his cock inside you from behind and how does my cock feel in that tight, little pussy, huh, baby? you can't form coherent sentences. your ass jiggles with his ruts and spanks and you just wanna be thrown around, sir. please. please throw me around?

his hand meets your backside again before he quickly unties his tie, flips you over effortlessly and ties your hands above your head. legs spread wide, he fucks into you again as you yelp out in pleasure.

you never thought this is how good this felt. you knew it'd be nice, but this? this is so much better than you ever thought possible.

you're trembling, squeaking, shaking, gasping for air—who's making you feel good, hm baby? who made you feel so fucking good for this first time? you nod and whimper and you, sir. he presses your legs up to access your ass again to give it a good spank.

who? say my fucking name, baby. you're still struggling with keeping up with everything. he yanks you up, slamming his cock inside you deeper, which you didn't think was possible. say my name, he grunts with each thrust. you try your best, you really do, but poor baby, can't even say my name. do i need to stop? shaking your head no, please no—please don't stop, beomgyu. he smiles and that's it, baby.

practically crying his name out, you can hardly keep yourself composed before he licks his thumb to rub your nipple. that's when the tears start streaming down your face, close to your second orgasm. ever. a few more thrusts and flicks of your nipple until i'm cumming again, beomgyu. he smiles and follows soon after you, squirting his hot cum inside your tight cunt. and, you must admit, it's so warm and nice. like the best fucking hug you've ever had in your life.

collapsing next to you, you catch your breath and look at each other shyly, both of your juices dripping down further and further before all he can say is that was just...so good. wow.

[a-hazbin-reader]

how about a reader who's been feeling pretty overworked recently?and just needs to rest but is to stubborn to Al does something about it?

Now it's Alastor's turn to pamper~

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None I think??

Description: ☝️⬆️

You've been going nonstop all week and it's been taking it's toll on you physically and mentally

There's so much that needs done and you're only one person, you don't have time to sit and relax

Which means you're unintentionally taking time with you away from Alastor

Not his ears drooping and folding back when he realizes you're going to turn him down

"I'm so sorry, Alastor, I'm just too tired to go out and I really need to finish this."

"Y/N, it's our date night and I insist that you-"

"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you later, I promise."

But you pass out and Alastor has to carry you to bed, hating that you're so overworked right now, that you have no time to spare for him

Which in his deer brain, means that you're neglecting him because you're so fried from work

And that means he's gotta fix this

But you're stubbon and won't relax willingly so he's got to get creative

"Darling, won't you take this bubble bath with me? I need help getting my back~"

🥵🥵 s-sure

He takes special care to massage and scrub every part of you until you're a gooey mess in his hands

Despite his claws, he can be surprisingly gentle, it's rather soothing to feel them ghosting over your skin

It's not until later when your back is against his chest and he's kissing your shoulder that you realize he's been spoiling you the entire time

Literally carries you to bed bridal style and dries your body with a loving reverence that makes you blush

"Alastor, I can do this myself-"

"Hush now, let me do this for you..."

Rubs fancy lotions and creams into your skin, massaging until you inevitably fall asleep under his care

Nobody is allowed to wake you or bother you at all for the time being, he'll make sure of it

He finds excuses to interrupt you during your work, forcing you to take breaks

"Darling, I accidentally made too much jambalaya! So I thought I might bring you some as I am quite sure you haven't eaten today~"

"Alastor, I don't have time to-that smells really good..."

It's so good you could cry, devouring the entire thing while he stays and has lunch with you, turning it into a mini date

You didn't even realize how tense were before Alastor showed up, feeling full and relaxed after he gives you a parting kiss

You really don't want him to go, watching him leave with a longing expression

Not him purposefully stealing something you need so that you have no choice but to seek him out

"Have you seen my folder? I can't get back to work without it!"

"Hm? I can't say that I have, but have you seen what a beautiful day it is outside? Why not just skip work today, and we'll take a stroll through Cannibal Town?"

Won't take no for an answer, already looping his arm with yours and marching you outside

It is actually a beautiful day outside

Takes you to all your old haunts and spends all day buying anything you even look at

It feels good to catch up with Rosie and some of your old friends, not having realized how long it's been since you've seen them

He also takes you out dancing, which leaves you tired and sore, but in the best way possible, he was always exciting to dance with

Will carry you home if he has to, will actually find an excuse to do so

"Do your feet hurt? Here, let me carry you~"

You pass out before he puts the blanket over you, soothed by his scent on your pillow

It's not until later when you wake up to him putting your folder back in your bag that you realize what he's been up to

"Alastor..?"

Oh fuck he's been caught

"Darling! I was just-cleaning off your bag and-"

"...just shut up and come back to bed..."

Literally climbs right on top of you and flops on you like he's your own personal weighted blanket

Kissing your neck and shoulders before whispering into your ear with a slightly guilty voice

"Are you angry with me?"

"Mm...not if you keep giving me attention like this..."

Well, he wouldn't want his darling Y/N to start getting angry with him now, would he?

The next day you feel more renewed and refreshed than you have in weeks, waking up tangled in Alastor's arms

You chuckle softly and push some of his hair out of his (totally not pretending) sleeping face, admiring his handsome features

He's a sneaky man who tricks you into relaxing and taking time for yourself because he loves you

And you love him all the more for it

This one was too cute! I hope you like it

[irb-pascalito-99]

Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

[maxillness]

Older || JB22 x Interviewer!Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, age *GAP*, cheating, oral (f), fingering, praise kink, nipple play, orgasm denial, marking up,

Wordcount: 1.7k

Part two

When she had taken this internship, she hadn’t imagined what she had gotten herself into

She knew that she was going to watch interviews, and even do some herself, but she hadn’t expected what would come out of it

She had seen the drivers on tv and in pictures, but god, did most of them look better in person

Especially one driver in particular

Jenson Button

Man, wasn’t he a sight for sore eyes? The way his eyes looked at her, the way he smiled as he looked at her, the way his hands moved, the slight stubble on his jaw

She always had dirty thoughts about the driver, but seeing him in person did things to her she could never speak about

“You on for interviewing Button?” Her mentor came over to her, speaking to her with a soft tone and eyes

She hadn’t yet actually talked to him, and she was pissing her pants to do so “Yeah, of course” She tried putting on her best smile, even through her feared eyes

She feared that when she spoke, that she would stuttered, crack her voice, or even both. She feared she wouldn’t hold together

“You seem nervous. More so than the others” Her mentor mentioned, standing in front of her, fixing something on her clothes

“Of course. Have you seen him? He’s hot as fuck” Her words made the other chuckle

“You’ll be fine. I once got the tip to imagine the other naked” They said, trying to make her feel better

“No offence, but if I imagine Jenson Button naked, I might just have the best orgasm of my life” She said, trying to calm herself

“Fair enough. You’ll do great. You’ve been with the others. Here he comes. Anything than naked then” She turned herself around to be face with Jenson who smiled at her

“We haven’t spoke before. You’re the intern, right?” He asked, shaking her hand, his voice sending shivers down her spine

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Y/N Y/L/N. Nice meeting you” She said, her cheeks heating up as she took her hand back

“Nice meeting you too” He smiled, seeing the way her cheeks had gotten more red

She managed to get through the interview without stuttering or cracking her voice, which she was happy about, and impressed

“I told you you would do good, didn’t I?” She had calmed more down as they were walking into their hotel

“Yeah. I impressed myself, which isn’t often that happens” She chuckled as they walked to the elevator

“I’m gonna take the stairs, okay?” She nodded as her mentor walked to the stairs. She needed the silent elevator ride

Just as she had pressed her floor button and leaned against the wall, a man walked into the elevator as well

As she looked closer, she realised it was Jenson who had walked in with her. Apparently he was going to the same floor, ‘cause when he looked over to the panel, he didn’t press a button

“Was I your first interview?” He asked, leaning against the wall opposite to her

“No, I have done a few” She said. It had suddenly gotten too hot in there, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him

He smiled softly to himself as he noticed her cheeks were red as she looked into the floor, crossing her arms over her chest

“You did good” He spoke, the words of praise forcing a whimper out of her she hoped were low enough for him not to hear

But of course he did, ‘cause her body had to betray her. She pressed her thighs together as she heard his footsteps

He hooked his finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him “Tell me, Y/N. What do you look for in a man, hm?” His voice was low

She sank the lump in her throat “I need someone older. Just a little bit colder. Take the weight of his shoulders”

She felt intimidated under his stare, so much that she was surprised she could get a word out he could understand

“How old are you, Y/N?” She loved the way her name rolled of his tongue

“18. Old enough to keep it” She said, just above a whisper

He chuckled as he pulled her out of the elevator as the doors opened. The grip he had on her arm felt like fire, but a pleasurable one

He dragged her down the opposite of her own room. He didn’t fumbled with the keycard, even though he only had one hand to do so

She was pressed up against the door the second it was closed. His lips found hers immediately

The kiss was rushed and uneven, but not in an awkward way

“Jenson-“ She held his jaw, pulling him slightly away. It only resulted in him going to her neck, placing feather soft kisses before he softly started sucking at her sensitive skin

“Jenson, you’re- fuck. Ah” He pushed her leg in between her thighs, her body involuntarily starting to grind against him “You’re married”

“Seems like it doesn’t stop you” He said, sucking at her pulse point, drawing out a loud moan from her

“Why would anyone stop you from sucking their neck?” She let out a whimper as he pulled his leg away from her

She was panting hard as he pulled back to look into her eyes. He pulled at her hips, drawing out a yelp from her as he guided her towards the bed

He hovered over her as her back was against the bed. His lips trailed from her mouth and back down to her neck

Her hands were placed on his waist, her nails digging into his skin through his shirt “Please, Jense…” She let out a whine as he bit down softly at her skin

“You’re gonna have to be quiet. Think you can do that, sweetheart?” She nodded, a whimper falling from her lips “Good girl”

She whimpered as he pulled her shirt over her head, throwing it to the ground. She squirmed as he kissed down her body as his hands went behind her back, working on getting her bra off

Her lips made their way to one of her nipples, circling his tongue around the bud, drawing whimpers and whines from her as his hands went to the other

“Jenson, please” She whimpered, arching her back into his hand and mouth “Please, I’m begging you”

He chuckled at her eagerness as his lips traveled down her body again, landing just above the waistband of her jeans

His hands fumbled with her button and zipper before she bucked her hips so he could pull them down along with her panties

He immediately went to kiss at her inner thighs, biting softly down at her skin, making her whimper low as she grabbed the sheets beneath her

“Jense… Please” She bucked her hips as he got closer to her core “Please, please, please” She tried so hard not to moan out her words

He gave into her pleas as he darted his tongue through her folds, collecting the wetness she had produced

She covered her mouth with her hand in case she would let any sounds slip

Her hand that wasn’t over her mouth tangled in his hair in a tight grip as he started flicking her clit with his tongue

She was biting her lip so hard under her hand, that she could almost taste blood

She arched her back as she could feel two of his fingers tease her entrance. Her body shook as he slowly entered her, getting her to slowly adjust

He slowly moved his fingers, groaning as her grip got tighter, sending vibrations through her clit, making her let out a moan

“You sounds so good, love, but you need to be quiet. People on both side’s will hear you, and I won’t hear the end of it” He chuckled, his tongue going back to her clit

Her whole body shook as he started curling his fingers, hitting the soft spots inside her that made her see stars

She wanted to warn him that she was close, but she was afraid to let out any sounds if she tried to speak, let alone open her mouth

She came around his fingers with a squeak, her whole body convulsing as she clenched around his fingers

He slowed down, getting her down from her orgasm before he pulled out and away, making her whine at the loss of contact

She was so fucked out and away that she didn’t realise he had undressed himself and back to be hovering over her

She flung her arms around his shoulders as he planted soft kisses along her neck. He put her leg around his hip, gaining him better access to slowly enter her

She whined and bit down on her lip as she felt herself stretch around him

“Fuck, you feel so good” Jenson groaned as he slowly started to move inside her “So good”

Her nails scraped along his back, defiantly leaving marks behind for him to see tomorrow as he sped up his hips

He made sure not to go too fast as to make more sounds of their skin against skin contact

She had already started clenching around him from her previous orgasm, which drew him closer to the edge

“Fuck, Jense. ‘M close” She whimpered low, almost like a whisper

“I know, love. Come for me” He covered her lips with his own as she came around him a few thrusts later, himself following shortly after

He rode out their orgasms before pulling out of her slowly, making her whine of overstimulation

He laid down beside her after he had cleaned them both up. He pulled her into his arms, letting her rest her head on his chest

“What are you going to say to your wife?” She asked, filling up the emptiness in the room

“Nothing” He sighed, stroking her hair as she slowly dazed into sleep

[pedgito]

Hi Ali!! I love your writing and I was wondering if I can request dom Joel punishing you by riding his boot??

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

summary | joel doesn't like gifts, you gift him new boots. [3k]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, soft dom/sub dynamic, boot-riding, degradation kink, unprotected piv, one (1) face slap, porn with absolutely no plot.

author’s note | original working title for this was new boot goofin' because i can't take myself seriously, idk what this is but enjoy. kel (@beskarandblasters) suggested the actual title for this so thank you babe ♡

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic recs

Three things about Joel you were intensely sure of—he was a strong lover. He loved hard and he cared even harder, always willing to put your needs before his own, even to an unhealthy degree in some cases. Two, he liked to be in charge. With his willingness to put you before him, it also lended him to enjoy the role of being dominant in the right situations. He kept a lot of himself locked up around everyone but you. Through the few years you two have become close and started this relationship—if you could call it that—there’s a solid understanding of each other’s needs. He provides the domineering nature you crave and you subdued yourself to him willingly when he puts the facade on.

At first, it never left the bedroom. You both enjoyed the disguise of the dynamics to make things flow easier, not allow things to stall out so quickly and you had all the proper safety precautions in place to allow you both the happiness you seeked out. But, as most things in your life, they seeped through the cracks and bled out, intermingling with the rest of your daily life.

Sometimes it was just a look when you’d say something in public that was indecent or a comment that made Joel’s face go hot, knowing that despite his openness in public, he was still a very private man. He reserved that side for you and only you. And he did so much for you—not just around Jackson, but in your own home. With him being the lead guy for patrols and having such a…special relationship with him, it lended for more leniency when you weren’t feeling great or needed a break from the hectic energy that patrolling liked to suffocate people with, always on the brink of danger. And Joel was always too handy for his own good—always finding a reason to fix up a broken something in your own small house on the outskirts of Jackson. 

Broken pipe? Fixed. Chair broken? Joel could shape you out a new one in a couple weeks.

Last week he had repainted then entirety of your kitchen cabinets because he thought they were looking a little dull—as if they weren’t run down from years of abandonment and like this wasn’t the fucking apocalypse. Despite that, you felt the urge to thank Joel. And not just thank him.

Properly. With a gift.

But—oh. Third thing, Joel hated gifts.

Despised them.

But, you weren’t always the best listener or rule follower.

A patrol with Tommy had you both scheming up an idea when you bring up the option of gifting something to Joel as a proper offering of appreciation, his hand resting loosely on the rifle slung around his chest, fingers tapping against the butt. 

“Well—you know, there’s a clothing store a few miles east,” Tommy tells you, “Ellie and I found it when we cleared out that hoard a few months back—lotsa clothes and shoes, mostly untouched. We could check that out? I need to grab a few things myself anyways.”

You nod easily, “Yeah—that pair he has is falling apart. It drives me insane.”

“Joel doesn’t like to let go of things easily,” Tommy comments broadly, “He’ll make do with what he’s got until it falls apart.”

“Well, he doesn’t take no for an answer when I tell him to stop helpin’ me so he’s gonna have to suck it up just this once.” You smile slightly, earning a soft chuckle from Tommy.

You hoped it would go over well—because Joel did need new boots and there was little harm in an innocent gift…right?

–

Joel is brimming with an energy that only accompanied him after long patrols, the ones that lasted a few days and kept him away. Away from his home, away from you. He doesn’t even attempt the trek toward his own house, rather taking the first right and beelining for your small house at the end of the neighborhood, squeezing his leather covered hands into fists.

He’s anxious, pent up—not with anger or rage, but just a need to release some built up stress. Fortunately, he knew the perfect way to do that. His boots squeak against the hardwood of your front deck, the tattered rubber around the toe of his boot hanging on by a thread as he kicks it gently into the base of the door softly, idle as he busies his mind and prays that you’re still awake.

You’ve been waiting for him all day, his gift hidden away safely as you yank the door open excitedly, nearly tripping over your own pair of haphazardly thrown shoes on the floor.

Joel lets out a soft oof as he catches you, chuckling at your bright and beaming smile.

“Someone’s excited,” Joel chides playfully, though his voice is gruff. He sounds tired, looks it too, “been missin’ me, baby?”

You nod immediately, “So much,” You press a gentle kiss to his lips as he kicks the front door closed with his foot, slowly removing his layers—thick coat falling first, then his thinner jacket he wore underneath to leave him in a thick thermal, his skin still prickling with the winter chill but quickly warming underneath your touch, “everything go okay?”

“Yeah—just a bad storm comin’ in,” Joel explains, ignoring how distracted you were, allowing the soft pecks to his skin as you pulled away, slowly inserting yourself into his line of sight, mischievous grin plastered across your face, “—what are you up to, darlin’?

“Got a surprise for you,” You tease playfully, feeling his thick, calloused fingers slip under the thin material of your shirt, subconsciously seeking some contact with you, “can you go sit on the couch and close your eyes?”

Joel didn’t take too well to surprises, but he trusts you. So, he nods quietly, though there’s a slight hesitance to him as he takes a seat on the couch, slowly unlacing his boots in your absence to relieve some pressure but not taking them off completely, the tongue of the boot hanging lifelessly over his even more pathetic looking laces.

He can hear your soft footsteps as they approach, bare feet against the wood flooring as the couch dips slightly and he feels something hard and solid pressed into his hands.

“Okay, open ‘em,” You tell him gently, watching as he blinks his eyes open, expression mostly unchanging—it wasn’t unlike him to have little reaction, but it did worry you slightly, “—surprise?”

Okay, terrible idea. Got it.

“Darlin’,” God, you’ve heard that tone before, body tensing slightly, “I thought I told you I don’t need nothin’ in return from you.”

“Joel—you’re constantly helping me,” You argue softly, “it’s the least I could do. Plus, you need a new pair.”

“That’s not the point,” Joel tells you, “I do that stuff ‘cause I like knowin’ you’re comfortable, that you don’t have anything to worry about while I’m away.”

“And I worry about you too,” You interject quickly, “Joel—it’s just a gift, it’s okay.”

Joel places them on the table in front of him silently, contemplating thoughtfully.

He’s made it clear on several occasions that he doesn’t like things in return. That he does these things without the expectation of anything in return, but he appreciates the gesture. Joel isn’t used to people caring for him and it feels odd to allow it. And he sees the nervous energy inside of you brimming, like you’ve made a bad choice and you deserve the punishment.

 Almost begged for it. 

Your fists curl nervously in your lap, waiting for any sign that Joel had to offer.

And when he doesn’t respond, you find yourself curling into him out of instinct. Thighs spreading out over his lap as his hands follow the trail from your knees, up your thighs, until his thumbs are settling in the crease of your pelvis. You attempt a gentle kiss, but he’s reluctant to return it.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask quietly, a genuine curiosity in your voice.

Joel shakes his head slightly, but the hand guiding its way around your neck tells a different story, his fingertips rubbing against the softness of your jawline, forcing you to look at him properly.

“Nothin’ wrong, but I do think I need to remind you of somethin’,” Joel explains in a soft, but demeaning tone, “that when I tell you I can provide for you and don’t need anything in return—that I mean that.”

You wait with baited breath, blinking rapidly at how hot his breath feels against your skin, feeling your cunt throb with need, with an insatiable want for him.

“And since you wanna buy me a new pair of boots—well,” Joel chuckles darkly, feeling your fingers tighten into the thick fabric of his thermal, “you’re gonna have to help me break ‘em in.”

You look at him, perplexed. But, his pupils dilate under your gaze, the subtle shifting as he kicks off his old, tattered boots as nods subtly to the new pair behind you.

You sigh breathily, “Huh—Oh, you want me to—”

“Ride my boot, baby,” He tells you clearly, “Seein’ as it is my gift and all.”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as you slipped from his lap, table skidding back deftly in the process—you grab for the new pair of work boots but Joel is quickly grabbing your face again, squeezing your cheeks sharply.

“Undress first.” Joel says, waiting for your nod of acknowledgement before he lets you go.

So, you do—layer by layer until you reach your bra, unhooking it with nimble fingers as he slips on his new boots. If this were anyone else, you would feel ridiculous. But, with Joel, there was something there, brewing on the surface. He respected you, but he also needed you to understand.

It was a little humiliating, but it wasn’t the worst thing.

Your fingers edge along the hem of your underwear when Joel stops your hands, “Keep those on.” He utters, his fingers dragging softly against the front of the cotton material until he’s cupping your pussy in his palm, soft wet spot growing in the fabric where his fingertips drag across—you’re enjoying this, clearly.

You lower yourself slowly, straddling his left leg with your knees tucked against the bottom of the couch he sat on, pressing your cunt against the cold leather of his steel-toed boot.

Joel relaxes then, arms spread wide over the back of the couch, fingers gripping loosely into the cushion. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart.” Joel comforts, sensing your brimming nervousness as your fingers trailed along his calf, the hard press of his boot right against your core and if you tried hard enough, it wouldn’t take long at all—knowing that even just a little bit of encouragement from Joel and friction could have you coming undone. But, he wants you to work for it.

You start slow, a subtle grind of your hips that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. You sigh softly at the relief, noticing the slowly growing smirk on Joel’s face that you’re trying to avoid, eyes falling shut slowly as you tip your head back, allowing a slow rhythm to start.

“Feels good?” Joel wonders, “Like the idea of me carryin’ somethin’ of you around with me?”

In more ways than one—by a simple gift from the kindness of your heart, but also the desperation of the slick that damped your underwear and painted a perfect mess over his boot.

You nod quietly, moaning softly as you angle your hips to allow the drag of your clit over the solidness of the boot, friction sending your eyes rolling back in your head, hands fisting into the thick denim and selfishly using it for leverage as you quickened your pace. 

“That’s right, baby—want you to think about coming all over my boot for me,” Joel encourages, “can you do that?”

Truthfully, you were holding back. Seeing just how much you could get out of him.

But, Joel catches onto your game.

“You need a little encouragement?” Joel asks curiously, chin cupped in his strong grip, nodding obediently. “Think you deserve that, baby?”

“Please—please, Joel.” You beg, “Fuck—please, I’ll do—”

“Don’t say anything, darlin’.” He warns, “Not when you don’t know what that means for you.”

He keeps your eyes locked on his, squeezing your cheeks gently when you start to fade, the slowly building tingle in your core that wasn’t as easily ignorable now, coiled in your belly and ready to explode. You lose yourself for a brief second, hand fisting into the slack bunch of denim atop his thigh, earning a dull but stern slap to your cheek to bring your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me, baby,” Joel coos, fisting the hard line of his cock under the strained denim with his free hand, looking slightly pained at how much he was holding back himself, “look at you—always eager to please, huh?”

You roll your eyes slightly—and Joel really doesn’t like that. His hand cradling the base of your neck as he holds you still, body pulled just centimeters away from his boot, leaving your pussy throbbing with a lack of contact that your body craved.

“Now you just look a little pathetic, don’t you?” Joel asks, “All needy for my fuckin’ boot—got her beggin’ for it, don’t I?” And you know he’s not addressing you directly, rather the pool of your own slick, shiny wetness on the toe of his boot that gives you away.

 He nudges it against your clit gently, earning a soft whine as you hips instinctively seek for friction—Joel takes a slightly more firmer stance, head cradling both of his hands as he holds you prisoner in his gaze, two thick fingers slipping into your open mouth and grinning at how pathetically and greedily you suck on the digits without having to be told, removing them with a loud pop and a thin string of spit that connects you to him.

And if he was a stronger man, he could hold off. But, he’s so weak around you he can’t even hide it. He lets go in an instant, reaching for the front of his own jeans as he shoves them down his hips until he can manage to slip his cock out over his underwear, fisting himself in an instant.

Staving himself on patrols was torture when all he could think about was you—so he knows it won’t take much. Hell, he’s surprised with how long he’s been able to hold off now.

You admire with a haughty gaze, slowly resting back against the base of his boot, watching his free hand slip under his heavy sack, massaging as he jerks his fist without much rhythm, blinded by his own selfish need for release.

“Keep goin’,” He encourages through a tight breath, “but don’t fuckin’ come, darlin’.”

Your hole clenches and flutters around nothing, wishing that it was his cock stuffed inside of you rather than the plane of his boot pressed against your pussy, the thickness of his fingers alongside the girthiness of his cock a blatant reminder of how deeply you felt him in the mornings and even days after, always fucked so throughly it had you reeling and constantly crawling back for more.

He jerks himself selfishly, eyes falling shut as he feels himself dragging too close to the edge, your moans gaining in intensity, knowing how pathetic you would both look to anyone else. But, there was no one to judge you here—and Joel was beyond feeling the need to be assertive, rather just needing you, to be inside you and have you snug around him and crying on his cock.

Joel pulls you out of your daze hastily, manhandling you until you’re back is flat against the couch, quickly shoving his jeans down far enough that they don’t become a hindrance as he pulls your underwear aside and slips inside of you with a solid push of his hips, the slickness of your cunt allowing no resistance as you both groan at how good it feels, eyes connecting for a brief moment before everything goes black…or white. 

Joel isn’t sure what he sees, but it only takes a few minutes of some hurried and desperate pumps of his hips as his cock nudges that particular spot deep inside of you that has you clawing at the bare skin you could reach, leaving red marks on his neck as he snaps his hips with a finality, coming with a low groan that has your legs shaking, bent nearly in half as he still manages to see through his own haze and drag his fingers over your clit—it doesn’t take more than a couple seconds before you're there, spasming around his cock with a sob, gasping at his overstimulating touch as he continues to press and circle your clit until you’re begging him to stop, his hips slowly pumping his cum inside of you.

Joel finds himself laying slack against you, pants down at his ankles as he allows your fingers to thread through his grown out curls from where his head rests against your chest, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

“I appreciate the boots,” He says after a while, “if that wasn’t already obvious.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” You giggle softly.

“Seriously, no more gifts, though.” Joel says sternly, “I mean it.”

You pout slightly and Joel catches it, his eyes flicking up to look at you.

“I’m makin’ no promises to that.” You tell him truthfully.

Joel chuckles softly, “Can’t say I expected you to, either.”

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 6/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2515

A/N: This is part 6 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You could both hear Frenchie, but neither you nor Ben wanted to be the one to look away first. Be the one to give in. For once, Frenchie realized he was out of place a little quicker than usual and ran away before things got too messy.

“I definitely don’t have to fucking justify myself to you. I'm fucking Soldier Boy. I don’t have to justify myself to anyone”, he stood in front of you with broad shoulders and looked down at you.

“That’s not the point”, you raised your voice, but you were put in your place faster than you would have liked. With his forearm on your chest, he pushed you against the wall next to the door.

Once again he was portrayed as the bad guy, even though all he wanted to do was help. Wanted to do the right thing. Ben thought you were different, that you saw something good in him, but obviously he was wrong.

“I think i went too soft on you. Know your fucking place or I’ll make you”, he growled threateningly, fixing his gaze on you for a moment longer. He shook his head pathetically, the corners of his mouth hanging as he heard your heart start to race. “Fucking pathetic. Like all fucking women”, he hissed, releasing you with a firm jerk.

Ben had to protect you both. Despite all the hate and anger within him, or perhaps because of it, he still behaved like a soldier.

He had to protect you from losing your life because of him or his actions, and he had to protect himself from being abandoned and disappointed by a woman again. He wouldn't let something like the the thing with the Russians happen again. Whatever made him want more from you, than your mouth around his cock, wouldn't be allowed from now on.

It was Annie who broke the silence between the two of you by entering the room. “Hey (y/n). How are you doing? How you feeling?”, she gently stroked your forearm. Your eyes stayed on Ben for a moment, but he fled, leaving the two of you alone.

"Good. I guess”, you mumbled, watching Ben leave.

Annie pressed her lips together as she saw your longing look. “Nuh-uh… (y/n)… Seriously. You don’t want this, trust me”, she sighed, looking at you with pity. “He’s not one of the good guys”.

“I don’t know what you mean” you murmur, wrapping your amre around your torso. Lost in thought, you chewed on your bottom lip as you continued to look at the door to the room.

“Mhmm, sure. Now try again”, Annie murmured.

Your eyes met Annie's and unfortunately revealed too much of what was going on. Feelings, that you neither could nor wanted to place, were boiling inside you.

Shaking your head slightly, you sighed, thanked Annie for looking out for your well-being, but then left the room.

After a long shower, you slipped into fresh clothes and walked past the living room, where Ben and the others were sitting, to leave the apartment. “Oi, where are you going?”, Butcher called to you, craning his head. A football game was playing in the background. “Just out. I need some fresh air”, you crossed your arms and looked into the living room from the door. “I don’t think that’s a good idea”, Butcher replied, putting his beer on the table. "Should I come with you?", Annie looked at you.

Ben was listening to your discussion about whether or not you should go out alone, but he acted as if his attention was just on the television.

“I’m a Supe now. What’s going to happen?”, you shrugged, earning a snide mockery from Ben. “You have something to say, huh?”. You narrow your eyes at Ben, who is sipping his bottle of whiskey. “Oh, absolutely not, Dollfface. Go out and have fun”, he gave you a fake smile. Butcher looked at the two of you and knew something was off. Why would Ben react like that to what you just said? But he couldn't put his finger on it. “All fucking amateurs”, Ben chuckled, standing up with his whiskey. Before he walked past you into his room, he stopped right in front of you and leaned so close that his lips touched your ear. “You'll notice soon”, he whispered, winking at you and leaving you confused.

“See you later”, you mumbled after a while to Butcher and left the apartment.

Ben should have told you, but he didn't. He didn't even know why. It would have been much safer for you to know.

You walked through the dark and empty streets, lost in thought, for over two hours. Aside from desperately trying to discover your abilities, you were busy trying to understand Ben's behavior. One moment he was kissing you, the next he was treating you like a worthless piece of shit. He had saved your life, but he was also the one who had put it in danger. You felt like you were hanging on a rope that he tightened or loosened at will.

But what did you actually want? In any case, you didn't want to be a Supe. Never. And now you have the crap. And then the whole thing with Ben. It felt like you hadn't had any other topic on your mind for weeks than him. It wasn't that you were in love with him, but rather that you tried to find justification in all of his actions, despite your actual dislike for Supes. Not seeing him as the bad guy. Like Annie. Or the others. You knew there was something good in him somewhere, even if he really didn't make it easy for you to stick to your beliefs. Despite your best efforts, you just couldn't put your finger on what made you so attached to Ben. Of course you had a similar sense of humor, often similar opinions and views and of course Ben was really good looking. But that wasn´t enough for… You couldn't even finish your thought, and probably wouldn't have wanted to, when suddenly someone landed on the floor behind you. With a force that almost knocked you to the ground.

“Well, look at that. Who do we have here?”. The Supe puts his hands on his hips behind you. “What is a beautiful young woman like you doing here all alone?”. Your breath hitched as you turned around to make sure it was who you thought it was. After you had been looking for him for months and there was no greater mission than to finally catch him alone and take him prisoner, the son of a bitch just stood in front of you.

"Are you speechless?", Homelander cocked his head to the side before taking a few steps towards you. You needed to somehow regain your nerve. “Homelander. Wow. What an honor”, you accomplished your acting masterpiece and bowed slightly. "Mhmm, all nice and polite. Well-bred. I’m almost thrilled”, he gave you a bright smile. “Of course you know who I am, but would you like to tell me your name?”, he was now standing directly in front of you. You knew that even as Supe you wouldn't stand a chance against Homelander. “(y/n)”, you said, quieter than you planned as his scent invaded your nose. Normally you wouldn't be so awkward and intimidated around Supes, but Homelander was different. Not only was he stronger than all the other Supes, he was also crazier.

“Pretty name, pretty girl. But seriously. Don't you know how dangerous it is out here this late? With the psychopath Soldier Boy on the loose”, he shook his head and clicked his tongue. You almost raised an eyebrow at his statement, but you stopped yourself at the last moment. He of all people said Ben was a psychopath.

“Oh, I'm a Supe too, it's okay. But thanks”, you waved and were about to leave, but Homelander’s laughter stopped you. "You? A supe? Hardly, darling. I can smell your human blood from miles away. Not to mention your off heartbeat”, he placed a hand on your shoulder.

Your eyes met and as a cold shiver of the bad kind ran down your spine, Homelander's pupils moved quickly and repeatedly left and right as his eyes narrowed. It seemed like he was trying to concentrate. His mouth opened and he raised a finger before putting it thoughtfully to his lips.

With much effort, Homelander could hear the Compound V in your blood and feel it pulsating under his hand on your shoulder. But it wasn't pure V. It was mixed. He frowned in confusion and surprise. And from one second to the next his expression was ice cold. How could you be alive with compound V in your blood and still be human? What were you?

"Who did this? Why are you still alive?", he pulled on your arm so hard that it almost broke. As shocked as you were, there was absolutely nothing you could do. Especially not when Homelander grabbed your jaw and squeezed it tight. "Answer me!", he roared before being thrown backwards with great force.

When you turned around, you saw Ben. Well, the pissed off version of Ben. With quick and heavy steps, he walked determinedly towards Homelander, who stood up again within seconds. "You did that!". He knew as soon as he recognized Soldier Boy. “If you want to fight, then fucking fight! But do like a man and stop scaring little girls, like a little pussy”, Ben hissed and swung his shield, but only hit the street, which immediately opened up as Homelander quickly turned to the side. "What was your plan?", Homelander looked at Ben with his crazy eyes and wide grin. Ben swung again, but missed his target again. “Did you want to equate her with us and it didn’t work? Maybe I should try it".

That was all Ben needed to escalate. With anger flaring within him, he lunged at Homelander and started a actual fight. Meanwhile, trying to ignore your dizziness and racing heart, you fished your phone out of your pocket and called Butcher.

"We'll be right there, darling", Butcher grinned on the other end of the line before gathering the others and heading out.

The minutes before Butcher and the others arrived seemed like hours. And all you could do was watch helplessly as Ben and Homelander beat each other to death.

However, when Ben was on the floor with Homelander on top of him and you saw Homelander's eyes start to glow red, you knew you had to do something. Ben’s chest began to glow too, but you knew he wouldn’t recharge in time. As if guided by an invisible force, you grabbed the nearest stick from the ground, run towards the two of them and ram the stick into Homelander's ear. He roared, fell to the ground and while you were still on top of Ben and his burning chest, Ben pushed you away with all his strength before finally exploding.

It was a blessing that Butcher showed up at that exact moment and with great difficulty catched you before you hit the ground. While Annie sprinted off with Hughie to find Homelander, Butcher handed you off to MM before he and Kimiko ran into the cloud of dust surrounding Soldier Boy.

“It’s okay, I can stand”, you murmured. MM carefully lowered you to the ground, keeping an eye on you as you frantically asked about Ben. You started to run, but Frenchie stopped you with a hug from behind. “Wait”, he murmured and like MM, looked expectantly at the dust that was slowly but surely dissipating.

It seemed like you couldn't catch your breath until you saw Ben walking towards you. As always, unharmed. When he arrived with Butcher and Kimiko, he brushed the dust off his suit and looked around. “Fucking pussy. Hiding somewhere”, he cursed under his breath as he continued to look out for Homelander, not noticing how his arm had found its way around your waist. He held you protectively, just inches away from his body as he scanned the entire area. Butcher looked at the two of you thoughtfully, but was brought out of his thoughts by Kimiko, who nudged him with her elbow as Hughie and Annie returned. “There’s no sign of Homelander", Hughie announced between heavy breaths. "Fucking amazing!”, Butcher cursed loudly and hit the nearest lantern so hard that it fell over and shattered with a loud crack.

As Butcher and Hughie discussed what to do, you only now became aware of Ben's tight grip on your body. You looked up at him, breathless. Only when your eyes met did he lower his arm and take a step away from you.

A few minutes later you were in the backseat of Hughie's car with Ben. Annie at the wheel and Hughie in the passenger seat.

“How did you even know where I was?”, You looked sideways at Ben as he swallowed a few pills so he wouldn’t have to endure all this shit sober anymore. “Don’t bother”, he murmured, crossing his arms and closing his eyes, hoping you would let the subject go. “The fuck, Ben. Why can’t you just talk to me?”, you raised both hands angrily. "Why can't you just shut the fuck up?", he replied monotonously, his eyes still closed.

You just groaned in annoyance because you knew he wouldn't tell you anything in front of Annie and Hughie anyway. His moods would probably give you whiplash at some point.

When you got home, you wanted nothing more than to fall into your soft and warm bed and forget the last 3 days. Unfortunately, Butcher had other plans. First he wanted to discuss what had just happened.

The meeting went slowly. And while Ben could at least get drunk and snort one line after another, you had to endure it all sober and tired. You felt like you were at marriage counseling as Butcher paced in front of you and the couch, you answered questions, and Ben either sniffed oder drank.

When Butcher finally left you alone after almost an hour, you followed Ben into his room.

“(y/n). Seriously. What the fuck do you want?”, He groaned in annoyance as he sank onto his bed and you closed the door behind him.

“I wanted to thank you. For saving my life. Again”, you sighed, dropping your hands. “And", you walked over to him and sat down onto the bed next to Ben. “I want to know what all the Supe Blood stuff means. Homelander said I wasn't a Supe. What am I? What have you done to me, Ben?”.

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A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 7

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @kaz11283 @uncle-eggy

[comfreyhollywings]

pac reading - need self-love tips? c'mere.

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             L O A D I N G . . .

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pile 1. 

protect yourself. 

i don’t think you quite know how valuable your energy is

like.. guys. i feel like we need to have a lesson solely on the beauty of pouring into your own cup, and to force yall to see how others are inspired by that.

and when you’re in that state where you can just flow; to protect yourself, you naturally shine so bright.

just now— a black wisp of smoke just hovered right in front of my eyes before dissipating. there’s a lot more smoke coming out of my candle purging out this smoke as we speak. 

that’s naturally a sign for me that.. if you love yourself; if you want to invest more into yourself, purge the things that are unnecessarily sucking your energy away.

aka energy vampires (doesn’t have to be this figure, could be an energy in your life)

like.. i think… when you properly pour into yourself, you tend to have a lot to give. while this is naturally a good thing to have such a generous heart, you can’t give forever. you can’t give from a place of depletion 

especially if others only know how to take, take, take. 

there’s something a former mentor said to me in this regard.

“the issue is that giving relentlessly can solicit the very sort of people who have no second thoughts about taking, and never giving. and it's not even always malicious. it's just their dysfunction meets another dysfunction.” 

take it from me, someone who’s currently still learning this lesson right now. 

i will be so real with y’all

 i’m currently going through a period where i’ve distanced myself from my partner of (seven-ish) months after learning that i was the one putting in more effort in emotional labor than my partner. 

and it’s not even that my partner had malicious intentions about it 

it was just that 

he hadn’t developed the emotional maturity let alone apply it to his life. and it’s shit that he had to figure out. 

because of this, i felt as if i had to partly take on the burden. not that it was a conscious thing, but it was moreso subconscious where i was driven by kindness to pour into him

as that’s what any decent human being would do, right?

but the taking. it kept taking, taking, and taking. the reciprocity wasn’t really… there much anymore. 

codependent tendencies? yes. and it’s shit he individually has to figure out. 

the same energy applies to your situation. i’m not sure if these are things you also are sorting out right now, but please know this: 

you can act from a place of kindness. absolutely. depending on your situation, you don’t have to cut them off. (if you’re in an abusive dynamic, that’s another story. you CANNOT fix them. you CANNOT change them, period. please get out asap as much as you can. i’ll provide resources. ) 

you’ll naturally feel like an asshole when you set up boundaries, when you distance yourself, etc etc. 

but the thing is that you will need that. to drive yourself to the brink of exhaustion for the sake of others leaves you with little energy for yourself.

like… you fight for others, but who will fight for you? you know? especially when you don’t even recognize the situation you’re in?

prioritize yourself more. examine your needs closely. get out of situations that you know is going to drain you. 

maybe it’ll feel like shit initially. like, of course these are bad habits you need to address.

but i promise you, it’s worth it. please keep going. 

pile 2. 

be gentle with yourself.

two things you must foster: your autonomy and your sense of abundance.

in simple terms: you’re worth being a fucking person standing on your own, you stubborn little fucking gem.  

you’re not like. this idealized concept that people make out of you.

you’re not a goddamn concept.

you’re a person. a living, breathing person with needs and wants and dreams 

goddammit you deserve to be loved.

please treat yourself with a lot more kindness and autonomy than you have ever done with the people you love.

gods know you deserve it 

like christ 

this is my pile who probably has self-esteem issues, huh (i say that as if i don’t have weird shit going on with my self-esteem but whatever) 

work, work, work. it’s always work with others. it’s always prioritizing their needs before your own.

it’s the tight ball you feel in your chest that gets lodged up inside your throat. it’s the hard swallow as you bite your tongue back. it’s the coughing when you’re in the middle of a sentence before someone takes over without any regard for you. 

and it’s not like you’re unable to redirect the spotlight over to you. you absolutely can. 

however. like

god forbid you make mistakes right? like, god forbid that you don’t run your mind through a fucking cheese grater if you’re not like a radar.

god forbid you’re not constantly detecting what preconceived faults you have of yourself. 

because if you don’t, are you even worthy of love at all? 

here’s a secret: you don’t need to work to earn love. your self-worth isn't dictated by how much you pump out to the world.

yes, it requires work to keep love alive, but there’s a vast difference between that and EARNING love. 

you are worthy. you are seen. you are accepted for the way that you are.

all of you.

your flaws, your tics, your anger, your hurt, and your sorrow. 

and likewise, your love, your passions, your healing, and your joy. 

you are worth being gentle to yourself. you are worth the grace you extend out for others. you are worth taking up space. 

take off the mask. take off the notion of “perfection”. take off the need to people please. take off the need for constant validation outside of yourself.

sit with yourself. journal. purge. and forgive yourself for the things you’ve been unfair to you about. all of these judgments and old standards that don’t serve you anymore, that you punish yourself for. 

you’re enough. stop it. 

c’mere pile 2, let me hug you.

you are worthy of it all, my loves.

pile 3. 

listen to yourself. give yourself the space to let your voice be heard. 

you have such a wonderful, unique, and creative voice that you restrain others from hearing. 

it roots back to pile 2’s perceived ‘imperfections’ that they try to adhere to

thus, resulting in them being harsh on themselves. 

so let me tell you this: you are lovely. 

and your voice deserves to be heard. 

additionally, your voice is not just deserving 

it’s needed for a time like this. you have a message specifically encoded to you that you’ll have to ground and manifest into the world through your creative works, and it’s time for you to see that.

it’s time for you to honor the creativity bestowed upon you because that is your voice that’ll touch people’s hearts. 

that’s the voice that you need to hear from yourself the most. 

let things flow, let things come, let them be like water. let your creations permeate and adapt to objects, places, and people. 

let it breathe, let it live rather than killing it prematurely. 

as i’m writing, i’m hearing this song: frequency by jhene aiko. 

a lot of that song talks about blessings and freedom. freeing cities, freeing their seed (the next generation), giving freedom and mercy. it talks about anointing, pouring that oil so that the generations before and after can become kings and queens. 

this is a very universal and empathetic song that got channelled out.

so i feel like in many forms no matter the genre, whether it’s through a medium like writing, game dev, videos, podcast, art, and so on 

all of your works have these themes in common: freedom, blessings, and generations. 

what i want to warn you about though in pursuing your art forms

don’t let ego get the best of you. 

now i’m not necessarily talking about arrogance (though that very well might be the case but that normally lies within a much deeper issue of having your self-esteem bloat as a way to overcompensate for your idea of self-worth) 

i’m talking about letting your insecurities of looking ‘stupid’ get the best of you because you risk ‘cringing’ at your works. 

but the thing with art is that you’re going to have to be stupidly earnest because that is your entire essence. 

and if you think about it, a lot of cringe is just

sincere? and earnest?

just get it out there. don’t compare yourself to anybody. your journey is your own, so there’s no need to be anyone or anything

be you 

that’s all that matters. 

trust me, the you authentically reading this is more powerful than any heroes/idols that you’ve ever grown up putting on a pedestal. 

kill your heroes, put down that pedestal. 

you’re just as worthy of creating; your heroes are no better than you.