#feeling so normal and good and fine and right

[screampied]

JUNO, YOU KNOW! k. nanami

☆ sum. last thing nanami would expect was to get struck by a “fatal” love curse during the very end of no nut november. you tease him even more by saying one of you is cute….but two though?

wc. 8.1k

warnings. fem! reader, husband! nanami, unprotected, sēx pollen, mentions of pregnancy, fluffy smut <3, handcuffs, brēeding, cunnīlingus, him finishing too quick, cowgirl, praise, soft dom! nanami, cērvix mentions, size kink, he's soooo whipped n in love w youuu, (bless his dad's genetics), boob obsessed nanami, aftercare, petnames.

an. my entry for @luv-lies's yummy nnn collab! ❤︎

november 29th, 2024. 6:09 P.M.

december was right around the corner - but oh, was nanami kento fuckin’ screwed.

“nanamin!” satoru—his colleague hollered, speedily rushing over to him. they’d just defeated an unarmed A-cursed spirit unlike any they’d ever seen before. it was quite strong, but it was nothing the pair couldn’t handle. satoru glances down, extending out his hand. nanami grunts, swiping a hand over his sweat-glossed forehead before sighing. he’s a bit roughed up but takes satoru’s cold palm with an irked grumble. “you alright? that was quite the hard hit.”

“ ‘m fine, gojo,” he grouses, readjusting his glasses. with a swift hand, he fixes his crooked tie. “just hah- underestimated the opponent. don’t fret.”

he wasn’t ‘just fine’ though. nanami felt his entire body starting to arise with scorching temperature within a matter of seconds. he’s boiling hot- and it felt like his heart was pounding straight out of his chest. perplexed, satoru furrows a snowy brow at his comrade once he notices his awkward body language.

“what do you need? tell me- maybe we can-”

nanami was clenching his chest with one hand, panting heavily before letting off a raspy huff.

“i need . . my wife.”

the car ride home was silent.

satoru offered to take him home, wondering just what really happened. nanami was as stubborn as a mule though, so he didn’t question it further. he’d rather not get scolded. his head rests against the tented window as he stares outside.

driving through the rutted bumpy roads of tokyo, nanami’s droopy eyes occasionally drifted away from the bright street lights that merely blinded his naked eye from gazing a bit too long.

as usual, the city was packed, dozens of cars zooming by with the flashy beaming store signs. in the background, some random song was playing. it was pop—and of course, satoru was loudly humming along to the catchy poppy melody.

the lyrics were quite . . vulgar though, but nanami still remained quiet, focusing his eyes on the streets.

skrrrrrrrt!

satoru’s breaks eventually come to a stop. it was about maybe a good ten-minute drive and he arrived at you and nanami’s cozy minka. the light was on so he assumed you were probably still up. placing the rusty shift in the park, the white-haired sorcerer turns to nanami with a cheeky grin.

“take it easy, alright? ‘m sure the curse will wear off at some point,” and nanami scoffs once his palm pats his shoulder. reaching for his seatbelt, the blond click it off before unlocking the door. “oh! and tell your wifey i said hi!”

“sure thing, gojo.” nanami stops himself from rolling his eyes, reaching near the backseat to retrieve his dusty suitcase. with a loud vroooom, satoru’s aqua-blue convertible takes off and nanami starts to make his way toward the door.

glancing down, he fishes for his keys in his pocket, grumbling under his breath.

god- he feels so damn hot. even hotter than when the attack occurred..

was this supposed to be normal?

all he knew was that he wanted, no- he needed you.

something in his body . . whatever it was, was direly aching for you.

the entire car ride, nanami’s mind was entirely flooded with thoughts of you, you, and only you.

whenever he had missions, he’d always think about you, sure. but this time- this time was far, far different.

he felt like he was gonna melt right away if he didn’t touch you, if he didn’t smell you-

“ken…to?” you murmur with a quirked brow, standing behind the tall sliding door. nanami stiffly stood at the doorway, keys still idly in hand with the most dumbfounded look.

oh- he was so kept in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize you had already slid the door open.

you looked so pretty though. nanami could feel his face softening once his eyes locked onto you.

it was pretty dark at night but like always, he could make out your gorgeous physique as clear as day. you were actually wearing one of his business shirts with what he hoped were panties underneath once he took a glance between your bare thighs.

his fawn eyes continue to trace down every exposing inch of your skin, and he snaps back into reality once he feels your palm cup his cheek.

“hi, baby. how was the mission?” you hum.

“not hah- that good,” he pants, and you furrow your brows once he steps inside, sliding the door closed and tossing his suitcase to the floor. it lands with a banging thud, and nanami pulls you into a hug.

a coy smile goes against your lips, wondering why he’s being more clingy than usual, but nanami rests his face right on top of your chest. letting off a smoky sigh, he roughly grumbles, gently rubbing a thumb against your hips. “mmf- i missed you, sweetheart.”

with a soft expression, you comb a few tangled fingers through his blond tresses. “i missed you more.”

“no- i really missed you,” he protests, and you can see a bit of a pout forming against his lips. nanami’s drowsy eyes trail down at the bit of skin that shows through his shirt. it was a bit loosely oversized, and you smelled just like him. his cologne was good on you. so good.

uh oh- he was starting to feel even more hot.

just resting against your chest had him hearing the repetitively unsteady beats of his heart through each of his sensitive pointed ears. “at the mission today . . i got struck by a curse.”

with a worrying look, your face shifts into a look of concern. “a- are you okay? what happened?”

“ ‘m fine,” he lets out a muffled huff of reassurance. nanami breathes against your skin, sweetly planting kisses against the cotton fabric that shields the entirety of your chest. “i feel really hot though.. everywhere- not just my head,” he speaks once the back of your hand lands on his forehead, checking for a temperature.

indeed, he felt hot.

sepia-colored irises flicker up toward you before he shivers. “when you . . touch me, honey- it makes me feel weak. hah- like i feel-”

“aroused?” you finish his sentence, your concerned look slowly disappearing.

oh.

thankfully, it wasn’t anything serious . . or was it?

nanami stares at you with a cute head nod being his answer as you press a kiss on his warm forehead. “so was it some type of love curse?”

nanami’s breath becomes deeper as he takes a minute to formulate words in his overstimulated brain. “m- maybe. all i know is that i just- i want you…i need you,” and he sighs deeply, eyes lowering. “you look beautiful tonight by the way.”

“it’s still november, baby,” you tease, knowing exactly where he was going with his gruff words. nanami had a feral hungry look in his eyes, and it looked like no other expression of his you’ve seen before.

he lets off a frustrated groan at your words, remembering the little ‘challenge’ you both agreed on once halloween ended.

ah- ‘no nut november’.

where men have to apparently abstain from masturbation and cumming—according to you, specially for the entire month of november.

not that nanami necessarily minded, he had a pretty good tolerance, actually.

but today, of all days?

he felt like he was about to break. being so close to your proximity had nanami’s head spinning.

his face - it’s overly flushed. a pretty tint of pink starts to slowly paint his face as he pouts at you.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen your husband like this—let alone pout. “we made a deal, remember?” you continue, caressing a thumb across his cheek. his chin was still resting on your chest and you could see the frown marinating against his features. “december first.”

“but-” he grunts, watching the smug grin spread across your glossed lips. nanami gets sheepish, tilting his head down. “sweetheart- i know that, but you’re bein’ pretty cruel right now, no?” and you glance down, feeling his lips collide against the skin that briefly exposes your tummy. “do you always wear my work shirts when i’m not home?”

“yeaaah,” you admit, letting off a tiny snicker. nanami feels your shoulders slacken once you release a single breath, and you stare straight into his eyes.

his eyes however, never left yours, not for a millisecond. as the gaze continued, you could see the beads of sweat starting to race down each side of his forehead.

oh-

maybe the curse was serious. getting an idea you decide to amp up your teasing just a bit. “do you wanna know what i was doing earlier while wearing your dress shirt?”

nanami places chaste kisses between the valley of your breasts. “uh huh. tell me, wifey.”

“i . . might’ve been playin’ with myself,” you sweetly speak, and he could hear the tease lacing underneath your sentence.

the more you spoke about what you were doing, nanami was starting to feel even hotter-

and the pure image of you touching yourself with his button-front shirt on, engulfed in nothing but his musky cologne made him groan. it was clear you weren’t wearing panties. he couldn’t help but peek, and sure enough—you were going commando.

nanami keeps his lovingly longing gaze and slowly, he raises his head from between your chest, raising a brow as if silently saying, ‘continue.’

with a cheeky smile, you wrap your arms around his torso. “i couldn’t make myself finish though. my fingers aren’t as long as yours. so, i ended up falling asleep and i had a dream. about . . us.”

“i see,” nanami huskily utters, sinking his head into your left shoulder. you just smelled so so sweet — sweeter ever, and you could see nanami trying to restrain himself. clearing his throat, nanami invades an entire side of your neck with wet, loving kisses. “what was the dream, princess?”

now it was your turn for your heart to start racing.

it was quick, beating at such high beats per minute. with an impish expression, you cup his chin and make him face you.

tenderly rubbing a thumb over his lips, you finish what your cute, lewd admission. “i…uh- dreamt about you retiring as a sorcerer. or you have a safer job that makes you less stressed. we finally . . settled down, and we um . . ended up having kids.”

“kids, huh,” he whispers, dragging a hand through his blond strands. you could feel his feverish heat radiate against your skin and you were surrounded by his balmy warmth.

he wasn’t exaggerating—nanami was truly, truly burning up. the buds on his tongue sizzle each time he takes a fateful second to swallow, salivating the more his eyes focus on you. nanami ponders for a moment silently, and before you know it, he’s picking you up.

you let off a cute surprised gasp, hurling your arms around his neck before watching him sigh. “ah- don’t get shy, my sweet. keep going.”

nanami continues to walk with you in his arms, going up the creaking, wooden stairs and you run a few fingers down your exposed nape.

“we . . had about maybe two or three. you even started growing facial hair too,” and nanami’s grip on your hips softens. he raises a blond brow before trodding inside the quiet bedroom. “you’d make a good dad though, ken,” you purr, running a finger down his amber-dotted tie. “could you imagine though? one of me is cute, but two though?”

“honey-” he cuts off, lying you flat back against the mattress.

with a split-second glimpse underneath the oversized formal shirt you wore—indeed, you weren’t wearing any panties. he had to check just one more time.

nanami starts to pant heavily, watching as you playfully lift your leg, throwing it over his shoulder. “is that- is that what you want? to settle down?”

“only if . . you want to.” you murmur in a soft tone, deeply getting lost in his golden-hour gaze.

nanami’s eyes were bright, shining with nothing but love and adoration for you - always.

if you squinted just enough, you could see his pupils forming into cute-shaped hearts.

grabbing his hand, you place it on your tummy, sliding it underneath the buttoned shirt.

“i want… you,” he huffs, his voice turning from tender to raspy within seconds. nanami leans in and presses his lips against yours. his dimples happily curve forward once you immediately return the gesture, cupping his face with both hands.

right away, nanami moans against your lips as his hot tongue blissfully shoves itself inside your mouth. minty peppermint — it’s exactly what he tasted like, and his cool breath running against your tongue only made him taste sweeter.

nanami couldn’t help but roll his hips against you with his sweaty forehead softly pressed on top of yours.

each popping smack of hungry lips got louder, and he heard the faint clanks of his belt shuffling. you slid a hand down, reaching for the middle part of his pants. you’ve shared many kisses with nanami, but this one seemed different..

a current of chills ran down your spine as he deepened the passionate kiss as the callused tips of nanami’s fingers unbuttoned his shirt.

speaking of his shirt though—he just couldn’t get over how much his shirt was just prettily glued against your skin.

“god- this month’s been torture, sweetheart,” he’d breathe between nearly suffocating kisses.

nanami’s lungs were full, and he’d sometimes even forget to breathe. such full lungs of his were heaving in and out continuously, desperate for any sort of puffs.

they had to find air, they just had to..

but nanami didn’t care about breathing, not when he had his lips ardently locked against yours.

“couldn’t- stop- thinkin’- ‘bout- you-” he grunted in a hoarse tone, sweetly sucking against your lolled tongue. its mushy warmth invites him to continue, and you briefly open your lashes to stare straight into a very needy nanami’s eyes. “hah- you were all i thought about at work today.”

“mhm, breathe, kento,” you whisper, feeling your lips swell the minute he pulls away.

a web of gluey saliva leaves from both sets of puffed lips and he breathes like you said. with a looooong inhale, nanami then exhales before grunting. you simper, tugging on the hem of his beige boxers. “maybe i can . . help with that curse?”

and you did.

in more ways than one, really.

to be brief, nanami kento was a feral man-

he felt himself turning into a brand new man the second his tongue graciously rolls itself flat against the flatness of your pretty twitching clit.

a sharp gasp winds straight out of your lungs as you’re sat with your legs obtusely spread to a wide degree.

with your hands burying themselves underneath your plushy tits as he devoured you—you couldn’t help but toy with yourself for a bit. moaning, a thumb trails its way down against one of your puckered nipples that poke through the fleecy blue dress shirt.

“k- kentooo.” you’d hum out a whimper, a hand finding its way near the top of his head.

he’s slow… badly wanting to savor your sweet taste on his tongue while eating you out like the starved, starved man that he was.

wisping a bundle of fingers through his blond locks, you continue to cup one of your tits with one hand. long, thirsty sluuuurps exited from nanami’s lips as you watched his head frantically shake from side to side.

your tummy was already seizing, and the heel of your ankle started to guide its way down his back. wet, sloshing noises ricocheted against nanami’s lips as his eyes periodically averted back towards you.

he’s giving you the ‘i wanna marry you again’ stare, no doubt. even with his mouth stuffed, nanami kento’s never felt more in love—

maybe this love curse . . pollen, whatever it was was a secret blessing in disguise.

the panicky, racing beats of nanami’s heart never slowed, and a hand of his then grips your thigh. tenderly, you feel the tip of his tongue dipping its way in ‘n out — wetly lathering his pink twitching muscle with your sweet slickness.

your eyes remain on him the entire time, getting forevermore lost in his crave-like gaze. “shh- talk later, princess. promise.” he whispers against your cunt, delving his tongue in swerving, wide circles.

those wide circles eventually curve their way into hearts, though. a whine sobs its way from the back of your throat as the grip on his hair tightens.

you felt the scaly, hot of his tongue create the perfect heart . . even spelling out the simple eight letters of ‘i love you.’

your legs couldn’t hold still, they just couldn’t- and you could feel the skittish smile forming against his lips, tickling against your pussy.

you were drooling from your entrance, right from the puffy slavering slit down. you’re flooded, soddened with such amounts of dewy dewdrops that form into strings, and in a way though, it was pretty.

nanami was just struck in awe at how much you were just profusely leaking. like the gentleman nanami was though, he lapped it right up. his rose-swollen lips cupped everywhere, smothering the crevices of your sheeny thighs with his many, many kisses.

“r- riiiight there, ‘ken,” you’d mewl out a desperate plea, slowly dragging his head against your cunt. it’s moving around in a hypnotizing circle, but if it was anything that was leaving you in a mere trance of a state, it was his tongue.

nanami explores through every puffy wet corner, sloppily slotting his tongue in between your pudgy folds. he grunts against your throbbing heat, feeling the weight of his impatient boner prodding beneath his cotton-made boxers. “mngh- gonna cum. ‘m gonna cum, kento.”

“do it for me,” he soundlessly says, vertically smearing a fat thumb down your slimy pussy.

your entrance was soaked-

tearing away with drooling droplets of slick. every time. he was so enticed that he had to take a minute to just stare at your cunt—admiring how wet his pretty, perfect girl was - just for him.

nanami was entranced once he moved his face closer. the tip of his button nose then literally starts to drag itself down your sobbing slit and he moans, taking in your natural scent. “hah- c’mon, sweetheart. give it t’ me,” and he brings his ring finger right up against your core.

it’s a lanky finger that starts to bedaub against your cunt, feeling you writhe at the sensitive contact.

you whine, feeling his ring finger rub its way against your heat before poking your tongue against your cheek to silence yourself.

as you watch, his digit gets covered with your mess almost immediately, and you shudder at the cold band of his ring toying with your salivating folds. “pretty please-” and oh- he’s begging.

a blond brow of nanami’s quivers as his lips attach back to your cunt. sticky, glistening strings of arousal rills straight down his forward-pointed chin as he continues to rub the back of his wedding ring against your pulsating clit.

it’s icy cold.. you felt him keep up the pace as the material of the band smears itself around in circles before feeling a coil in your tummy tightening.

the pressure makes you see stars for a hot second—and you’re met with a bundle of nerves trying to introduce itself to the lower depths of your stomach. “ ‘m cumming!” you’d blurt in a staggering wail.

the crashing wave of endorphins made you exhale a cute sigh as your legs started to get more and more numb.

you felt like you were floating on every single cloud, including cloud nine - especially cloud nine.

nanami’s tongue still slid its way in between the slot your sappy folds, feeling the cute twitches of your throbbing clit against his bumpy tastebuds as you start to spasm. “fuh- fuck! ‘ken ‘m sensitive, baby.” and your words turn into a mere hush once your body started to limp its way onto the sheets.

your thighs locked around his neck, and you still had his hair in a firm grasp, digging your fingers deep into his roots and scalp.

with widened doe-eyes, you glance back down toward your husband who’s merrily licking you clean without a single care in the world.

if the beats of your heart was a car, you’d be speeding.

it’s beating so fast out of your chest that you can barely keep up. your legs felt like mush as your neck finally gave up, collapsing back against your pillow.

“mmh- should’ve just stayed . . hah- stayed home today,” he grumbles, giving every glossed part of your exposed cunt individual kisses. nanami starts at your pretty clitoral hood, sprightly nibbling at the tender fold of skin. you whine, yanking his head forward before nanami pats your pussy. “could’ve been playin’ with her a- all day.”

“you’re here now.” you speak out of breath, pulling his head back up. once you do so, nanami looks at you with the most pussy drunk expression.

his lips were all plump and red, lashes merely sticking together, and glossed sleek streams of slick racing down his chin. nanami leans into your touch, sitting up before leaning in to kiss you.

again- his tongue sloppily carved a wet trail through your mouth, and you moan once you feel the tint of his boner press up against your bare cunt.

he’s so hard, you wondered if it was painful. you swallowed each grunt of his in your mouth, feeling his body hungrily rock against yours.

a few ash tresses stick against his forehead as his lips violently crash onto yours—creating an impactful collision.

as dancing tongues swiftly twisted and spiraled around each other in sync, you hear a bit of shuffling again.

nanami's reaching into his boxers, grunting against your lips once he feels the anchoring weight of his heavy cock lie flat against his palm. “m- mhm, sweetheart.” he throatily groans, feeling your hand slip inside of his boxers too.

you feel a lightning-shaped vein shoot down his skin and he grunts. nanami was as sensitive as ever, and with your hands softly tracing circles over his bulky triceps, he knew he was in trouble.

deep, deep trouble..

“it’s okay, ‘ken,” you whisper, letting off a sharp inhale once his fiery hot tip smears its way on your cunt.

it’s almost flat out rude at first—with the way it smacks against your folds, creating a wet splash that lands right on his bulbous crown.

from the stout tip that’s round at all thick corners, nanami’s leaking.

milky, pearls of whiteness dribble from the fleshy sides of his fat cock and he grunts once he feels your shaky legs caging him in again.

god- you looked so pretty like this..

just laid back, wearing nothing but his business shirt. all the buttons were unbuttoned so now—it was just you, breasts cutely sprung out and all.

gently grabbing his face once more, you mumble against his flushed temple. “inside, it’s okay. go inside,” and your sweet words were like a chant.

he’s slow-

carefully aligning his maroon tip between your syrupy slit, feeling it clumsily slip out every few thrusts.

you even reached between your legs with a single hand, spreading your pussy open right before his eyes. “don’t be… shy, she doesn’t bite, kento.”

“hhh.. woman- you’re gonna be the death of me,” nanami gulps, openly staring at the slippery heat stick between your legs.

he didn’t know which action had him feeling hotter. your filthy words, you, or the way you spread yourself open for him with just two, cute fingers.

two twinned digits pried your lower lips apart, and he grunts once the swollen head of his cock snugly pops its way past your gummy barrier.

“hngh,” nanami sucks his teeth, pressing his forehead against yours. his palm rests on your tummy before he gives you a tender glance. “is this . . alright?”

chewing on your lip, you moan out a, “y- yeah.” before touching the back of his hand.

nanami’s face softens before he eases himself further inside, squeezing past that cute ring of your entrance that’s just always oh-so tight!

nanami was as round as a teddy bear. a few years into your loving marriage you noticed how he started growing a soft bear-type body, especially with the winter rolling around.

not that you minded, he was the perfect subject for cuddling. in this case, though, he was perfect for gradually placing his weight on you—to which you always ended up loved.

with his dress shirt all wrinkled and unkempt thanks to you, nanami sheathed his face inside of your neck. “g- goddd, ‘s like when i’m inside i feel even hotter.”

the love curse ran through all nanami’s veins, including invading near his bloodstream and every jabbing axon that continued to pulse through his achingly, hot skin.

eventually through . . after a very long three minutes, his gravelly pants started to turn more and more raspy.

browned eyes of nanami’s turn tender at your gaze once you grab both sides of his face, rubbing circles around his hollow cheeks with the soft tips of your thumbs. “don’t hide, look at me.”

“heh- yes ma’am.” he gruffly whispers, tilting his cheek, leaning into your touch.

nanami was on top of you, glued to you entirely as if both bodies were made of pasty adhesive. with your ankle running down his back, it took everything within him to not moan.

every part — every single part of his body felt insanely sensitive to your touch.

nanami would occasionally bite his lip, finding his eyes rolling upward or even letting off a ‘phewww’ just from being a few inches inside of your intoxicating cunt.

as his cock’s driving its way inside at a slow pace, you watch nanami’s blond brows twist into a furrowing curve.

he’s sucking in every breath that tries to escape from him, groaning at each inch that sloppily disappears between your puffed folds. without even taking a glance—nanami could feel how wet you were, and not only were you preparing to milk him dry, but you were also drowning every girthy inch of his cock with all slick amounts of your pretty mess.

he didn’t have to look down because he could just feel – feel your compellingly, vulgar squelches, feel each slosh that sobs between your cunt folds, feel each pulsating throb that would convulse against your clit.

you’re just so damn pretty though..

staring back at him as he’s trying to make his way inside, nanami ends up getting lost in your gummy orifice that’s desperately clinging onto him as if its life depended on it. it’s almost cute..

“f- fuuck.” you’d whine, tugging at his ruffed-up cerulean collar. peering your eyes a bit, you see a bit of faded lipstick marks that were from you earlier this morning.

you smile to yourself, knowing nanami would always proudly show off those marks to any woman who dared look in his direction.

within a few inches deep, nanami’s creating an unforgettable gap that stretches your cunt fully open. he keeps his hooded eyes on you, pressing a few encouraging pecks near your plump, kiss-bitten lips.

he’s never felt so hot..

nanami snaps his hips into you once- just once, and he lets off the prettiest moan.

it sounds more like a whine—it pitches a bit higher than usual and he falls face flat into your chest.

you get sheepish, wrapping your arms around him before feeling him grunting between your breasts. “honey, i think i just . . came.”

“oh,” you breathe, and sure enough, you felt a lukewarm batch of cum starting to pool its way inside of you. your legs remained snaked around his waist and you could feel nanami’s ashamed pout stretch against your chest. you pat his head, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “it’s . . okay, ‘ken.” and he’s kissing all between the slope that runs down your soft tits—his comfort place.

you hum, lifting his head and watching him grumpily pout with loose blond strands running down his eyes. “i can always take the lead if you’re too sensitive.”

“please..”

♡ ♡ ♡

nanami looks up at you with a timid expression, his hands restrained at each side of the bed. gulping deeply, he watches as your slick-glossed cunt just barely floats over his creamy white tip. from the coral-colored sides, it’s a blushing pink…itching for you to be inside again.

just a single inch or the mere feeling of you swiping your entrance back ‘n forth against the peeling hood of cock makes him groan. “handcuffs, honey? this is quite…eh- kinky, no?” nanami raises an ash brow with a weary smile, soft, dusky eyes never leaving yours.

in fact—each time you run your hands down the open slit of his shirt that exposes his blond growing chest hair, he shudders.

just a few fingertips of yours alluringly ghosting down his skin was enough to make him melt. through semi-blurred peripherals, he spots a bright color that sticks against his wrists. “they’re . . pink,” he chuckles, “and fuzzy.”

“it came in the mail yesterday,” you coo at his observation, inching your face closer and starting to kiss down his neck. nanami inhales before sighing in rapture, positioning his head to the side so you could have a better angle and it’s unintentionally sexy. “it’s not too tight…is it?”

“it’s fine,” nanami shakes his head, preparing to take another deep breath once the opening of your pussy starts to sloppily split its way ajar.

you’re sinking on his shaft and he lets out a husky grumble—bulky muscles flexing through his biceps as his arms stretched across both sides of the leather headboard. “mmgh- atta girl. like that- like . . that.” and his voice seductively lowers an octave at every inch.

it was almost hypnotic at how much you were soaking him. truly, you were already soaked but now that your cunt was accepting his vast tip that was descending its way further inside of you, nanami wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last.

profusely, your pretty pussy was drowning him. nanami’s muscles continued to bulge through his shirt as he slouched back against the mattress, watching your hips starting to moderately pick up.

“s- sooo big.” you moan, the stretch wholly expanding through your walls. sometimes—you don’t think you’d ever get used to nanami’s size, let alone his thick, parting stretch.

clicking his tongue, nanami takes every second he can just to stare and openly admire your body.

effortless, you were just effortless with every moment you did.

every twirl, every toss and dip of your hips had him hungry for only more – more of you.

as your pace maintained its rocky rhythm, his eyes found themselves trailing further down, pausing between the crack of your pried-open legs.

seconds pass and they’re now leisurely making their way up your chest, pausing right between your plush rounded mounds.

you still had his business shirts as you rode him, and your tits freely sprung as your hips started to grind quicker. as your hips pathetically stuttered, so did the wooden legs of the bed. “hng- puttin’ me in handcuffs just so i can’t touch my hah- pretty wife, hm?”

nanami tries to joke, but you could already see him breaking a sweat once his cock explores deeper inside of your cunt – zigzagging a bumpy pattern all through your inside.

it’s making sure every part of you from the inside memorizes his hits, sloppy thrusts and all, and fuck- were you about to collapse right then and there.

the sides of nanami’s forehead were already heavily covered in perspiring sweat. with lush tears dribbling down every crevice and corner, nanami starts to huff.

“but baby, you always touch me,” you lively tease, tossing both arms over his tense, pent-up shoulders.

the bed lowly creaks every second, constantly dipping from all the constant movements and pounds that jolt against the rickety aged boxspring.

its constant croaky groans sounded almost painful—and the quicker your hips swerved around and bounced, the louder it cried in the background from both jerking bodies.

nanami pouts, shaking his head and you make him nod by cupping his chin. “yeah, you do.” you then surprise a part of his neck with wet, balmy kisses.

nanami gruffly grunts, desperately wishing his hands were roaming down every part of your body. tending to every part, allowing his fingers to explore every part.

he’d caress circles around your ass—guiding his callused, rough fingers up up up before they eventually reach near your waistline.

with a clingy grip, he’d start to rock your hips faster into him, making sure he pumps all nth inches deep inside until you’re babbling out incoherent cacophonies of his name and how you’re just so full..

but you noticed—nanami’s eyes were only focused on only one thing. your soft, perked breasts that bounced at the exact second your body did.

at each powerful hop and slam of your hips, they playfully jiggled, flopping against your chest. they were nearly smushed right in his face, and oh- he could feel his mouth shamefully watering at just imagining them being in his mouth.

“closer, sweetheart,” he grunts, tilting his head down since he couldn’t exactly use his hands.

you were riding him at such godly speed, swerving your hips at such frantic intervals while wetly clamping down on his cock.

nanami always filled you to the brim with all of him, poking right through your slickly dripping orifices with every bouncy thrust.

once more, it makes his head spin, but all he’s focused on is your chest that was staring straight back at him. “f- fuuuck, ‘m still h.. hot. i think- i think suckin’ on them will help me cool off, sweetheart.”

saucily cooing, you lick a stripe down his neck as your hips accelerated. as you continued to speak, your voice started to get a bit bumpy from the unsteady movement of your jouncing ass.

“oh- is that what you wanted all this time, ‘ken? to suck on these?” and he watches as you lean back, cupping your tits with the smuggest smile plastered on your lips.

your hands sneak down between your unbuttoned shirt before you silently mewl, giving them a nice good squeeze. “imagine jus’ how plumper they’d be after i have your baby, kento.”

“h.. honey- you’re lucky ‘m handcuffed.” bronze eyes trace down your skin, stopping at your perked nipples.

they were oh-so-perfect.. and as you’re straddled over his lap, nanami couldn’t help but let his mind wander just a bit. he couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander near the very lewd lobe of his brain.

the mental image of you baring his child . .

his wife, you.

nanami grunts at the thought, wordlessly gasping in multiple honed breaths at the fierce clashes of sharp skin.

your hips were disgustingly brutal, and with the way your thighs clung onto him, you were nearly akin to a magnet – forevermore sticking against nanami, never wanting to let go.

“c’mooon,” the blond playfully whines in a gruff voice, his cock stiffening inside of you. “don’t hah- make me beg, sweet girl.”

“you make me beg,” you chaff, slowing your hips down just a bit. nanami grunts at your catty truth, feeling the weight of you gradually hover before you roughly buck right into him.

using all of your core, his leaking tip smears its way against your clit in an almost pretty heart shape and you stutter out a moan.

your syllables of each broken moan were a bit choppy as you were shooting blanks, arching your back against him. even as you’re still riding him, putting all pounds of movement from your body into your sprawled knees, you kept touching yourself.

seeing you guide your hands all over your body in such a sensual way, made nanami kiss his teeth.

in envy though - those should’ve been his hands..

“allll. the. time.” you finish your sentence in a spirited whisper, whispering against the twitching left side of his ear.

each thrust becomes increasingly sloppy with your grip getting more slick ‘n wet — glossed which such sticky amounts of your tangled juices.

each squashing slop! that squelches from between the arc your legs get louder, causing your thighs to nearly clamp together from the tender stimulation.

cupping your tits again, you bring them up to nanami’s face. “go ‘head.”

“woman.. you’re evil,” nanami muffles, getting a face full of your breasts. you hold onto them tight, watching as nanami brings his face closer until he’s shoved right between them. a sweet crooning groan slithers from his lips as his tongue fervently curls its way down toward your nipple.

sloppily, you feel him casually swirling greedy circles around your pulsating gland before switching to the other one.

nanami’s lashes close as you’re still rocking your hips forward, nearly riding him into utter ‘n erotic oblivion..

at this point—you thought the bed was about to break, devastatingly snapping into two due to how good you were putting your hips to use.

“mmpf- so pretty. all mine, m- mine,” he rasps between wet slurps, his wrists still trapped in pretty pink handcuffs. the woolly fur tickles against his skin as his tongue continues to rove shapes around your nipples. “need to get these girls plump… quickly.”

your tits remained grasped in your hands as you’re moaning from nanami’s tongue, and you now start to rut into him at a much more hurried pace.

nanami hungrily drives his cock all through your core, creating a near race-track path that smothers invisible kisses all against your g-spot.

every inch, he’s fat- and his even lengthier girth nearly makes your brain short-circuit for a minute. every wild jam of your hips feels like its last, and nanami’s already drooling.

treacly, sweet saliva pours from the corners of his lips as he’s sucking on each of your tits, muffled gargled moans and whines vibrating against your tepid flesh..

your body had adapted to a more steady rhythm, but you could feel his dick eagerly twitch inside of you every few rushed seconds.

a bit of drool ends up running down his mouth, landing on his polka-dotted tie, creating a gray dampening spot. it’s cute, and you rub a thumb over his thin lips, watching his tawny, soft eyes flutter back open.

it’s the look of love- and nanami could feel himself heating up more once your gaze meets his again.

for a moment, he had completely forgotten about the dumb curse because he was too busy lost in your gaze.

but his temperature started to increase. you let off a bundle of whiny mewls once you feel him nip the top row of his teeth against your nipple.

“s- so cute,” he purrs lowly, feeling your knobbly thighs get closer and closer to giving out. just a few more thrusts and you’d probably be done for.

“mmp-” he pops out your left nipple with his swollen wet lips, glancing at you. nanami looked like he’d just run a marathon with blond strands glossing strips across his forehead. grunting, he starts to pant like a greyhound, sliding a tongue over his lips. “you’re close, honey?”

“m- mhm!” you’d reply, your voice turning raw at each straining moan that leaves from your poor chords.

his cock was massaging everywhere, it didn’t miss a single spot. it’s tip was widely turgid, angrily crimson-red, and leaking from all veiny sides while narrowly delving into you raw.

nanami’s kneading through your guts, tending to each gummy part of your entrance to make you whimper out his name. from every deep, vigorous pump that profoundly batters inside of your pussy, your eyes cross.

you’re dumbfounded—dumb in general too from the way he facilely located every sensitive spot with just the stubby tip of his shaft.

including your pretty cervix - nanami made sure his cock smacked its way there a few times.

the deep pressure pounding inside of you, greeting every single spot inside of your pussy never failed to make your knees quickly buckle.

“f- fuck, fuck there ‘ken, theretherethereee,” you start to babble, the bumps of his tip making your jaw goofily hang. “ ‘m cum- ‘m gonna cummm.”

“haah- together, sweetheart. can you . . finish with me?” nanami murmurs in a throaty voice, kissing your neck.

he tried to lift his head but got slightly pulled back from the fuzzy handcuffs.

he’s molding your insides fully with his cock, squinting a bit at the crescent-shaped moon that hides behind the violent bed curtain.

that view was nice but the view currently in front of him, riding him.. ‘curing’ him from whatever curse this was was far a better sight.

you.

with a whine preparing to squeal from your throat, you give him a nod.

nanami tilts his head, tsking impishly with his smacking lips despite how he was just as sensitive as you. “ah- you know how i feel about head nods, princess. i wanna hear those pretty words.”

“y.. yes ken, ‘kentoooo,” you moan, gasping once you feel two things at once. your stomach tightly seizing and your sloppy cunt restricting around his meaty, stocky length.

it’s so good, soso good that you softly bite into nanami’s shoulder. he hums, groaning right with you before you continue. “ ‘m cummin. ‘m fuckin’ cumming, kento.”

“i know.. i know, c’mere, girl,” he whispers, his face softening once your eyes immediately lock with him. “my sweet… girl.” his pitch lowers, and you decrease the distance between the two of you.

once again, your lips meet nanami’s but this time, it’s far more aggressive and less passionate.

it’s only one word and it’s – sloppy.

your body’s weakly rolling against him, losing its rhythm as the two of you end up finishing together, competing with each other’s inevitable high.

it all felt like a slow … rush.

as you were both drinking each other’s never-ending moans and grunts, the puddled, gooey mess began.

at the same time though, your legs ended up finally collapsing as your swollen, plump lips attacked against his - harshly.

nanami’s lips were almost competing with yours, mashing against your lips with the occasional rows teeth of teeth clash clash clashing away.

it’s loud, sloppy, messy..

the peppermint taste that still lingers in his mouth travels against your buds and you moan. nanami groans, spraying a geyser of bittersweet strips of hot cum inside of you as both tongues continue to explore each other’s mouths.

it’s a straight shot—it travels deep, introducing your womb with a fresh amount of cum as you end up letting go at the same time.

both sets of hearts fluttered as you pressed against his chest, racing frantic beats per minute as you melted the dozenth kiss he presented to your lips.

it’s hot- nanami’s rawly plunging into you as you whine against his lips, barely feeling your hips rutting into him anymore.

you’re just straddling him now – yet he’s still plugging you full with such massive inches of cock, with the addition of his creamy, gloopy seed that drizzles a sloppy white ring around his base.

your fingers wisp down his undercut, as he continues to quietly ravage your walls. it was a slick, slimy knot that buries itself deep inside of your pussy.

you’re moaning, slowly breaking away from his mouth that had strings of saliva clinging near the bottom of his glossed lip. panting heavily, you crane your head, taking a quick peek down at your ass.

it’s a mess, and as his carmine-colored tip slips out of you, it lightly smacks against his tummy.

ribbons of cum paint near the very undersides of your thighs, pouring out between your syrupy slit in such a slow yet filthy manner. time nearly stood still, and nanami went silent, staring at the gooey wads ‘n wads buttery cum that oozes out of your pretty, fluttering cunt.

“are you okay?” nanami sighs, feeling you reach for the handcuff key that rests near the rosy nightstand. you remove them, and he twirls his wrists in a circle before looking at you with kind eyes.

“ ‘m okay.” you reassure him, cupping his face and kissing the right side of his cheek.

nanami’s exhausted—especially after how good you just rode him.

your dripping cunt hovers against his happy trail and sheeny clenched abs as he lazily lies back, finally grabbing your hips. “good . . good,” and with a huff, he sheepishly smiles. “i guess i . . hah- failed no nut november, huh.”

“eh- there’s always next year,” you bring a chaste, sweet kiss to his quivering, pouty lips.

��� ♡ ♡

surrounded by nothing but bodies of water featuring sods of glittery clear bubbles, you now found yourself lying against nanami’s broad chest. burly, swole arms envelope around your body as the two of you were in the ivory, spacious bathtub. as the water ran against your skin, soothing your aching muscles—you let off a sigh once he finished washing you off.

“i think it wore off,” his warm voice tickles against your skin. nanami kisses down your nape, reaching near the side of the tub where a bowl of fresh muscat grapes lies. tearing a few off the vine, he brings them toward your lips. “the curse . . pollen, whatever it was.”

“mmpf- did it?” you eat from his hand, feeling his wet palm softly rub against your chin. the smell of rich jasmine hits your nostrils as you let off a satisfied hum at the sugary sweet flavor. nanami’s body held you close, feeling your damp body lightly plop against his chest. you feel a bit of his chest hair land against your skin before you swallow. “do you still feel hot?”

nanami pops another grape into your mouth, then into his. “no, sweetheart. i’m fine now, thanks to you,” and you feel his left arm hook around your waist. the blond reclines back against the tub’s icy marble-made wall before sighing. “how do you feel, though? any cramps or body aches i should be aware of?”

with a content suspire drifting away from your parted lips, you move a bit in the calm, lukewarm water — closer toward the back of his chest.

“i’m okay, kento. althooough,” and you give him a playful nudge. “my legs still feel sore.”

“forgive me, honey,” nanami rests his chin against your shoulder. there was a bit of jest in his tone, and you could hear him trying not to snicker.

again, always the gentleman though.

“i’ll give you a massage once we get out of the tub, my treat.” and you let off a sigh, feeling him creep a few fingers up your thigh.

“hmm, okay,” you comply with a sight sigh, sneaking a kiss near the edge of his lips. nanami blinks thrice, his face flushing a bit before you cup his face with wet hands.

“i was serious you know. about . . what i said earlier. us settling down and–,” and nanami deeply stares into your eyes as you speak.

you rub a wet thumb against his sharp cheekbone before continuing, abruptly cutting your cute rambling short, ending with a sincere, “i love you, kento.”

tilting his head against your palm, leaning into your embrace, nanami brings you toward him before kissing the crown of your head. “and i love you more,” and as you felt butterflies party in the lower pits of your stomach, nanami brings your hand up to his lips.

gently, he aligns his mouth perfectly near your fourth digit before giving you another kiss, this time—on your ring finger. “mrs. nanami.”

but oh- he wasn’t done..

as you’re feeling a wave of tenderness overwhelm your heart, nanami leans a bit down before kissing the center part of your tummy that drips with teary droplets.

his wetly compressed lips give it a quick peck and ‘mwah’ before keeping his head lowered. “i love her too.” you raise a brow, glancing as nanami’s chin hovers over the bubbles of water.

“her?” you lift a brow as he whispers multiple ‘i love you’s’ against your stomach as if he was already talking to something – or someone..

“yes, her,” nanami repeats, giving your tummy one more kiss before sitting back up, rubbing his palm over the center of your belly.

looking up at you, he notices your confused expression and smiles to himself. “oh, just a little hunch,” and you gasp once nanami picks you up softy, carrying you out the wet tub, the both of you soaking wet.

“now, how about that massage? i’m quite good with my hands, especially when it comes to my woman.”

[caffeineandsociety]

Anecdotally, I get the impression that this also happens in reverse - a lot of people who consider themselves very counterculture define their opinions by "whatever the OPPOSITE of what the government is doing is, THAT'S what's good," and this happens to people who identify as left-wing AND those who consider themselves right-wing. They're not a majority by any means, but anecdotally I can't help but feel they exist in significant enough proportions to have derailing effects on social movements.

On the right, it's easy to write off as "I can't believe you didn't expect the leopards to your face lmao" but in a lot of cases, they straight up would not have cared if it was their neighbor who owned the leopard instead of the government - or, possibly, they would have blamed the government for not controlling the leopard while STILL begging them to release their own, it really depends on the leopard.

On the left, in my lifetime, I've watched people go from "we NEED to legalize same-sex marriage" to "it's fine if we lose same-sex marriage actually, if it weren't a piddly compromise to keep bootlickers happy we would never have gotten it." The fact that we're seeing people, many from demographics that would not have been allowed to do so prior to 1920 at the earliest and who may have personally had parents or grandparents who had to FIGHT to secure that right, insist that voting is immoral actually and if it could do ANYTHING other than make things worse it would be illegal is another such case. I've met a small but present minority of people who have totally flipped on covid safety the other way - it was no big deal when the government was saying it was a danger, and in fact treating it as the crisis it is is just a sneaky way of sacrificing the most vulnerable by forcing them out of public life...and now that the government says it's no big deal and we need to return to normal, NOW it's a crisis.

Culture, law, and public opinion are all things that influence each other for better, worse, and a LOT of in between.

do you ever think about how public opinion is often formed by government policy, maybe even more often than the reverse?

[dreamscapeee222]

Hello! Hope your having a good day or even :)

I had an idea for the arcane reacting to finding out the reader has prosthetics (maybe like a ball jointed doll). For the reason that the reader often overs their hands in gloves and normally wears long pants so no one really knew. How did the arcane react to finding out and how?

Thanks if you do take my request! And take your time :)

A/n: This is such a unique idea. Here's how I imagine that ^^

You have prosthetics

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

Vi would be the type to stumble across the truth by accident—maybe during a sparring match or when you’re adjusting something on your prosthetics. She’d freeze for a moment, her brows furrowing in concern.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" she’d ask, her tone not accusatory but genuinely confused. When you explain it wasn’t something you wanted to share openly, she’d nod, understanding immediately. From then on, she’s fiercely protective of you, often cracking jokes to make you feel comfortable. "Hey, at least you won’t get cold feet, right?" But the softness in her eyes when she sees you adjusting your gloves says everything about how much she admires your strength.

Jinx

Jinx would probably notice something was off way before anyone else. Maybe she’d catch a glimpse of your hands moving in a way that didn’t feel "natural." When she finally discovers the truth, she’d be thrilled—"Oh, my gosh! You’re like a walking art piece!"

Jinx would constantly ask if she could decorate your prosthetics, pulling out paints, stickers, or gadgets she made herself. "C’mon, just one teeny tiny bomb launcher in your arm? Pleeease?" But underneath the playful exterior, she’d be deeply respectful of your boundaries and quick to stand up to anyone who dared make a comment about your prosthetics.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would notice small hints—a clicking sound, the way your movements were precise but deliberate—but would never press you on it. When she does find out, likely through you opening up to her, she’d be calm and measured.

"Thank you for trusting me," she’d say sincerely. Caitlyn would want to learn everything about your prosthetics—how they work, how they’re maintained, and if you need any support. She’d quietly ensure you have access to any resources or help you need, even going so far as to consult mechanics or tinkerers on your behalf without ever overstepping your boundaries.

Ekko

Ekko would probably find out during a repair session or a mission gone wrong. His reaction would be pure curiosity and awe.

"Wait, hold up—this is so cool," he’d say, crouching down to inspect your prosthetics (with your permission). "Did you build these? Who helped you? Can I?" He’d be deeply respectful of your privacy but would eagerly want to help upgrade or maintain your prosthetics if you’re okay with it. Ekko would see your prosthetics as a testament to your resilience and resourcefulness, often bringing it up when someone underestimates you: "They’ve literally rebuilt themselves. What’ve you done lately?"

Jayce

Jayce would probably find out when you were in a situation where your prosthetics needed repairs. He’d jump in to help, his mind immediately going into engineer mode.

"Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier? I could’ve helped you fine-tune these!" he’d say, clearly excited about the tech aspect. Jayce would want to involve you in the process, asking for your input and being genuinely respectful of your preferences. He’d also be the first to defend you if anyone made insensitive remarks, using his voice and status to shut them down instantly.

Viktor

Viktor would notice right away, his keen eye picking up on the small details you thought you were hiding. He wouldn’t say anything until you were ready to tell him, though. When you do, he’d be remarkably calm and empathetic.

"I understand what it’s like to live with… modifications," he’d say softly, gesturing to his own cane or leg brace. Viktor would admire your prosthetics for their functionality and beauty, offering subtle suggestions for improvements if you were open to it. He’d be the one to remind you that your prosthetics don’t define you but are instead a symbol of your strength.

Mel

Mel would approach the revelation with grace and tact. If she noticed something odd beforehand, she wouldn’t press you about it, waiting until you were comfortable enough to share. When you finally reveal your prosthetics, she’d offer you a warm, understanding smile.

"You’ve been carrying this secret all on your own," she’d say, her voice gentle but firm. "You don’t need to hide from me." Mel would never let anyone else treat you differently because of your prosthetics and would praise your strength and elegance often. She might even commission custom pieces to adorn your prosthetics if you were comfortable with it, seeing them as a unique extension of your beauty.

See pinned.

[vibeswithdivs]

He’s more patient than he looks

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

The hum of conversation filled the Red Bull Racing headquarters as employees bustled about with an energy that was almost infectious. Engineers huddled over laptops, mechanics leaned against tool racks with grease-streaked hands, and the faint smell of coffee lingered in the air. It was a world that thrummed with purpose, speed, and precision—qualities that the newcomer sitting at her desk felt slightly out of sync with.

You can do this, she told herself for the hundredth time that day.

Being a social media manager for one of the most prominent teams in Formula 1 was a dream job. Yet, as she stared at the screen, where a half-finished tweet about race day statistics blinked back at her, that dream felt a lot more like a free-fall. She wasn’t just crafting posts about breakfast specials or gym memberships anymore—she was managing the online presence of an entire racing empire.

And, truthfully, she was floundering.

“Morning!”

The cheerful voice made her jump, and she turned to see her colleague, Sophie, leaning over her cubicle wall with a grin. “How’s the newbie settling in?” Sophie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh… good!” she replied quickly, pasting on a smile that she hoped masked her nerves.

Sophie tilted her head, unconvinced. “You’ve been staring at that screen for an hour, and the only thing you’ve posted today is a retweet from Pirelli. Do you need help?”

“No, I’m just—” She paused, biting her lip. “I don’t even know what half these terms mean. DRS, power unit, undercut… it’s like everyone here is speaking a different language.”

Sophie’s face softened. “It is a different language,” she said with a chuckle. “Give it time. It’s only your first week. You’ll get the hang of it. And if you’re still lost, you’ve got plenty of people to ask.”

“Like who?”

“Like me,” Sophie said with a wink. “Or, if you’re feeling brave, you could ask the drivers. Max and Checo are usually good sports about answering questions.”

“Right,” she said, laughing nervously. “Because it’s totally normal to walk up to Max Verstappen and ask him to explain tire degradation.”

“You’d be surprised,” Sophie replied with a grin. “He’s more patient than he looks.”

She didn’t expect to test Sophie’s theory quite so soon. Later that afternoon, while she was setting up her phone to record a behind-the-scenes video in the garage, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Need help?”

She turned, almost dropping her phone when she saw Max Verstappen standing there, dressed in his Red Bull team kit and holding a bottle of water. His blue eyes were bright with curiosity, and his expression was disarmingly friendly.

“Uh… no! I mean, yes. Maybe?” she stammered, fumbling with the tripod. “Sorry, I’m still figuring all this out.”

Max chuckled, setting his water down on a nearby workbench. “Don’t worry about it. What are you trying to do?”

“I’m supposed to get some footage of the engineers prepping your car, but I can’t get the angle right, and—” She broke off, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “It’s my first week. I’m still getting the hang of everything.”

“You’re doing fine,” Max said, his tone reassuring as he stepped closer. “Here, let me see.”

She handed him the phone, watching as he adjusted the tripod with practiced ease. He crouched slightly, angling the camera until it perfectly captured the scene in the garage.

“Like this?” he asked, stepping back to let her check.

She stared at the screen in amazement. “That’s… perfect. How did you do that so quickly?”

“Years of media obligations,” he said with a shrug. “You pick up a thing or two.”

She smiled, feeling some of her nervousness ebb away. “Thanks, Max.”

“No problem,” he replied, picking up his water bottle. “And if you ever need help with anything else—questions, technical stuff, whatever—just ask. It’s better than guessing.”

Max wasn’t kidding. Over the next few weeks, she found herself turning to him more often than she expected, and he answered every question with surprising patience.

“What’s a DRS zone?” she asked one afternoon during a lunch break.

“It’s where we can open the rear wing to go faster,” Max explained, demonstrating with his hands. “But only in certain areas and under certain conditions. You know, to make overtaking easier.”

“And what’s an undercut?” she asked the next day while filming a promo video in the paddock.

Max smirked. “That’s when you pit earlier than the car ahead of you to get fresher tires and gain track position. But timing is everything. If you mess it up, it doesn’t work.”

“Right,” she said, nodding along even though she still felt a bit lost.

Max seemed to notice her confusion because he added, “It’s like beating someone to the front of the line at a concert by taking a shortcut. Make sense?”

“Ahh,” she said, grinning. “That actually helps.”

With Max’s encouragement, her confidence grew. She started experimenting with different content ideas, from quirky Instagram stories to polished YouTube vlogs. Her colleagues noticed the change, offering praise and feedback that bolstered her even further.

But it was Max’s quiet support that made the biggest difference. He never made her feel stupid for asking questions or stumbling over her words, and his humor often turned stressful moments into something lighter.

One evening, as she sat in the media center editing a race weekend highlight reel, Max walked by and paused to watch over her shoulder.

“Not bad,” he said, nodding at the screen.

“‘Not bad’?” she repeated, turning to him with a mock glare.

He grinned. “Okay, fine. It’s great. But you missed the part where I overtook Checo in Turn 3. That was the best move of the race.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “I’ll add it to the blooper reel.”

“Bloopers?” he said, pretending to look offended. “That was pure talent.”

She shook her head, unable to suppress her smile. “You’re impossible, Verstappen.”

“And you’re doing a great job,” he said, his tone softening. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

By the time the season reached its midpoint, she felt like she’d finally found her footing. The fast-paced world of Formula 1 no longer felt overwhelming; instead, it felt exhilarating.

One evening, after a particularly successful social media campaign, she found herself standing on the balcony of the team’s hospitality unit, watching the sun set over the paddock. Max joined her a few minutes later, leaning against the railing with a relaxed smile.

“Long day?” he asked.

“Always,” she replied with a chuckle. “But I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“I’d say you’re more than getting the hang of it,” Max said. “You’ve been killing it lately. Everyone’s noticed.”

She glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, meeting her gaze. “And in case you haven’t noticed, you’ve made this job your own. You’ve brought something new to the team. It’s good.”

Her chest swelled with gratitude, and she looked down, trying to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. “Thanks, Max. For everything. I don’t think I would’ve survived my first month without you.”

He chuckled, reaching out to nudge her shoulder playfully. “Anytime. You’re part of the team now, and we take care of our own. Even if you still ask a million questions.”

She laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Get used to it, Verstappen. I’ve got plenty more where those came from.”

Max smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Bring it on.”

[novvabee]

could you do one where there’s a girl who is really good, like REALLY good at divination and stuff, and meets the mauraders

hi love! this is so cute, it is a tad bit different from your ask but, here it is ❤️ i hope it fits your vision

She's Divine

Summary: poly!marauders x divination loving reader cw: swearing like once, predetermined poly relationship word count: 1.8k

“Y/N!” you heard Sirius sing throughout the common room. You were cozied up in one of the corners with a book you’ve been dying to read on the works and uses of prophecies. You finally had a moment of time, and now it was being interrupted, great.

“Yes Sirius,” you sighed, closing your book and looking up at him from where he stood. He smiled down at you and you knew you were going to be pulled into whatever scheme he was planning.

He batted his eyes down at you, smiling sweetly as he asked “Would you do me a small, well, bigger than small favor?”

“What kind of favor?” you asked, narrowing your eyes in suspicion. 

“Well, remember that assignment that was due last week? The one for divination?” he recalled.

“Yes?” you say, becoming annoyed.

“Well…” He trailed off.

“You didn’t do it?” you guessed, it would be just like Sirius to ask you to do his homework, even a week later.

He cocked his head and smiled. “How did you know? You must be psychic or something.”

You rolled your eyes in answer. Of course you didn’t want to help him with this. It was on a topic you learned last week, palmistry, and you had already moved on to dream interpretations. 

“Oh come on,” he grovelled, “you know I’m shit at divination, and you’re the top of the class. Just think about it as if you’re tutoring me.”

You rolled your eyes yet again, your book will just have to wait until later. “Fine,” you said, “sit.”

He sat in the armchair next to yours, throwing off his bag full of textbooks. He looked at you intently, on his best behavior as not to piss you off and tell him to do the assignment himself.

“Ok,” you started, “give me your hand.”

He obeyed your command and gave you his right hand. You took it in both of yours, pulling him closer to get a better view. You twisted it around to get the perfect lighting and make sure you didn’t miss any marks.

“Ok well, these little marks are ‘witch marks’ indicating that magic runs through your bloodlines but… that’s obvious, almost everyone in this school has them. However, you have quite a lot of them, meaning you come from a long line of magic.”

He nodded along seeming interested in what you had to say.

“Then this one here,” you said pointing to a deep line slashing through the bottom of his hand, “this one is the lifeline, it is pretty average, meaning you will live to a normal age but, it’s split. This probably means that your life will change in a drastic way.” you explained.

Sirius was listening, but he wasn’t listening. He was just staring at you, smiling. His hands were warm, soft. You were beginning to feel his stare.

“Do you want me to keep going?” you asked, not knowing if he was really listening to what you were saying, not taking any of it in. He was definitely not going to do well on this project.

“Yes please!” He said, dreamily. “I could listen to you talk all day.”

You giggled, squeezing his hand in between yours. “Is this just another way of flirting or do you really need help with this assignment?” you asked with a grin.

“Why can’t it be both?” he replied.

You shook your head but continued on reading his palm. “This one is the heart line. It stops right before your middle finger, which means you have difficulty expressing your emotions to those you love. It feathers out quite a bit, I think this may mean you’ll have many lovers in your life.” you said jokingly. This was obvious to you of course, Sirius shared his love three ways already between you, James and Remus.

“Lucky me,” he muttered, smirking over at you and winking.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Hello sunshine.” you heard from beside you. Your attention snapped up to James making his way up to where you were sat under a shady oak tree in the gardens of the castle. It was a lovely day and you decided to take full advantage of the rare sunny weather. You were still on the book about the works and uses of prophecies, not finding the time to finish it.

“Hello James,” you said, smiling up at the tall, bespeckled figure. “What can I help you with?”

“Nothing at all!,” he answered. “Actually, I saw something in Hogsmeade and thought you would like it.”

“A present?” you asked, pretending to be shocked. In reality, it was very much like James to grab something for you while out in the town. He did it fairly often, always bringing you back candies or trinkets.

He chuckled and said “Close your eyes.”

You listened to him, shutting your eyes and holding out your hands for him to set the present in. You felt something hard and cold placed in your cupped hands. You didn’t peek until you heard him say you could look.

You opened your eyes to see a small amethyst tower laying on its side. You gasped and looked up at James. “Thank you!” you exclaimed. “I need to put one under my pillow! I’ve been sleeping awful lately.” you explained.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, sitting down next to you under the tree, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He traced his fingers along your upper arm in a sweet and comforting way. “Bad dreams?”

“Sorta.” you answered, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Well, what are they about? Sometimes it’s good to talk about them and analyze them.” he explained.

You looked at him sideways “Yes James, I too take divination.” you answered him sarcastically.

“Exactly! You should know that better than anyone else!” he chuckled.

“Fine, fine,” you laughed. “They're mostly about interplanetary rivalries, you know, Venus and Jupiter. And all the placements growing closer to conjunction, causing all sorts of chaos and interesting events here on Earth. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

He blinked at you. “No idea. I know about half of the words you just said.”

You laughed and shoved him gently. “Well that was no help, Potter.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were finally settling down, opening your book to the chapter you had left off on. You didn’t make it two seconds before you felt a presence beside you. You thought you would be safe in the library, you thought wrong.

You turned to see Remus setting up some parchment and his quill. He smiled at you and continued. You thought that maybe he would be engrossed in his work and maybe leave you to your reading. You were wrong.

“Hey Y/N, you have a moment?” he leaned over and whispered.

You shut your book yet again, looking over to him to continue.

“You read runes right?” he asked, still quiet as not to disturb the studying students around you both.

You nodded. “Yeah, I got an Outstanding in my OWLS.”

His face lit up as he said, “Great, well, I was wondering if you would be willing to tudor some students in my study group. There’s a few kids taking rune reading for the first time and they said they needed some help, so I wanted to ask the expert.” You suspected he was laying on the compliments to make you say yes to tutoring some younger years.

You laughed off his flattery, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, I am no expert, not yet at least,” you said, “But I can help any way I can.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank you so much, Y/N. I really will owe you.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When you agreed to help tutor for Remus, you didn’t expect two of the pupils to be both James and Sirius. They sat there, textbooks open and puzzled looks smeared across their faces. You didn’t mind terribly, they were your boyfriends after all, perhaps they would thank you with more presents and sweets. 

You figured Remus roped you into tutoring them because he did not have the patience for teaching both boys with the shortest attention span in probably the while school..

You helped them with a few assignments that they couldn’t quite grasp. Both boys struggled with rune reading, tarot card reading, and naval chart reading. You did your best to help walk them through it, but after about an hour, you could tell they were becoming frustrated with it all.

“But I’m a Scorpio,” Sirius said, “I was born in November.”

“I know that Sirius, but that is your sun sign.” you tried to explain. “There are many more signs. For example, your moon sign which is in Taurus.” 

“Ugh, this is stupid!” Sirius said, frustrated and tired.

“Honestly, divination is pretty much useless nowadays, it’s not even reliable, there is no proof it’s real.” James chimed in.

You were taken back by their comments. “Just because you two don’t automatically excel in it, doesn’t mean that it is stupid or useless.” you said, hurt that they felt that way about something you were very passionate about, something you loved and were good at, something you wanted to make into a career. You knew that a lot of people didn’t take divination seriously, that it was considered somewhat of an old wives tale. But you didn’t think that the boys, the people you thought cared about you the most, would think your passions were so miniscule and not as important as their own. 

“W-we didn’t mean it like that,” James said, starting to back peddle. “We just mean, we’re not good at it so…”

“So you think it’s stupid?” you ask.

“No!” James says, becoming pink in the face, not enjoying the outcome of this conversation at all.

“Don't listen to them,” you heard Remus say, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his side, seeing that you were hurt and wanting to comfort you a little. “They’re just upset that they have to finally work hard at a form of magic.”

It’s true, James and Sirius both were incredible wizards, it came easy to them. You often thought that they were just made of magic, that they didn’t ever have to try in any of their classes. 

“I might not be able to transfigure a barrel into a slipper on my first try, but you definitely couldn’t explain the difference between quartz and tigers eye and their respective uses.” you say to them.

“That’s why we want your help, Y/N. You know this doesn’t come easy to us. And to you, you're just so in tune with it, it’s like you have this rare, secret talent for it.” Sirius says. You’re still offended, but the compliments were helping.

“We don’t know how you do it, honestly.” Added James.

“Fine… I’ll still help you,” you said, they smiled apologetically at you. “But you have to do all my history of magic papers for the rest of the month.”

Sirius groaned but agreed, saying that it wouldn’t be too hard, just take a lot of time.

“Ok fine, but you have to teach us ovomancy and capnomancy too.” James bargained.

“Deal,” you said happily, excited to share your knowledge with the boys.

[remiratboi]

The Truth Of The Matter - Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 | Previous

Minotaur M Best Friend X Human GN Fat Reader

CW: monsterfucking, clubbing, drinking, slight body insecurity

A few weeks went by, and the dress haunted you from your closet. You had put it on a couple of times, but chickened out each time.

Tonight was the night, though. You were going to do it. You were feeling hot today, and you figured if there was ever a time, now was it. You and Rin were both getting ready for the usual club, respectively.

You spent more time than you normally did on your face and hair. You went ultra femme, the tight red dress and sheer black tights. You put on your favourite strapy black heels and curled your hair. After a final look in the mirror, and a calming breath, you made your way to the living room where Rin was waiting for you.

You felt nervous for some reason. And embarrassed. You tried shaking it.

Rin caught you from the corner of his eye, and did a legitimate double take. His jaw dropped, for the second time.

“You’re wearing that tonight?” His voice cracked.

“Yeah, I mean, if I look as hot as you say I do, maybe I’ll catch someone extra pretty tonight.” You joked. His face went blank. Your normally open friend became unreadable.

“You know, I’m actually not up to it tonight.” He spoke flatly, but his words felt like knives. Did he not like the dress on you anymore? “I… I’m not feeling good. I just can’t take it.” He finished lamely.

Your shoulders sank. “But I was so excited.” You pouted and looked at your dolled up face in the decorative mirror that hung nearby.

“You should still go. Have fun. I’m probably just gonna go to bed early.” His tone was still bizarre. You didn’t understand.

“No, it’s ok, I’ll make some soup, and we can watch a-” you turned back to your room as you spoke, but were interrupted by his suddenly harsh tone.

“No, just go. I’m fine. Go have fun.” He stood and walked past you. The door to his room clicked when it latched. You stood in your living room, bewildered and a little bit hurt.

Fuck it. You thought. You looked hot, felt good, and clearly Rin needed some space. You’d give him as much as he wanted. You grabbed your handbag and headed out.

The club was dead when you arrived. You hadn’t meant to leave quite that early, but after the strange experience with Rin, you’d practically ran there. About 15 people milled around.

Brutus welcomed you with a low whistle when you walked by him. You blushed and twirled, giggling.

“Damn, you poured into that?” He teased and followed it with a chef's kiss.

You received a similar response from Viola. “Baby if I hadn’t paid a fuck ton of money to turn my cock into a pussy, I’d have a raging boner right about now.”

“Ew, Vi?” You replied, screwing up your face. She cackled at your response.

“Seriously though, you look amazing. New dress?” She spoke as she prepped the bar for the night. You reached over and plucked a cherry from a dish, popping it into your mouth.

“Yeah, Rin bought it for me.” Your smile fell as you were reminded of the strange interaction earlier.

“Speaking of the big lug, where is he?” You didn’t reply for a moment, lost in thought. It was long enough she paused, and looked up at you. “Woah, what’s with the face? You guys okay?” She asked. You knew it wasn’t like you two to have conflict? And while you had wanted to move past it, it seemed harder than you’d expected.

“Huh?” You shook your head slightly and looked back at her. “Oh, yeah. Uh, he said something about how he ‘just can’t take it’.” You were about to explain that he wasn’t feeling well when Viola laughed.

“Yeah well, you can’t blame him.” She went back to her prep work. “Honestly, about time he said something.”

Maybe if she had been paying better attention, she’d have seen how confused you were. That she had misunderstood. But she hadn’t been. And she didn’t realize.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Well I mean the guys been in love with you his entire life, and he has to watch you go home with person after person each night. I wouldn’t be able to take it either.” She finally looked back at your face. It was her turn to be confused at your expression of utter shock.

“What are you talking about?” You spoke quietly. The music almost drowning you out.

Viola froze. “… What are you talking about?”

“Rin isn’t feeling well. He said he couldn’t take coming out tonight.” You clarified. It felt like the whole world fell away. The only thing you could see was Viola. “What did you think I was saying?”

Viola laughed awkwardly. “Yeah that’s what I meant too!” She spoke with too much enthusiasm. As if she could trick you into forgetting what she had just said.

“Vi, I swear to god.” You pushed every bit of threat you could muster into your tone. Her shoulders sagged. She sighed.

“I’m not supposed to tell you. It was an accident.” Viola chewed on her bottom lip.

You glared at her.

“Fine. But don’t you dare tell him I told you. I’ll make Brutus ban you.” She pointed to the door you knew he stood outside.

You crossed your arms. “Honestly, I’d like to see you try. He likes me more.” You smirked. “But I’m not going to say anything anyway. Can you please just explain yourself?” You refocused.

“Each night, you go home with someone. And each night, he sits here and drowns his sorrows, complaining about how much he loves you. I think he’s just a coward, but he says you don’t feel the same, and he doesn’t want to risk the friendship.” She looked at you anxiously. “I don’t know, that’s just what he’s said.”

She didn’t even finish the sentence before you were turning around. And then you were running.

[ssentimentals]

hii!! been loving your posts!! can i pls request suggestive prompts 2 and 30 for mingyu!! you are holding this entire app on your back rn! 🙌🙌🙌

hiiii! ahhh this is too kind, i'm gonna cry :(( thank you for requesting! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

suggestive prompt: 'can i sit in your lap?' - 'hold still.'

you grimace at the sheer amount of people around - going out on a friday night is never a good idea for someone who is not a fan of crowds, but birthday parties cannot be missed and soon you find yourself squeezed between all your friends and bunch of strangers, sweaty bodies pressed one to another.

'shit, sorry i am late, guys!' mingyu bursts into the circle, quickly going to give a hug to the birthday boy. he then instantly finds you, enveloping you in a big hug: 'hi, baby. sorry i couldn't pick you up. work is crazy.'

'it's okay,' you assure him, breathing normally for the first time during the night once he wraps his arms around you. 'glad you made it.'

'of course,' mingyu leans back and places gentle kiss on your cheek. 'i promised you i would.' he looks in your eyes, frowning. 'you okay so far?'

it's sweet and you want to reassure that you're fine but honestly, you're not. in hopes to avoid brushing strangers constantly and being more in his space, you whisper into his ear: 'can i sit in your lap?'

mingyu looks surprised but eagerly complies, pulling your back to his chest as soon as you're done. 'that's your place, baby,' he brushes his lips over your neck. 'you can always sit here, no permission needed.'

you ignore his words, blushing. thank god it's dark inside and no one notices; everyone is too busy with taking shots and celebrating birthday boy anyways. you slowly relax, feeling safe in mingyu's arms; soon you're enjoying the music and forget about uneasiness you felt before. you don't even notice that you're moving, managing to somehow move to the rhythm whilst sitting on mingyu's lap until he doesn't grip your hips with a low: 'hold still, pretty. you're making it a bit hard for me.'

understanding downs on you as he shifts and you feel the reason for his request, semi-hard. you bite your lap, unsure. part of you wants to continue teasing him but another part is eager for you two to leave. in the end it's not you who suggests that; mingyu lets you lean fully on him and whispers into ear, tracing swirly patterns on your thighs: 'i think if you and i leave right now no one will notice. everyone is drunk.' you shift to get more comfortable and he lowly groans: 'fucking- is that your way of agreeing?'

you blush, giggling quietly. 'sorry, it wasn't intentional, i swear.'

'i don't believe you.' mingyu places small kiss on your temple. 'let's go baby, please. hm?'

you glance at your surroundings and yeah, mingyu's right, no one would bat an eye if you two just left now; his idea seems to be appealing enough. you turn to him, catching his eyes - he's watching you with silent desperation, eyes hungry for more. 'yeah,' you breath out, noticing hitch in his breath. 'let's go home.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[ckret2]

I'm staring at the newest chapter in horror but also, there are SO many witnesses and there will probably be a ton of documentation about the second dimensional incident, which makes it that much more baffling Bill got an insanity plea. I know it's for Story Reasons and I probably shouldn't think about it too hard but goddamn.

They legitimately looked at all of this and said "yeah no he's found not guilty by reason of insanity, Theraprism NOW." (I thought at first it was "guilty but insane," however we get no indication that he's going to be sent to a normal multiversal prison after he completes his karmic rehabilitation. They all but say that reincarnation is the goal after this is over, which seems to be equivalent to release and reintegration into society.)

That being said it could simply be that interdimensional court has different requirements to be declared insane enough not to get permadeath. Or I'm misremembering how the Theraprism works...It's a forensic hospital, right? Not prison. He's being treated not punished.(Kinda debatable. That place sucks.)

The Axolotl gotta be the single best lawyer of the entire multiverse how the hell did they pull this off. I would love to just be in the court when this went down actually I can already feel how absolutely insane it was. No way either side didn't fight tooth and nail.

the fact that Bill is willing to look every single person he meets dead in the eye and say "no my dimension wasn't destroyed, it's fine, all my people are alive and they love me" is ngl gonna be a big part of the ax's defense strategy.

They have a lot of documentation of what Bill's like after the massacre—but there's absolutely no record, anywhere, of what happened during the massacre. You know what they do have documentation of though? Bill insisting that he dumped Euclydia into Dimension Zero so that he could do renovations and that he's built a paradise universe in its place when all he's built is a void with a few strobe lights. Bill claiming that all these people he kidnapped himself are actually from his dimension. Bill pulling off "rescues" with seemingly no self-awareness that he slaughtered more than he saved. Bill being told MULTIPLE TIMES "if you keep trying to fix Dimension Zero then the multiverse will collapse" and Bill going "okay. i hear you. So how about i fix Dimension Zero, and then, everything is fine."

What do you do if you get Bill into a courtroom and ask him "do you plea guilty to the massacre of Euclydia?" and he goes "I don't know what you're talking about. There was no massacre. I liberated everyone, they're fine. They're literally still alive today. Nobody died." Like. You're trying to decide his culpability in a crime he doesn't acknowledge happened.

You've gotta ask 2 questions: does Bill literally not know what happened to his dimension—even if the knowledge comes and goes, is it still sometimes genuinely missing—or is this just an act to try to wiggle out of trouble? And, if he does literally not know what happened to it, is that a trauma reaction to the massacre, or did he commit the crime not comprehending what the result would be?

Bill's a known liar, this could all be an act. But, like, god, wow, it's a really, really good act.

The Ax can argue that Bill literally doesn't grasp the difference between right and wrong. He can tell them that Bill is completely unable to differentiate fact and fiction. He can tell them that Bill has delusions that he didn't destroy Euclydia, that the neighboring dimensions are Euclydia, that all his people are alive and healthy, and argue that he probably had delusions that whatever he did to his dimension wouldn't destroy it in the first place. He can argue a whole lot of things about Bill.

Are any of these things true about Bill? Debatable. Probably not. Somewhere between 30%-60% true. Could the Ax convince a court that they're true? Probably. Everyone already agrees Bill's insane. The only question is if he was the right kind of insane at the right time.

[catghoul31]

Best Present Ever

It's Wade's birthday, but he finds the one-year anniversary of meeting Logan far more important. Wolvie, however, isn't sure he needs to make a wish this time around...

(For @poolverine-week day 7: birthday!)

Content Warnings: exploration of worst!logan's past and the death and suffering that comes with it

Read it under the cut or on ao3!

Logan shot awake that morning, the blood of so, so many people still feeling fresh on his claws. It had been washed away years ago, but the memories still seemed to haunt him, no matter how many steps he took in this new world. Living still felt like a chore, and he still felt like a failure of a person no matter how many times Wade tried to convince him otherwise-

Wade. Wasn’t he in bed with me last night?

On mornings like this, his claws would normally wind up embedded inside of Wade. Logan was utterly distraught the first time it happened, but after months and months of sleeping together, he eventually grew numb to it with the knowledge that Wade had never gotten mad at him about it before, and for some reason, he never would. But there was none of his blood on his claws today, only shredded sheets and another pillow that needed to be replaced.

Where did he go?

—

In the back of his mind, Logan thought he knew a man named Wade once. Back before Weapon X, he probably would’ve fought alongside him in the secret forces, using his brutal nature for good just as Logan had been forced to do. There was a sort of peace in knowing someone as born for destruction as you were, so fucked over by fate that there was no way around your nature except through it.

At least he could control it. Fate seemed to have other plans for Wade, though- the head of Weapon X had somehow managed to find a way to rip that control away from him through forced mutation. When they saw each other once again, he couldn’t even speak, let alone think for himself. Logan’s claws had been the ones to end his misery after a long, horrible fight- at least, he hoped they had.

Those memories hadn’t been wiped- at least, not by Stryker. The only reason he remembered, in the wake of everything else, was that it marked the first time he’d heavily abused alcohol to drown out the memories of his muffled screams at his hands.

The first of many, many times to come.

—

“Wolvie!! Oh- good, you’re awake. You always sleep like a rock whenever I wake up before you- do you know how hard it is to get you off of me??”

Ah, there he was. Of course he hadn’t gone far, and neither had that mouth of his. Always having to talk about something… He’d take his droning on over his inner monologue any day, though. Ever since they’d finally stopped being emotionally constipated assholes and decided to get together, Logan kind of missed it when Wade wasn’t around. This world was too quiet and dull without him…

“Morning, Wade,” he responded, retracting his claws from the bed. Logan knew exactly what Wade was gonna ask based on that look in his eyes, so to prevent ruining his morning, he held a hand up and said, “I’m fine. Just… don’t worry about it.”

Unfortunately for Logan, this was Wade he was dealing with. “Too late for that. I will never not worry about you, babygirl- did you have another nightmare?? While I wasn’t around to hold you tenderly and tell you everything was okay… I have failed you, my dearest and one true love, and I am deeply sorry. How ever can I make this right by you?” he lamented as over-dramatically as possible, getting on his knees and everything.

Logan’s face scrunched up at Wade’s antics as he pretended to be annoyed- but fuck it all, he really couldn’t be. Those puppy eyes worked too well, and he hated it. Sure, he got nervous when Wade was gone for too long, but it wasn’t like he was some lost puppy when Wade was even just in a different room than he was for five minutes. He could handle himself.

“But you always miss me so much, don’t you~?”

“Stop reading my thoughts, Wade. Please.”

—

Logan was found by the professor not long after that. There, he’d discovered others just like him, with all sorts of different mutations- the X-Men. The family he’d found after he lost everything else. The defenders of mutantkind, the friends he could always rely on… that’s what he’d tried to believe, at least. Try as he might, Logan could never bring himself to feel comfortable around them… around anyone, really. 

Something deep within him had the sense that the greatest danger never came from those he expected, but from the people he thought he could trust- wanted, so badly, to trust. To love, and be loved in return, regardless of that love’s nature. Logan, though, never felt quite right around any of them. He never felt like he belonged- not even around… Scott. Jean. Kurt. 

(He hated those names now. Couldn’t fucking stand hearing them, in any context.)

Logan wasn’t a hero. At best, he was good muscle and an intimidating face to scare the bad guys with. Nobody had ever made him feel like he was anything more than that, try as they might. He’d had enough one night, when the cheap pot shots at his animalistic qualities were too much, scraping at his head when it was already sore from self-loathing and the few memories he’d retained of his past life…

They went on a mission that night. Logan went bar hopping instead.

He would never see them alive again.

–

“...Anyways!! Maybe these’ll help the horrors leave your head, peanut,” Wade chirped, holding a plate of… pancakes. Logan would know that smell anywhere- the agent of chaos he lived with always insisted on making them every other morning. 

Logam would be tired of them by now, if not for the infectious joy they always brought to their mornings. It was less about the food, and more about how much fun Wade always had making them… Fuck, it would’ve been nice if he woken up earlier. He could’ve helped out! Or maybe he’d just sit at the table, watching Wade hum a song he didn’t recognize, dance in place to the beat before he put some batter on the griddle. He’d ask for blueberries if prompted, mostly to hear another ramble about how chocolate chips were the only correct add-in-

“Hey! Earth to Wolvie?? These are only the special-est pancakes ever… c’mon, humor me here, will ya?” A light poke at his nose made Logan huff, snapping him out of his trance.

“Y-Yeah, sorry. I’m fine, just…” It always felt odd saying that when it… wasn’t entirely a lie anymore. “...Tired. I’ll get up soon, just… gimme a bit-”

“Ah-ah! Absolutely not, Logi-Bear!!” Wade set a hand on Logan’s shoulder, forcing him to sit still- he hadn’t even moved yet. “Today calls for only the most romantic things I could possibly treat my emotional support 2000s-era heartthrob to… and that means we’re having breakfast in bed. I don’t make the rules, babe!”

Immediately, the pancakes were set in Logan’s lap, complete with a fork and knife, and he had to move quickly to stop the plate from sliding around. “...Do you also think sticky sheets are romantic, bub?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them- mostly because of the way Wade’s face glowed with mirth upon hearing them.

“Of course I do! This bed’s gonna see a lot more sticky stuff tonight, though, and you know it…”

Logan hid his flushed face in his hands, cussing under his breath as Wade giggled uncontrollably. How immature was he…? The worst part was how right he was, of course. Taking a look at his pancakes… they seemed misshapen. No, not misshapen- it seemed like they were supposed to be shaped like his mask, with a few ‘snikt’ marks drawn into them with batter. They were even complete with blueberries, syrup, whipped cream, powdered sugar, and… a candle? Thank fuck it wasn’t lit yet!

“Well… we’re pulling all the stops today, aren’t we? I mean, thanks for the food, but- what’s all this about, babe?” As confused as he was, Logan couldn’t help but smile. Wade was always one for fun gifts and gestures, but this seemed like a lot, even for him.

When Wade pulled out a fucking lighter, Logan immediately flung the candle off of the pancakes. The sad look Wade gave him stung- but fuck if he was letting the house burn down over this!!

“…Happy anniversary? Damn, guess you didn’t want a wish after all…”

—

The mansion was burning down.

Logan was barely lucid as he staggered back to what was supposed to be his home. All at once, though, awareness flooded his mind again the moment he comprehended what he was looking at. His home was being destroyed right in front of him, and he instantly rushed over to try and help his comrades salvage what would be left.

As Logan got closer to the bonfire that was once his home, he heard shouting, chanting… cheering?? People were celebrating this vile display of hatred. Nothing he wasn’t used to. He’d just lop their heads off, and his family would-

…

They wouldn’t do anything.

Not with their bodies impaled in the middle of the crowd, paraded by masked individuals who were protected by a sea of people chanting, jeering, or screaming in outrage at the scene before them.

Many of those disgusted individuals… they’d left the mansion before this happened. 

But Logan didn’t care. Any shred of morality left his body in that moment, and his claws unsheathed so fast he thought he’d never be able to pull them back in again. 

It was a total bloodbath. Hundreds more people died that night- all of the perpetrators, sure, but not even those who were trying to fight against the X-Men’s killers were safe. Not even some of the very students he’d sworn to protect. In that moment, which went by in what felt like seconds to him, Logan had caused the greatest atrocity ever committed by mutantkind. No other mutant would ever be as notable as he was. 

How could they, if Logan was the only mutant the humans couldn’t kill?

—

“Oh, there’s lots of things I’ve got to wish for, bub. Burning this shitty apartment down ain’t one of them, though.”

Wade snorted at that comment, putting the lighter away safely and stepping closer to Logan. “Aw, c’mon, what’s a little arson between friends?” he asked, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder and shooting those puppy dog eyes at him, like a dog begging for a taste of water boiling on the stove. 

Logan laughed dryly at the thought. Wade was so ridiculous sometimes… did he still love his stupid ass? Of course he did. And he didn’t even feel stupid for it anymore, because honestly? He was being sweet this morning. Why kick the gift horse in the mouth? Or however Wade put it that one time… 

“I don’t want to celebrate our… anniversary? By becoming homeless, and I don’t think you want to, either.” Logan took a moment to think about what Wade meant by that. What was today an ‘anniversary’ of?? He had to glance back down at his pancakes to get the slightest idea of what that meant… and holy shit. “Has it really been that long since we’ve met each other?”

Wade, perking up instantly, nodded enthusiastically against him. “Of course I’d remember!! My phone started making those “1 year ago today” albums at 5 AM, and I- Logan, I almost cried. There’s so many cute pictures of us from back when you hated my guts…” 

Logan never hated him. He’d hated a lot of people in his time, but honestly, when his world came crumbling down, Logan lost the will to hate people, just as he’d lost the will to love, so he was just… mad at everyone, all the time. That was even true in that fucking car- he’d only called him all those nasty things because he was pissed. Mostly at himself, and- he still hadn’t fully forgiven himself for what he said. Or anything else, really. Forgiving Wade- hell, even choosing to love him- was way easier than that would ever be!

“…and OH MY GOD, the first picture I got of Dogpool!! Oh, Logan, you have to… are you even paying attention to me? Hey, don’t get all broody on me here, babycakes! This fic’s supposed to be fluffy, right? C’mon… hey-“ Wade guided Logan’s face to look at him, into that diseased-yet-kind soul of his.

“Eyes on me, now…” Logan’s nose scrunched up at the patronizing tone Wade took with him, but he obliged anyways. “Now. Look at this one,” The next picture on the album was Wade, after that “fight” of theirs, wrapped in seatbelts, covered in blood and making what looked like a kissy face at a passed-out Logan behind him, with the caption “noo don’t stab me you’re so sexy haha 😘.” “Doesn’t that make you feel better?”

Not really. But also… kinda. Yeah. “Maybe,” Logan shrugged, a slight smirk on his face. Even after a year, that was still the weirdest thing they’d done that Logan could accurately describe as “hot.” And they couldn’t ever recreate it!! No way for two people to have hot hate sex if they couldn’t even pretend to hate each other anymore…

Out of pure impulse, Logan moved his pancakes onto the nightstand, wrapped his arms around Wade, and rolled him over onto the bed with him. That squeak he always let out whenever Logan did this always made him laugh. Flustering Wade back was one of his favorite things in the world…

“If I’d known you were taking pictures, I would’ve grabbed that damn phone and taken some of my own that night,” Logan growled into his ear, grinning at how Wade shuddered in response.

“Mm… I don’t think you would’ve!” Wade whispered. “I think you would’ve been too busy f-wording me to focus on anything else, right?” he said, winking in… someone’s general direction- why’d he always do that? Some things about Wade were still completely lost on Logan…

“Well, you had time while you were trying to save the world, didn’t you?” he said, catching his album flipping to a selfie Wade took with Cassandra putting his fingers inside Logan’s face in the background- wait, what the fuck?

“Saving the world and saving you, peanut,” Wade corrected, a softer smile on his face now. “But… honestly, I think you might’ve saved me a bit more. I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn’t you I’d found…”

—

Logan deserved nothing. Not after what he did.

His fit of murderous rage had given the anti-mutes the ammo they needed to complete their genocide of every single mutant on the planet. They’d spent a while trying to kill him, but once Logan was the only mutant left alive, they figured it was punishment enough to let him live out the rest of his days in a world that hated him. 

And they were right. Logan was homeless and completely alone, obviously hated by the mutant killers, but especially loathed by everyone who’d fought against them, everyone who had lost a mutant loved one- especially at the Wolverine’s claws that night. Every single day, every moment he lived was a reminder of what he’d done, how he’d doomed his world.

He couldn’t bear to spend a second of his life sober. His alcoholism accelerated to a point where lethal levels of drinking barely affected him anymore, but it didn’t matter. It was better to relive his greatest crimes with a slightly foggy mind than to let the thoughts scream ceaselessly at him.

The obvious solution would be to let himself die, right? Just lie down in whatever shelter he could until his body finally starved to death… but Logan knew that would bring him peace. 

Something he would never have. Something he would never deserve.

Living was the only punishment fit for him.

—

Logan snorted, very much begging to differ. “At least you admit you saved me. I had nothing, Wade… Not until I met you.” Even after a year, Logan still meant those words. He no longer mourned the idea that there was nothing left for him in his old universe- at this point, it felt like a simple statement of fact. The memories of the events that ruined it still hurt, and he was far from healed… but Logan had no idea what he was thinking, wanting to go back after they’d defeated Cassandra. There wasn’t a life he could imagine living without Wade anymore…

As if he’d read his mind, Wade’s lips pressed against Logan’s in enthusiastic agreement. He returned the kiss softly, sighing in contentment. Much like the rest of him, Wade’s lips were scarred, textured with the physical manifestation of how much pain he’d suffered to get here. Every kiss he gave him reminded Logan how much pain Wade had experienced, and before, it’d felt like the tie that bound them. Now, though? After months of loving and being loved by Wade, thinking of their bond in terms of pain alone felt reductive. Maybe his existence in his old world was defined by how much he hurt… but not here. Not anymore.

When they parted, Wade leaned his forehead against him, staring at him with the softest eyes imaginable, a wordless declaration of love. Logan could only hope that the smile on his face conveyed the same sentiment.

Of course, the moment couldn’t last forever, and in true Wade fashion, he was the one to break it. “I think your pancakes are getting cold, sweetums… We can’t celebrate until you’ve had your breakfast!!” he insisted, dragging Logan up to sit again- as much as he stubbornly protested. He was very comfortable right there, why’d he have to ruin it? Over food?? He could always eat later.

But… sure. They could have pancakes. Logan had realized something very interesting about today, so… “You first,” Logan insisted, passing the fork to Wade, who seemed incredibly confused. 

“Nuh uh, Wolvie- it’s my turn to celebrate you right now!! Those were made specifically with you in mind-“

“Weren’t you having a party when you brought me home?”

It only took a few seconds for it to sink in. Logan watched with glee as Wade’s eyes widened, almost seeming devastated at the realization. He had to bite his tongue to keep from cackling when Wade yelled-

“I forgot my birthday again???”

[vanillarosekiss]

To the beautiful person who left me this anon ask:

hi ria! I know you normally write femreader as girly or with a more feminine energy. But wdyt of John Price whose s/o is self conscious because she’s not as girly as the ladies who undoubtedly always surround him and maybe have made her he can do better than her ((totally not projecting lolz))

i’m so sorry i accidentally deleted your ask, but luckily I managed to copy it before! I really hope this finds you angel..♡

warnings: self depreciation, afab!reader x John Price, this one’s actually kinda sad guys sorry (happy ending though, i promise!!).

John Price had always been the kind of man who carried himself with a quiet confidence, commanding respect in every room he walked into. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried the weight of his responsibilities with ease — it was his unwavering calm, the type of presence that made you feel like the world could crumble, but he’d hold it together for you. He’d do anything for you.

You didn’t feel like you belonged in his orbit. You didn’t even feel like you belonged in the same room.

Not when he could have his pick of anyone. And not when the effortlessly gorgeous women you saw at his work functions or in photographs seemed to orbit him naturally.

They didn’t mean to make you feel small of course, but sometimes, they didn’t need to. Backhanded comments like, “Oh, she’s not quite what I expected for John,” or those lingering glances they shared when they thought you weren’t looking, planted seeds of doubt that grew roots in your chest. It hurt you more than you liked to admit.

You weren’t as polished, as composed, as these women. It wasn’t that you didn’t try… no, you just didn’t feel like you when you did. Dresses made you feel exposed. Heels left your feet aching. Even makeup was a practice you rarely indulged in because it didn’t feel worth the time or effort considering the little time you actually spent out.

And yet, John had still chosen you.

You were sitting on the couch with your knees pulled up, thumbing through your phone absentmindedly when John walked in. His heavy boots on the hardwood floor were a sound you’d grown to love, a comfort of such.

“Alright, love?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded quickly, plastering on a smile. “Yeah, fine.”

But John was too observant for his own good. He was extremely perceptive, his time in the force had made him a great reader of expressions. He tilted his head, scanning your face as he set his keys on the counter.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his tone laced with doubt.

You looked away, shrugging. “Just tired, s’all.”

“Not buying it.” He waited intently on your reply.

You hesitated. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Darlin’.” That single word was a command. You knew he was being serious.

You sighed, your voice wavering, threatening to crack despite your attempt to sound indifferent. “Do you ever… I dunno. Do you ever wish I were more like the women you’re surrounded by?”

His brow furrowed. “What women?”

“The ones at those events,” you muttered, gesturing vaguely. “They’re all so put together, and I’m-” You laughed bitterly. “Not.”

John leaned back slightly, his hand finding your thigh and gently resting there. He regarded you for a long moment, his eyes steady. “Who’s been telling you all this?”

“No one,” you said quickly. “I just… I feel like they’re right sometimes. You could do better than me.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. John’s grip on your thigh tightened slightly before he pulled you into his side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Do you know why I chose you?” he asked quietly.

Your throat tightened painfully. “Because I was there?”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Because you’re real. Because you’re you. Because I don’t need anything like those women you were talking about, don’t want them, either.”

“But- ”

“No ‘buts’.” His tone was firm now, the kind that silenced any argument before it began. “I don’t care about anyone else. Those women you’re talkin’ about? All worthless, the lot of ‘em.”

You felt the unavoidable prick of tears in your eyes. “You really mean that?”

John turned slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You think I’d lie to you about something like that?” He kissed your lips gently, lingering there for a while.

“You’re enough for me, angel. More than enough.”

For the first time in what felt like months, you finally believed him.

I really hope this finds the right person. What a gorgeous request! Give me sweet John Price immediately. ˖⋆࿐໋

[aplaceinme]

For @tommygiving

Tommy parks his truck and turns the engine off. He has been smiling since he woke up this morning, knowing that he is going to spend the entire day with Evan. 

Before getting out of the car, he looks in the rearview mirror and fixes his hair. Evan likes to pull on his curls so Tommy has gotten to wear it a bit longer than he normally would. Once he is satisfied with the way he looks, he turns and just as he is about to open the door, he sees Evan exiting his building and bouncing towards him.

As always, Evan looks amazing, he is wearing a blue sweater that makes his eyes pop, and some black jeans that accentuate his big and strong thighs perfectly. He also seems to be in a hurry, since in no time at all he is opening the passenger side door. 

“Good morning, gorgeous!” Evan greets him, leaning over and giving him a way too short for Tommy’s liking kiss.  

“Good morning, love!” Tommy replies. “I was about to go up… I always go up. Are you that excited to go to the supermarket?” 

“Yeah, I’m really excited! I even have my clipboard, see?” Evan says, waving the clipboard for emphasis. 

Tommy chuckles. “I can see that. Ok then, let’s go!” 

—

“Are you sure you are ok?” Tommy asks for the second time. 

“What? Yes, I’m ok… why? Don’t I look alright?” Evan asks in a slightly hysterical way. “I’m alright!”

Tommy raises one eyebrow in disbelief. “Evan, you have been all fidgety and acting all nervous since… since you got in the truck, actually. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Evan says, not so convincingly. 

“Evan,” Tommy sighs. “Look, you do know that I don’t care about the food or the decorations or anything like that, right? You don’t need to put too much pressure on yourself to try to host the perfect Thanksgiving… it will be perfect no matter what because we are going to be spending it together. And that’s all I want.” 

Evan’s posture relaxes minimally, his eyes go as soft as the smile tugging at his lips. “You’re right, it will be perfect because we will be together.” 

They share a sweet but short kiss, both aware that they are in the middle of a supermarket with lots of people desperately buying all kinds of stuff for Thanksgiving. 

“Should we see if we are lucky enough to find a turkey?” Tommy asks as he intertwines their fingers and starts to move across the aisle. 

“Turkey?” Evan yelps. 

Tommy stops walking and turns to look at him in surprise and confusion. “Yes? I mean… Aren’t we having turkey?” 

Evan ducks his head, rubs at the back of his neck, and starts to drag the tip of his shoes along the ground. 

“Evan?” 

“Well… I was thinking that maybe… just maybe! We could go vegan this time?” Evan asks sheepishly.

“Oh! Uhhh, yeah, sure, ok. We can do that if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah? Awesome! Thank you,” Evan says, beaming. 

If Tommy hadn’t been blinded by Evan’s beautiful smile, and by the way it made his eyes sparkle, he would have noticed that in his enthusiasm Evan had started to walk backwards, right into a display of canned cranberry sauce. As it is, Tommy is too late to fully stop him. He grabs him by the arm and tries to pull him away but by then Evan has already lost his balance and he ends up falling over the cans and pulling Tommy along. 

“Oh my god!” Evan mumbles, on the floor and covered in cranberry sauce. “Ouch.”

In the same position as him, Tommy nods, agreeing, “Yeah… ouch.” 

“Are you guys ok?” One of the supermarket workers asks them, looking down at them. 

“Peachy,” Tommy mutters.

“I’m so, so sorry! I can’t believe I did this! It was a mistake… I’m so clumsy sometimes,” Evan says apologetically while sitting down slowly. 

“It’s ok. It happens, not that often, but it happens,” Susan, as her name tag reads, says. “Are any of you hurt?”

“No, just embarrassed,” Evan replies. 

“Tomorrow… that’s when we will be feeling it,” Tommy groans, standing up and giving a hand to Evan. 

“Should we clean it up?” Evan asks hesitantly. 

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Susan reassures him. “The facilities are near the bakery section, by the way.” 

They thank Susan and go to the bathroom to wash a little bit of the sauce. 

“This is not going well,” Evan complains. 

“Don’t worry about it… think about it this way, it will be a funny story to tell everyone,” Tommy says, helping Evan with cleaning his lovely curls. 

“No one will know about this, Tommy. No one!” 

Tommy laughs and kisses him on the cheek. “Alright, my lips are sealed. Should we continue with the shopping?”

“Ugh, yes! We don’t really have any other choice,” Evan says, pouting. 

—

Evan starts to get fidgety again once they are back in the truck and driving to his loft. 

“Hey! We’ve got all the ingredients you need, right? It will be great, I know it,” Tommy tries to reassure him, his hand reaching over from the steering wheel and grabbing one of Evan's hands. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Evan gives him a barely there smile that is not fooling anybody. 

The nervousness and fidgeting get worse as they approach Evan’s door. He even takes his time opening it, doing it as slowly as possible. As soon as he opens it, though, he pulls Tommy inside and quickly closes and locks the door. 

Completely bewildered by the action, Tommy puts the groceries down. “Evan, what is go- what the hell is that?” 

There, by the loft window, is a cage. A cage with a turkey in it. A very much alive turkey. 

“It’s a turkey,” Evan replies too casually. 

“A tur- a turk… why do you have a turkey?” Tommy asks him, beyond confused. He even pinches his arm, trying to see if he is having a weird dream. Or maybe he got concussed when they fell in the supermarket. 

“So, funny story,” Evan starts. “You see, yesterday, we had a call to this place and this dude had an illegal turkey.” 

Tommy blinks once, twice, but he remains confused. “Ok? That doesn’t explain the turkey in your loft though.” 

“Right… the thing is that the dude was trying to get him to fight, sort of like cockfighting, you know? So, he is quite aggressive.”

“How aggressive?” Tommy asks, taking a step back.

He is suddenly having flashbacks of when they had responded to that call with Maurice… he shivers all over. 

“Quite a lot, unfortunately. That’s why I begged Bobby to let me take him to one of the farm sanctuaries or a center where they rehabilitate animals,” Evan tells him with a bright smile. 

Tommy doesn’t know where to start. “And Bobby just said yes?”

“Well, I had to be really convincing, say that I was afraid that Alex here would end up getting killed, and I might have also said that I was going to take him to a farm yesterday,” Evan says, blushing but shrugging his shoulders. “But I was too tired and today I already had plans with you… so I will take him tomorrow.”

“Ok, so you aren’t actually planning to keep him, then?” Tommy asks, extremely relieved, and ignoring the fact that of course already named the turkey. 

Evan opens his mouth but gets interrupted by Alex gobbling, startling them both.

“Jesus, that’s loud,” Tommy says, resisting the urge to cover his ears. 

“He is, which is why I was hoping that we could keep him in your house? I’m not allowed to have pets here,” Evan asks, looking adorable, peering at him through his eyelashes. 

Sighing in resignation, Tommy nods. One day he will be able to say no to Evan, but today is not that day. 

[starfruit-selections]

TW: CNC, unsafe self bondage

Blindfold? Check. Shears? Check. Ankles? Tight. Wrists? About to be. With that, I pull on the rope in my hand and tighten the hogtie I've put myself in. I'm on the floor in my room, naked except for a rope harness on my torso, and the other ropes binding my body. Pulling again, the hogite gets tighter as my legs are pulled up and back, towards my arms. One more good yank, and it's plenty tight.

Actually maybe too tight? The rope is pulling hard on my ankles and wrists now, too hard. Fuck. I struggle a bit, but it's not long before my fingers start feeling cold. This is bad.

I roll over and try to reach for my shears. Normally I would just struggle out of a tie like this, but the rope around my wrists has been cinched way too tight for that. I need to cut myself out, and fast.

I continue rolling around on the floor, feeling around with quickly numbing hands for the shears that I have specifically for situations like this, but I can't for the life of me find them. I swear I had left them right beside me! I should've rolled over them by now! Fuck fuck fuck.

My hands are feeling tingly now, and I'm starting to lose feeling. Even if I do manage to find my shears at this point, I doubt I'd be able to use them. This is really fucking bad. What can I do?

Call for help? My roommate is just in the living room, they'd definitely be able to hear me. But then they'd see me like this, naked and tied up in the floor. This is only my 2nd week in this apartment, my 2nd week knowing this person, and they'd be seeing me at my most vulnerable. I don't know if I'd be able to live that down. Fuck it, it's better than losing my hands.

"Elle!" I call out, still rolling around, still prodding the floor with my quickly numbing hands in a desperate attempt to find the shears. "Elllle!"

"I'm coming I'm coming, jeez. What's all the fuss abo- Oh." she cuts off as I hear my door opening. For a moment, I'm thankful that the blindfold is preventing me from seeing her reaction. "Well now isn't this something…"

I don't want to hear what she's about to say. "Please, the rope on my wrists is too tight, I'm losing feeling, there are shears around here somewhere, cut me out, please!"

"Well alright sweetie, I guess I can do that, lets see now… Ah! Here are the shears." Something's off about her tone as she walks past me, presumably to pick up the shears. That doesn't matter right now though, I just need out.

"Please, cut me out quick! I'm going numb!" I yell louder than I need to, seeing as how she's right next to me. It's more of a plea than anything.

"Calm your tits and hold still so I don't cut you, little rope bunny." Again the tone, and did she call me a rope bunny? Whatever, she's cutting me out, that's all that matters right now.

I hear her kneel down and get right up next to me, although she seems to take her sweet time doing it. She grabs my arms tight, I guess to keep me still? I am struggling quite a bit. "Alright, lets free those pretty little wrists free, shall we?" I feel the cold metal of the shears press against my skin, as she cuts through the bindings on my wrists. Finally, I can feel the blood flowing back in to my hands. I'm gonna be fine.

"Fuck, thank you, I really thought I was going to-" before I can finish, I feel a new length of rope wrapping around my wrists and being pulled tight. "Wait what the hell are you doing?" I yell, and try to struggle away. She has a solid grip on my arms though, and I can't put up much of a fight with how tired my arms are. Before long my wrists are once again bound, though not nearly as tight.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, slut" Elle says, keeping a solid grip on my arms and pulling me up on to my feet. The rope attaching my wrists to my ankles is gone, but my ankles remained tied together tightly. "Obviously you love being tied up…" Elle continues, ignoring my protests. "And I would hate to take that away from you so soon, but you clearly can't be trusted to tie yourself up properly. Luckily, you seem to have left plenty of rope lying around for me to help you out with! Still, I wouldn't want to leave you un-supervised, so you can come out to the living room with me and have your fun in there." What the fuck does she think she's doing?

"No! Elle, just let me go and untie me, I'm done for tonight, really!" I plead with her, still struggling against her grip. Fuck she's strong.

"Nonsense! Now, why don't you quite down a little, hm?" Before I can protest, she shoves something into my mouth so that I can't speak. Judging by the material and the taste, I can tell it's my pantied from earlier that I had left lying on the floor. Then I feel a piece of rope wrap around my head in front of my mouth before being pulled tight, preventing me from spitting out the gag.

"Much better! Now, to the living room we go." With that, she picks me up and throws me over her shoulder. Despite my depserate struggling, her hold on me remains tight as I'm carried out into the living room and placed down in my stomach, not nearly as gently as I would've liked. Once I'm on the ground, I immediately feel my arms and legs get yanked together by a new rope. Elle must have some experience with rope herself, as before I know it I'm tied up in a new hogtie.

I once again try to protest, but only muffled grunts are able to make it through the gag. I finally feel her let go of my arms, but it doesn't matter at this point. This tie is much better than the one I had done to myself, and even as I struggle, it doesn't loosen at all.

"There you go, tied up nice and tight, but properly this time. Huh, seems you left a wet spot on my shoulder when I carried you out here, what a slut. Don't worry, I'll make sure you get a chance to make it up to me later. I've been eyeing that pretty mouth of yours ever since you moved in, and I'm sure it'd feel great around my cock. I have a movie to finish though, so I'll let you have your fun for now. Just pretend that I'm not here!"

And with that, the TV starts playing, and I'm left on the floor, entirely at the mercy of my roommate. I continue to struggle for a while, but it's not long before I give up. At least I can feel my hands again, I guess. I have a feeling this is going to be a long night though…

[maya-caffrey]

Short Circuit

pairing: connor (rk800) x reader words: 1k summary: reader sees Connor outside of work for the first time in normal human clothes and dies a little bit (comedy, fluff) warnings: language, lack of proofreading, fic from reader's pov a/n: let's pretend this is after the good ending and androids can own property now cause we're going to Connor's place etc

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Words cannot describe the amount of hate I have for Fowler. On my day off he asks me to take some evidence over to Connor for a 'quick analysis', like, Jesus Christ dude wait for the labwork like the rest of us. The nerve of this guy, honestly. Anyway, if you were wondering why I was driving to Connor's place first thing on a Sunday, that was it.

Yes, I hate my boss, how original, but I would never pass up an opportunity to see Connor. Sure, he's my colleague, but he's also my friend. And also I may be in love with him have a normal, tiny, minuscule crush on him. I don't know how it happened, I didn't even realize it, but yes, I do, in fact, have feelings for Connor. "Oh but he's an andro-" Go fuck yourself, he's more human than most people these days.

Before I realized it, I was at his place and almost knocked on his door. Almost being the keyword here, because I heard a voice from the inside.

"Detective! Just a minute. I will be right there."

"Holy shit, how did you know? Let me guess, X-ray vision?" It's always something with him. Of course, Cyberlife's most intelligent android comes with X-ray vision. I feel stupid for not guessing right away. Wait, does this mean he had X-ray vision all this time? That feels like an ethical grey area. Is that allowed? My rapid descent down that rabbit hole was interrupted by the sound of the door being unlocked.

"Ring Camera. Come on in!" He led me inside and I absent-mindedly followed him before I noticed it. He was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. Connor Anderson (legal name, yes), android detective by day, who famously only wore suits, was standing in front of me, in goddamn sweats. And he looked like he stepped right out of my dreams.

I did not know it was possible to be any level of attractive in fucking pajamas, but oh my god, it absolutely was. He looked hot as hell. I don't know if it was from having only seen him in formals, or the fact that Kamski knowingly made a hottie, but I was reveling in this sight.

His T-shirt fit him exactly as it should have, and his sleeves stopped halfway through the biceps I didn't even know he had. His hair looked unkempt and tousled, which was questionable because there's no way he slept, right? I was very sure he could hear my heartbeat because that sucker was betraying me and beating way too fast.

I could not form coherent thoughts for another full minute or so. I am not even holding back, he genuinely looked so attractive he quite literally stole my breath away. All I could do was mumble nonsense while staring at him like I misplaced my glasses.

"Detective, are you alright?"

"What? Me? Yeah, no problem, bud." Bud???? I'd have slapped myself if I could.

"Your body temperature is rapidly rising and your heart is displaying signs of arrhythmia. I suggest we-"

"I suggest we nothing, Connor. I promise I'm fine." See that kids, right there, is what we call a bald-faced lie.

"If you say so. What brings you here, detective?"

"Detective? Come on, we're not at work, man. Chill."

"Alright then, (Y/n), what brings you here?" (Y/n). The way he said my name made me want to explode. Sure, everyone says my name, its my name but oh my god, when he says it, he makes me want to change my last name to his. Which would be Hank's. Huh. That's weird.

"Right, yeah, work stuff. Fowler sent me with evidence for you to analyze. Apparently, they can't wait for the lab like the rest of us mortals." I shoved the file into his hands a little too quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice how my hands were shaking. He noticed.

"Your hands are trembling." Of course he noticed. Connor notices everything.

"I'm just… cold," I lied, despite standing in his very well-heated apartment.

Connor tilted his head slightly, that signature analytical look of his making me want to crawl under a rock. "You appear to be experiencing stress. Should I—"

"Connor, no. I don't need an analysis, I need to… sit down." That was the best I could come up with. Great. Very smooth.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing toward his couch. I moved to sit down, hoping a change of scenery would calm my nerves. It didn’t.

Connor sat across from me, still in those damn sweatpants, his expression unreadable as he opened the file and started flipping through its contents. His focus should’ve made me feel at ease- it was just Connor being Connor- but instead, I found myself staring at his hands. They were annoyingly perfect, like the rest of him, and I couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like if he- nope. No. Abort mission.

"Is something wrong with the file?" he asked suddenly, looking up.

"What? No! The file's fine. Great file. Top-tier evidence. You're gonna love it." Jesus Christ, someone take my mouth away.

Connor raised an eyebrow. "You’re behaving… unusually."

"I’m behaving perfectly normal," I said, crossing my arms in what I hoped was a casual way but probably looked defensive. "Maybe you're the one behaving unusually. I mean, sweatpants? Who are you and what have you done with Connor?"

He blinked, then looked down at himself as if realizing for the first time what he was wearing. "Hank suggested I try some human rituals like pajamas and sleep to better accommodate my deviancy. He claims it’s a key aspect of ‘human relaxation.’ Was this choice inappropriate?"

"No!" I said, a little too quickly. "No, you look—" amazing, perfect, hotter than anyone has a right to look "—fine. You look fine."

Connor studied me for a moment, and I swear I saw the faintest flicker of amusement cross his face. Was he… smirking? Oh no. Oh no, he knew.

"You should consider it," he said, casually returning to the file.

"Consider what?"

"Relaxing. You seem… tense."

And just like that, the ball was back in his court. I was flustered, he was composed, and I was left wondering how I was supposed to get through the rest of this visit without making a complete fool of myself.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

a/n: y'all, this is my first time writing dbh, sorry if it sucks T_T

[fruvittea]

between the lines

💌﹒→﹒ joshua x reader (college au) ﹒ ﹒ ♪

— genre: romance, slice of life, friends to lovers

— word count: 1.2k

— warnings? none

Joshua Hong had always been the epitome of calm. Even amid the chaos of college, he carried himself like a walking sonnet, effortlessly poetic and endlessly kind. He was the kind of guy professors remembered by name and group project partners fought over because they knew he would carry the team without complaint.

And for some inexplicable reason, he had chosen you as his best friend.

“Let me guess,” he said, sliding into the library seat across from you. His voice was soft and teasing, the kind of tone that made people lean in just to hear him better. “You haven’t started the paper yet.”

You shot him a mock glare, spinning your pen between your fingers. “I don’t need your judgment right now, Hong. I need inspiration.”

His smile grew, dimple flashing as he opened his laptop. “Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous today.”

This was how most of your study sessions went—Joshua helping you focus while you tried (and usually failed) to ignore the way his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms or how his glasses made him look even more unfairly attractive. He had been your friend since freshman year, when a misplaced coffee cup and a chance meeting in a lecture hall had spiraled into late-night conversations, shared playlists, and countless study sessions.

“You’re staring.”

You blinked, cheeks heating. “What? No, I wasn’t.”

Joshua smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

You scoffed and flipped a page in your notebook to look busy. It wasn’t your fault that he had that annoying habit of running a hand through his hair every time he thought too hard about something. Or that he smiled like he was sharing some secret joke with you, even when he wasn’t saying a word.

“Anyway,” you said, desperate to change the subject. “What’s this ‘generous’ inspiration you’re offering?”

“Depends,” he said, propping his chin on his hand and tilting his head, eyes sparkling in that maddening way of his. “What’s it worth to you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not much, considering you’re supposed to be my friend. Generosity isn’t supposed to come with a price tag.”

Joshua laughed, a quiet, warm sound that you felt somewhere in your chest. “Fine, fine. How about this? If I help you finish your outline, you buy me coffee after. Deal?”

It was a simple enough offer, but the way his gaze lingered on you, half-hopeful, half-playful, made your stomach flip. You couldn’t tell if he was teasing like usual or if there was something more in the way his smile softened when you finally nodded.

“Deal,” you said, shaking off the strange warmth spreading through you. He was just Joshua. Your best friend. That was all.

The outline took another two hours, mostly because Joshua kept finding ways to distract you.

“You know, you really should stop biting your pen like that,” he said at one point, his tone oddly low.

You looked up, startled. “Why?”

“Just… you’ll ruin your teeth,” he said after a pause, glancing back at his screen. But his ears had turned pink, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers fidgeted with the edge of his notebook.

Later, when you grumbled about a particularly annoying paragraph, he leaned over, closer than necessary, his shoulder brushing yours as he pointed at your laptop.

“Try rephrasing it like this,” he murmured, his voice soft in your ear.

You froze, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. His cologne—subtle and warm—was suddenly all you could focus on, and you had to force yourself to nod like a normal person.

“Right. Yeah. Good idea,” you mumbled, hastily typing.

By the time you finished, your brain felt like it had run a marathon. But Joshua seemed completely unfazed, closing his laptop with a satisfied smile.

“Coffee time,” he said, standing and stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin.

You looked away so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The coffee shop was crowded, a low hum of conversation filling the air as you and Joshua slid into a booth. You sipped your latte, trying not to think too hard about the fact that this felt suspiciously like a date.

“You’ve been quiet,” Joshua said, watching you over the rim of his cup.

“Just tired,” you lied, avoiding his gaze.

“Hm.” He didn’t look convinced.

The silence stretched, not uncomfortable but charged in a way you couldn’t quite place. You fiddled with your sleeve, trying to push down the fluttering in your chest.

“You’re terrible at hiding things,” he said suddenly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Joshua leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “It means I can tell when something’s on your mind. And lately, you’ve been acting… different.”

Your heart skipped. “Different how?”

“Like…” He hesitated, his eyes searching yours. “Like you’re trying to keep your distance from me.”

The words hit harder than they should have. “I’m not,” you said quickly, too quickly.

“Really?” His voice softened, and for a moment, his usual teasing tone was gone. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the way he was looking at you—gentle, patient, like he was waiting for something—made the words catch in your throat.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you said finally, your voice quieter. “I just… I don’t know. You’ve been acting weird, too.”

“Weird how?”

“Like…” You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck. “Like you’re flirting with me or something.”

Joshua blinked, then laughed, a soft, breathless sound that made your stomach flip. “Maybe I am.”

Your head shot up, eyes wide. “What?”

“Maybe I’ve been flirting with you,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze steady. “And maybe I’ve been waiting for you to notice.”

The air between you felt electric, every sound in the coffee shop fading into the background. You searched his face for any sign that he was joking, but there was nothing but quiet sincerity in his eyes.

“You’re kidding,” you said weakly, though your heart was pounding.

“I’m not,” he said, leaning back with a soft smile. “But I get it if you don’t feel the same way.”

Your mind raced, torn between disbelief and the overwhelming urge to say something—anything—that would make him understand just how much you did feel the same way.

“Joshua, I…” You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I thought you were just being nice. I didn’t think you…”

“Liked you?” he finished, his smile growing.

You nodded, your hands gripping your cup tightly.

“Well,” he said, leaning forward again, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Now you know.”

And as his smile turned just a little shy, just a little hopeful, you felt something inside you shift, the weight of your doubt lifting like a curtain. Maybe he really had been flirting all along.

And maybe—just maybe—you’d been waiting for this moment just as much as he had.

✴︎🪷𓈒͏ུུ̑̑. ཉ — by @fruvittea

[caffedrine]

Rio Ortiz - The The Boundary of Touch(ing) - Event Summary

A big thank you to @candied-boys for providing a recording of the event.

This is a quick and dirty summary - if any other summary is made that contradicts this, they’re probably right and I’m wrong. But it’s still a fun ride.

One afternoon Emma and Rio are on break and are taking a moment to relax side by side. Suddenly, Rio takes out a small box and opens the lid. While he was out on inspections this morning, he had the chance to visit the cake shop Emma likes and bought their newest creation. Emma is excited and thanks Rio.

Oh, how cute is she? Rio wishes he was trained as a painter and could capture this moment. This is a loss on the national, nay, global scale.

Emma laughs, Rio is always dramatic. Besides, while she is happy for the cake, doesn’t she always smile for him?

Well, yes, but each of her smiles are unique and special! Right now, this smile is sweet and fluffy like the cake before them, and Rio feels like melting as he watches her. But, this morning, her smile was lively as the rising sun and . . .

Embarrassed, Emma cuts Rio off and thanks him for his praise. Oh, but this new expression is cute too . . . but yes, they should take a break and eat the cake. Rio begins to brew some tea leaves, and the aroma leaves Emma swooning. She praises Rio’s tea brewing skills, and Rio marvels over how she continues to make him happy.

The moment is interrupted by Silvio demanding Rio fix that creepy expression on his face. Emma jumps a little at his voice and when she looks at him, she sees Silvio looks worn out.

Rio complains about Silvio interrupting him, but Silvio continues; Rio has a guest to entertain.

Earlier, when Rio had accompanied Silvio on a business negotiation, he and Silvio’s client had hit it off over some strange topics. And now said client wants to speak with Rio again and is waiting patiently in the guest salon.

(Actually, this kind of sounds like a Silvio problem, not a Rio one)

Emma assures Rio that she understands, and besides, work is important. She is a little worried that Rio’s break time was interrupted, but she also wants to support him in his work.

Rio takes Emma’s hand and presses something into it before kissing its back. He tells her that this should go well with the tea, and leaves. Emma opens her hand to find a very cute rose-shaped sugar candy. She smiles at Rio’s thoughtfulness as Silvio sighs.

Silvio complains that Emma is now grinning like a lunatic. Diplomatically Emma apologizes and offers to pour Silvio a cup of the tea Rio brewed. Silvio accepts and after swallowing, admits that the tea is not absolutely terrible. Which, in Silvio speak, is high praise.

Emma notes that Rio is amazing at brewing tea, he has spent a lot of time doing it just the way she likes, like the perfect, nice, fiancé that he-

Silvio cuts her off, listening to her is making the tea taste bad. In fact, he’s surprised that she’s been able to endure Rio all this long, he’s been even more annoying than normal recently.

Emma disagrees, if anything, she feels lucky to be with Rio.

Silvio points out that everyone has boundaries, and excessive attention, even from someone you love, can be a nuisance. Not that he’s telling her how to feel, but this is a general observation.

But, hasn’t there been a time when Emma was tired and Rio fussed over her too much, making her even more tired?

Come to think of it . . .

*Flashback time*

Rio gushes over Emma’s body, noting that every part of it is beautiful. But, he thinks he found a tense spot and asks if he could help Emma with it. He begins to massage Emma’s neck, and she marvels over how skilled he is.

Rio praises Emma for working so hard and promises to help her relax. Emma thanks him but asks if this isn’t too much and if Rio isn’t tired as well.

Rio insists that he is fine, just touching her makes him feel good. Besides, he loves touching her, all over her cute body.

*Flashback End*

Thinking about it now, Rio just doesn’t convey his feelings, he conveys them in a way that supports her. Oh, no, has she just been taking advantage of him all this time?

Silvio groans, he’s had enough and will go back to work. Later he’ll properly thank her for the ‘not horrible’ tea. Standing up, he leaves the room.

Left alone, Emma sips the tea Rio brewed for her and eats the cake Rio bought for her, lost in thought.

She is confident that she knows Rio better than anyone else, just as he understands her. But can she convey her love just as supportive as Rio can? But if she could, Rio would be so happy!

That’s it! She just needs to find a way, and doubtlessly Rio would be happier than ever.

Though she should take Silvio’s warnings into account, Rio has his own boundaries, and she honestly has no idea what they could be. She needs to figure out what is safe and what crosses the line.

Later, after they both finished their work, Rio and Emma are lying side by side in bed, chatting happily. Emma thanks Rio for the tea and cake, they were perfect. Rio is happy that Emma enjoyed it, and thanks to the time spent with her earlier, the impromptu meeting with Silvio’s ‘guest’ went well.

Of course, Rio had been kept busy up until now, and Emma can imagine how tired he is. This is an opportunity for her to help relieve his fatigue. She gently takes Rio’s hand in both of hers, and he asks what she’s doing.

Emma explains that she loves it when Rio does this to her, so if she does it to him, he should like it too. After working all day today, she wants to heal him.

Oh, but just seeing her heals Rio. If she goes much farther, he’s going to have enough energy to run over a hundred laps around the castle. Emma laughs and tells Rio to lay down on his stomach, she wants to massage him next.

Of course Rio is happy with attention, but isn’t Emma tired too? Wouldn’t she rather he massage her? Rio recalls mentioning before that just touching her heals him.

No, Emma wants to do this for him. Plus, she enjoys touching him too.

Oh, that loving smile is the end of Rio. They should find a way to bottle it up, it’s the perfect panacea for any ailment, and they’d be the best doctors on the continent.

Okay, but before that, the massage. Sitting up, Emma guides Rio face down and gently touches him, working at easing the tension in his neck.

Wow, Emma’s massage is enough for Rio to float up to heaven. But if he went there, he’d miss out on this massage, and wouldn’t be able to taste this happiness. No, he should stay on earth if only to savor this sensation further.

Emma laughs, Rio is as dramatic as ever. But he is also very tense, and she thanks Rio for working as hard.

As far as boundaries go, Rio seems happy, so this massage is on her checklist as ‘safe’.

Emma begins to praise Rio, while she loves it when they can work together, she wants to brag about how amazing he is when he performs higher tasks.

Oh, now she’s done it. Rio is so energized, forget about running around the castle, he wants to dive into the sea and swim laps around the continent.

Okay, so praise is safe. To wrap it up, Emma leans down and kisses the nape of Rio’s now relaxed neck. Rio gasps and shoots up, and Emma is taken aback. She apologizes, explaining that she was trying to express her affection and didn’t mean to go too far.

Rio hugs her tightly and then pushes her down on the bed. There was nothing Emma could do to him that he wouldn’t like. He was just a little overstimulated with that kiss, but he did like it.

Okay, how about she massage other areas and finish with a kiss? Rio looks happy, and Emma adds that she was very careful not to leave behind a kiss mark, but since the rest of his body would normally be covered by clothes, she could leave a mark there.

A kiss mark? Oh, but if only Rio could figure out a way to make such a mark permanent.

Probably impossible. Well, Rio should take off his clothes so Emma can get at him. Hiding her embarrassment, she helps Rio undress before guiding him back to lie down on the bed. She works on his arms, his shoulders, and his waist. As promised, she leaves behind a prominent kiss mark. It’s embarrassing to do it, but Rio seems happy.

Afterward, Rio lets out a long thin breath. Emma asks if it feels good, and Rio admits that it does, but he must now apologize. Rio pulls her down, pinning her to the bed, and apologizes for not being able to hold back any longer.

Emma is happy enough with the turn of events, and admits that she was worried that being this bold would be a bother to him. Gazing into Rio’s eyes, she initiates a kiss.

Rio’s response is an intense, deep kiss that Emma grows lost in. Her consciousness blurs into white and she can think of nothing other than Rio.

Rio tells her that there’s nothing that she can do to him that he wouldn’t love. Everything she does heals something inside him. He then covers her in a storm of kisses.

The next morning finds them on a holiday together, and Emma takes the opportunity to visit the town with Rio.

Emma marvels over how beautiful Rio’s hair is, sparkling under the sun. With Rio’s permission, Emma strokes it, feeling its smoothness. Rio assures Emma that right now, her smile is far more radiant than his hair could be. It’s beautiful and precious, almost otherworldly.

Emma points out a nearby shop that she wants to visit. She and Rio are fine with holding hands, but how do they handle linking arms?

Rio is delighted with this closeness, and his feelings make the town even more beautiful.

They share a parfait, and the dog-shaped cookie reminds Emma of Rio, so she kisses it. Rio moans that they should hurry back to the castle so he can kiss her for real.

Emma tried a variety of things throughout the day, and thinks she was successful at making Rio happy. At the end of their date, Rio thanks Emma for the day, and Emma is delighted.

She also considers Rio – she has yet to figure out his boundaries. If there aren’t any when he’s tired or when they’re in public, then where are they? Or maybe Rio has no boundaries when it comes to her? But still, Emma decides to experiment until she is satisfied.

Days pass, and one day, Rio has to go to a distant town and stay the night.

The day without Rio is tough, and the next day has Emma waiting for him while sitting on his bed, picturing his smile.  She imagines Rio must feel the same way, and would probably let her do anything she wanted to him. Today would not be a fruitful day for exploring his boundaries.

Just as she considers it, Rio opens the door to his room, and cheers at the sight of Emma waiting for him. They hug each other and admit to thinking about each other the entire day. Rio admits that he was starting to hallucinate seeing Emma, but they held no candle to the real one. Emma didn’t go so far as to hallucinate, but she did miss Rio a bunch and wants him now.

Emma kisses Rio, who enthusiastically responds. Soon Rio has Emma under him on the bed, but before they go further, Rio wants to talk. He’s noticed that she’s been experimenting with him, touching him then staring at him to see his reaction.

Of course, Rio approves of this scientific method.

Emma finally admits and explains that she’s trying to figure out their boundaries. Yep, that makes sense, but unfortunately, when it comes to Emma, Rio has no boundaries. He wants anything and everything she gives him.

Then again, Emma did come close to a different kind of boundary. Rio thought she was testing the limits of his sanity, how far she could push him before he snapped and went feral for her. But, at the time, Emma didn’t seem to want to have sex, so Rio was desperately holding himself back. Well, admittedly he did slip up a couple of times.

And that last time, when Emma told him she wanted him . . .

Rio buries his face in Emma’s neck, kissing her bare skin again and again. Rio is done holding back, and doesn’t think she’ll get any sleep tonight.

Well, this experiment hasn’t been a total wash. Besides, Emma learned how far she can push Rio, and how she can take away his sense of reason. As Rio begins to slide off her clothes, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close enough to kiss.

Rio slides his hand down her and into her, until Emma is at her limit. Then Rio begins to merge their bodies together. Emma tells him that the more he gives her, the more she wants to take.

The next morning, Emma sleeps in and then enjoys tea and baked goods with Rio. Now that they’re both feeling saner, Rio is wondering what prompted Emma’s series of tests.

Well, it started with Silvio . . .

After hearing the story, Rio complains that Silvio is always stirring shit. Emma defends him, after all, he gave her the idea to switch up how she expresses her love to Rio.

Oh, but he’s not consciously switching up the way he expresses his love. He just thinks of something he wants to do and does it without holding back.

Huh, that makes sense. And on that note, Emma decides that she shouldn’t hold back either. Rio groans, he could die from this cuteness.

Silvio may have said that there were limits to expressing love, but for Emma and Rio, their love is limitless.

[salty-autistic-writer]

Sunshine at noon wakes him up. Tommy furrows his brows in annoyance and blinks at the too-bright snippet of the outside world he can glimpse from where he’s curled up on his couch. Clear sky. It would be such a nice day for flying. Just like yesterday.

But instead of flying, Tommy has been parked on the same spot on his couch for a few days now, wrapped in a blanket like a sad burrito that someone left at the side of the road. He can imagine just fine how the rest of him looks. Unwashed, uncombed, unshaved. It’s a good thing no one will ever see him like this. He’s invisible. Hidden from the world.

Tommy took a personal leave. No one at work batted an eye. No one complained. It never happened before and after transferring from the 118 to the 217, Tommy made sure he had a certain reputation. He’s reliable. On time. Capable. Unproblematic. Friendly enough that people talk to him and want to go drink a beer with him once in a while. And he sold his role well enough, obviously. No one is worrying too much about him. They think he’s just … sick. Down with a cold or something.

They don’t know the brutal truth: Tommy is a complete mess. And he can’t find the energy to change anything about it.

All he does these days is sleep, stare at the TV without following what’s happening, drag himself up to go to the bathroom once in a while and get himself something to drink or eat - only the barest necessities, go back to slump on the couch again, and eat lots of ice cream. A ton of ice cream, actually. Empty containers surround him.

He’s pathetic. And an idiot. An idiot who manages to destroy everything good in his life and in the lives of the people he gets too close to. He messed things up before. But this is different. Because this time, he was almost about to be happy. And he had to throw that away too.

It’s better this way , Tommy tries to convince himself once again. I can’t be selfish. Evan deserves better. He may be hurt, sad and angry for the moment, but he will get over it. He is amazing and will find an amazing person. Someone who doesn’t carry around suitcases filled with past baggage. Someone who isn’t damaged. Someone who doesn’t stand on a wobbly heap of insecurities, ready to fall down the rabbit hole of panic and overthinking any moment. He will find an amazing person and he will be happy. Yes. He will be happy. 

No. Tommy can’t be selfish. But that’s it. He already was, right? He indulged himself. He allowed himself to enjoy what he had with Evan. Enjoyed it too much. Because it felt so good. It felt so right. Evan was always sunshine and nice things, hope and gentleness, honesty and acceptance, wrapped into touches that burned without being painful. 

Tommy took all that and then forgot that it couldn’t last forever. Because good things always come to an end. And the moment Evan spoke about moving in. About futures. It hit him. Evan doesn’t know enough. And Tommy loves Evan too much to let him walk into something he is going to regret. He learned enough lessons to know how this one would end. So he ran.

He ran once again. And now Tommy doesn’t know where to go.

God. He can’t even stay in Los Angeles, right? Something tugs painfully at Tommy’s heart when he realises that. He built a life here in LA. A relatively stable one compared to whatever he had before that. He liked to think it was a good life. With a stable job. With colleagues who like him enough to talk to him after work. With a house and a garage and hobbies. With neighbours who smile at him. A quiet life. A normal life.

A lonely life. 

Loneliness protects me, Tommy thinks grimly. He should leave. It would be better for everyone.

It was nice to reconnect with Hen and Howie. It was nice to meet Eddie. They have a lot in common. It’s been a while since he could talk about his time in the military with someone who knew exactly what he was feeling. It’s been nice to see Bobby and eat his lasagna again. But in the end, all of them are Evan’s family. So it’s only reasonable that they won’t want to spend time with Tommy anymore. He lost them with Evan.

So what is holding him here?

So you really want to run again? That doubtful little voice nagging his mind wonders.

I need to. It’s better this way. For everyone including myself. 

Is it? Or is this just you following a pattern because you’re too scared to wait and see if things might turn out differently this time? Because they could right? You can’t see the future. 

And the next thought going through his mind might be the sharpest. It cuts into his heart and leaves it bleeding. It hurts. But it’s so clear and real.

What do you have to lose anyway? 

Tommy sits up and buries his face in his hands. Yes. What does he have to lose, now that he destroyed everything? He has nothing and no one. Because he’s a coward. Always has been. Always will be …

The doorbell rings. Tommy flinches violently and stares towards the door, wide-eyed, his heart pounding.

Immediately, Tommy is flooded by anxiety. He’s not expecting anyone. Oh God. He really hopes it’s not Evan. He’s not ready for that talk. Or maybe it’s just someone from the 118 who decided to tell him in person what an asshole and coward he is. Well. I deserve that, Tommy guesses tiredly.

The doorbell rings again.

Tommy sighs. He drags his body up, letting the blanket slide on the couch and shuffles to the door, preparing himself for being yelled at. Or for being punched immediately. When he opens, however, he’s in for a different surprise.

“Lucy?!”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t check on you?” Lucy asks, raising a brow. She eyes him up and down, crossing her arms. “You look horrible.”

“I know,” Tommy mutters, scratching at the back of his head, feeling how greasy his growing hair is.

Lucy doesn’t wait for an invitation. She pushes past him, walks right into the living room, puts her hands on her hips, while she takes a look around and shakes her head. She reaches out to pick up one of the emptied ice cream containers that are littering the couch, the table, the floor. She turns to look at him, raising the container and a brow. “Jesus, Tommy.”

“I know,” Tommy sighs again, fidgeting with the hem of the old hoodie he’s wearing. He can't look her in the eye. Can't even ask her why she's here. He didn't think anyone would actually make the effort to drive by his house and ring the doorbell. And now he doesn't know how to deal with it.

“Have you eaten? I mean, anything else than ice cream? Come on. Let’s order Chinese,” Lucy says, already pulling out her phone.

A ghost of an almost smile appears on Tommy’s face. That’s why he likes Lucy. She’s direct and stern and somehow exactly what he needs right now. He doesn’t know how he deserves her being here, but it helps. It really does.

Their food arrives a little while later and they sit on the couch to eat. Tommy’s stomach growls when he smells the food and he feels a little dizzy. Wow. He didn’t even notice he was hungry before Lucy decided to pay him a visit.

“You broke up with Buck,” Lucy says, digging into her noodles. It’s not a question. It’s a statement. Tommy wonders if it's that obvious or if someone told her. And if so, who? “And now you are going to tell me why.”

Tommy sighs. “I thought it’s the right thing to do,” he says, after he chewed and swallowed his chicken. “The best thing for … for him.”

“So you freaked out,” Lucy says dryly. “It was a flight response. What did he do? Oh God,” she looks up from her food, wide-eyed. “Did the idiot propose already?!”

Tommy blinks. “Uh. No. He … He said he wants me to move in with him.”

Lucy deflates. She shakes her head. “Wow. Okay. Wait. Why would you move in with him? He has a loft. You have a house.” She gestures around, raising a brow. “I mean. If anything, he should be moving in with you. Is his bed even big enough for the two of you?”

“Not really,” Tommy mutters. Not if they wanted to use it for specific things. “But it doesn’t matter, Lucy. I broke up with him. Because he deserves better. He thinks he’s in love now. He thinks he wants a future with me now. But … There are things he doesn’t know about me. And I don’t want him to regret it. I don’t want to wake up in a few weeks, after living the dream, only to realise it’s going to turn into a nightmare where we both pretend that everything is alright but it isn’t …”

“Self-fulfilling-prophecy,” Lucy says, staring at him incredulously. “That’s what you’re doing right now, Tommy. You act like you know the future. Like you know how things are going to turn out. But you don’t! There are things he doesn’t know about you? So what? Tell him!”

“It’s not that easy,” Tommy mutters, his heart growing heavy. “I don’t want him to look at me differently. I love him too much for that.”

“You love him,” Lucy says, matter of factly, her brows wandering up.

Tommy swallows. He just said that, right? “I guess."

“So,” Lucy raises a finger. “Let me see if I got that right. You broke up with Buck because … you love him too much?”

Tommy doesn’t know if he’s supposed to cry or laugh. He shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do, Lucy. I just … I got scared. This whole thing was too good to be true in the first place. And now he acts like he wants a future with me but how can he know that? How can I know it? Also … I don’t want him to miss out on anything. He just discovered he’s bisexual. And I was his first relationship with a guy.” Lucy scoffs. “Oh, come on, Tommy. Buck is an adult. He can make his own choices. And from what you are telling me, he already did. No. This is about you , freaking out because you are scared this will end badly.”

“Well, it’s not like things worked out in the past,” Tommy says bitterly. “Even if I was trying.”

Lucy makes a sympathetic noise. She reaches out, her hand resting on Tommy’s shoulder. A comforting presence. “Okay, but look at yourself now. You’re the definition of miserable. Those last few months? You’ve been glowing. Always smiling and giggling like a teenager in love with your phone in your hand. It was quite disgusting, to be honest. But I loved it for you. Loved it for Buckley, too, a little. You’re sabotaging your own happiness because your trauma tries to tell you that whatever happened in the past will happen again. But that’s the thing. You don’t know that. If you run, you take away your chance to find out things are going to be okay. He makes you happy, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says hoarsely, feeling his throat tightening and tears gathering in his eyes. So happy.

“Then stop eating ice cream and start talking,” Lucy tells him.

Tommy swallows. She makes it sound so easy. But … “He won’t want me back now. Maybe he won’t even want to talk to me. I hurt him.”

“Just tell him the truth. Tell him what you told me. And then tell him the rest. If you don’t try, you will never know and I’m quite sure not knowing will hurt even more. Who knows. Maybe he’s already waiting. Or thinking about texting you.”

“Do you really think that's possible?” Tommy asks, surprised. He imagined a lot of scenarios. Most of them involve Evan cursing Tommy's name.

Lucy smiles at him. “I can imagine it. Come on, Tommy. I can see it in your sad wet eyes. You really do love this idiot. Don’t throw this away just like that. Don’t run away. At least try to fight for it. Because if he feels the same, he’s going to do that too.”

“I’m scared,” Tommy admits, glancing at his phone. Scared of the reaction hurting even more than this does.

Lucy rubs his back. “I know. But you can’t let fear control your life. Fear is a liar. And if you listen to it, it’s always going to take you back to the past.”

She gets up, collecting the empty boxes and putting them into a plastic bag. “Text him. Or call him. Don’t wait too long.” She wrinkles her nose. “And please stop playing hibernating hedgehog soon. I need you back in the cockpit.”

Tommy manages a smile. “I will try. Thank you, Lucy.”

“Of course,” she tells him, her eyes softening.

After Lucy leaves, Tommy stares at this phone. He stares at it for a long time. Then, he takes it in his hand and opens his chat with Evan. His heart clenches when he reads their last conversation. Feels like that happened an eternity ago. Before any of them even thought about a breakup. Because … they really were happy, right?

Tommy stares at the screen and he starts to think this is the scariest thing he’s ever been thinking about doing. Because what if Evan simply ignores or blocks him? Or … what if Evan just tells him to go to hell? Fear comes in waves, dark and cold. But then Tommy remembers that he really does not have much to lose. And he has at least one friend who will be there to collect the pieces when he breaks apart completely. He should get a grip and take a leap of faith. He messed this up. Maybe he can fix it. Maybe.

Tommy takes a deep breath and starts to type.

(AO3 link)