#so many trains go past every day

[the-polite-lurker]

The same train goes past at the same time every day and you’ve never cared. WHY ARE YOU BARKING AT IT NOW?! WHAT CHANGED?

[mutalune]

hey siri how do I stop feeling gutwrenchingly anxious in the guilt way for using the treatment methods available to me to not be in constant misery

[sortanonymous]

I can't stand the tension! I miss Unicorn: Warriors Eternal so much! I just need to know if it's coming back or not! If it's getting another season (or three like Genndy hoped for), then that's freaking awesome! If it's getting Zaslav'd before it can ever address that cliffhanger, then that's the biggest disgrace to happen in this industry in about a month or two (maybe idk). But just let ne know already! It's been a year! I miss Mel/Em, Ed, and the others so much! SGGYJGDGHBFGRKKDDYHHH

[sparxemberflame]

God damn it.

No matter how much I try not to I'm still here. Over three years and I'm still here.

Waiting. Whispering desperately to myself the truths and apologies and forgiveness and thank yous that I cannot give to you since you closed the door.

All the closure I've wanted for over three years now is to tell you I'm sorry, ask to be allowed to show the effort and change I've done, tell you you are forgiven for everything and thank you So Much for the honor it was to be your friend and partner.

That and to give you any and all closure you want as well. If I could just do that it'd finally be out of my goddamn head. Instead I keep repeating. Like a mantra, like a prayer. Hoping against hope I'll one day get to say it. And get to say it right.

I hope you don't have any thoughts like this. I wish all the best for you and hope that moving on has been easy. Somehow, despite it all. But fuck dude do I miss you. And boy do I wanna learn and meet who you've become.

But you don't even want to speak to me. That's alright. If all I can do for you is stay away. If all I can do is wait without expectation that the waiting will ever be rewarded. Then I'll do that. I can do that much at least.

[starlight-storytime]

essay in tags :p

[not-neverland06]

we're dating? ♡

logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've decided using the same X-men name/powers for the reader in my Logan fics is easier because coming up with superpowers is hard and stupid. They call you flux, like once, it's really just a nickname incoming warning for fluff so bad you'll get a cavity Summary: You're on probation from the team and official house arrest after a little accident with your powers. Logan knows you're going stir-crazy so he takes you to the arcade for some fun. And then your friendship takes a weird turn. (80's timeline in mind, but characters not from the 80’s will be mentioned) Clueless!reader

You’d had an accident, a few weeks ago. Well, accident might be downplaying it too much. You’d destroyed the garden and left a ten-foot crater in the backyard of Charles’ prestigious grounds. In your defense, you had warned them all that it wasn’t a good idea to take your cuffs off. 

The metal bands are entirely necessary to make sure you can’t lose control and wipe out everything around you. Manipulation at an atomic level is beyond fatal. You don’t want to think about what would have happened if you’d had the meltdown and the kids were anywhere near you. 

Charles had been able to shut you down, but now he’s keeping you on probation. You’ve been locked up in the mansion, unable to leave until you managed to get your abilities under control. There’s never been a problem with wearing the cuffs before. You don’t understand why he’s so against them now. 

You’re going stir-crazy. There’s only so many times you can pace your room before you start to lose your mind. He’s not even letting you teach classes anymore. You’re stuck training, all day, every day. 

“Focus!” Charles snaps and you resist the urge to turn his bones liquid. Maybe that would get him off your back. 

Instead of killing your friend, you glare at the large tank of water in front of you. You do what you’ve been doing for the past half hour. It fluctuates from liquid to gas to solid, and then liquid again. An endless cycle of repetition that makes you want to melt your brain so you don’t have to do this anymore. 

You drop your hand and huff. “This is pointless, Charles. What’s this even teaching me?”

He crosses his arms, walks over to you, and pointedly glares at the tank in front of you. You roll your eyes and look back at it. “Shit,” you hiss. In your frustration, the glass has cracked and splintered into dust. Water pools around your stool and leaks through the wood of the floor. You flick your wrist, the glass swirling around you before reforming into the tank. The water follows along, droplets lifting from the floor and dropping back into the container. 

“One moment of frustration, of distraction. That’s all it took.” Charles shakes his head and walks back over to his desk. He picks the cuffs up and you slip them silently back onto your wrists. “How can you be trusted to protect your team on the field if you can’t control this? What are you going to do when you’re panicked and fighting for your life?”

Shame bubbles in your gut. It makes you nauseous and forces your eyes to the floor so you don’t have to face him. He sighs, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing gently. You glance up at him briefly and he offers a strained smile. 

“This is for your protection, as much as you hate it, Flux. It’s necessary.” You scoff at the use of your X-Men name. Not much of an X-Man if you’re not even on the field anymore. 

“Right,” you mutter. “Thanks for the lesson in incompetency,” you don’t let him respond and slam the door to his office closed behind you. You feel bad the second you get outside and onto the porch. He doesn’t deserve your bitchiness. It’s your own fault you can’t get a handle on this. You don't have anyone to blame but yourself. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, throwing yourself into a rocking chair and running your hands over your face. The once comforting weight of your cuffs is now oppressing. It just feels like a constant reminder of your failure. You should already have a handle on all of this, but you struggle to even manipulate water. 

“Rough day?” You don’t open your eyes as Logan walks by. He takes a seat on the rocking chair beside you, letting out a low groan as he stretches. 

You let your hands drop into your lap, staring at the sunset so you don’t have to face him. You’ve already dealt with enough dejection today. You don’t need to look at him and be reminded that you want him in a way you can never have. 

“Mhm,” you hum, propping your head in your hand as you watch the sun disappear behind the clouds. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange that seem too hopeful for how you feel right now. 

Logan chuckles, the sound low and gravely. It makes your heart stutter in your chest and you cringe in embarrassment. You know he can hear the way your heart practically beats free of your ribs when you’re around him. You’re sure with that nose of his he can smell some sort of hormonal change in you every time you lay eyes on him. 

You swear you’ve never felt this way about a man before. You haven’t had many boyfriends before, it’s not really common among mutants. Not many people are accepting of you when they know what you are. And some people are too into you. 

But you've had crushes, and none of them have been as bad as this one is. You want to gnaw on him. It sounds fucking insane every time you think about it. But when you train with him and he tears his shirt off, you want to sink your teeth into him and never let go. 

You feel feral around him, a side of you surfacing that you’re not used to. Maybe it’s because of his mutant abilities. They are very animalistic, it’s easy to blame that on how desperately you crave him. 

You hate being around him and despise not being in his presence. It’s conflicting, and more often than not you sound like a bumbling idiot when you speak to him because your brain is going in a million different directions. 

You hear the familiar click of his lighter and then he shifts again. You risk a peek over at him and regret it the second you do. His head is tilted back, eyes closed in relaxation as he stretches across the porch. Smoke leaks out of his lips as he groans in satisfaction. 

You have to pick your jaw up off the floor and make sure there isn’t drool on your chin. This is insane. You’re a grown woman, how does he have this much of an effect on you? He’s not even doing anything! He’s just sitting there and you want to jump his bones. 

You whip your head around, mumbling incoherently to yourself to get it together. Logan peaks an eye open and you miss the mischievous tilt to his lips. “Something wrong?”

I need to have sex with you or I’m going to explode. 

You stutter for a few seconds, getting your mind back together. “Just training with Charles,” you mutter. 

He sits up a little straighter and quirks a brow. When you don’t continue he sighs. “And?” He prods, impatient for your answer. You hope you’re not reading into it, but you think he’s been as disappointed by your absence from the team as you are. He always complains about being partnered up with Scott. You like to think it’s because he misses you. But you’re probably just delusional. 

“And, nothing,” you sigh. Your hands flop against your legs and you glare at the bands on your wrists. “No progress. I still can’t control them without these on, and my abilities are watered down and useless with the cuffs.”

Logan huffs, you’re caught off guard by the sudden warmth on your thigh. You glance down, eyes widening ever so slightly when you see his hand on your leg. It nearly covers the whole thing and when he squeezes your thigh you think you’re going to pass out. 

You’re friendly. But you’ve never been touchy. At least not like this. The placement of his palm is very intimate and you are struggling not to just get on your knees and profess your undying love. You take in a deep breath, looking up at him so you can get your heartbeat under control. 

But looking at him just makes it worse. Because there is so much faith and fondness in his gaze as he looks at you. His lips are tilted up, eyes soft, and you’ve never had someone make you feel so warm and secure from just a look. 

“You aren’t useless,” he tells you. He squeezes your thigh again before he retreats back to his chair. You have to clamp your jaw shut so you don’t beg him to keep touching you and never stop. “You’re just stuck in this house all day. You’ve got nothing to do but sit in your failure.”

You scoff and throw yourself back in your seat. “Don’t remind me. I’ve begged Charles to let me out.” Your gaze drifts to the crater in the backyard. Some of the kids have been working on filling it in, but whatever energy you’d let go of has left a permanent mark. “He refuses to give me permission.”

Logan laughs, the noise teasing and a little mean. Your brows furrow and you glance over at him with a questioning look. He tilts his head in disbelief like you’re an idiot. “Seriously, Flux? Just fuckin’ leave, who gives a shit?”

“Uh,” you think on it for a minute before weakly settling on, “Charles?”

His face falls and you sink lower into your seat. He looks out at the yard, gaze distant. His jaw clenches a few times before he puts the cigar out on the ashtray beside him. He gets to his feet and you think he might just leave. Instead, he turns towards you. 

You’re caught off guard by the little smirk on his face. “Wanna have some fun?”

Only an idiot would say no. 

You grin and place your hand in his, yelping slightly at how easily he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his chest and are hesitant to back away when his hand drifts to rest on your waist. He looks down at you, smiling, he squeezes your waist once before he backs up. 

“Come on, kid.” He tugs you inside the house, leading you downstairs to the garage. You already know what he’s going for before the door is even open. 

“Didn’t Scott tell you to leave his bike alone?” Logan takes a step inside. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at you. It makes your breath catch in your throat, the happiness on his face. You never see him like this around the others. 

You hate thinking like that. Placing too much importance on your relationship with him will only lead to heartbreak down the road. But, you never see him act the way he does with you with anyone else.

“Since when have I ever listened to Cyclops, sweetheart?” 

“Good point,” you mutter, moving to stand next to him. 

He straddles the seat and looks over expectantly at you. “Don’t you need a helmet?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no, it’ll ruin my hair.” You laugh but he gives you a deadpan look. You don’t regenerate the way he does. An accident would be a lot more fatal for you than it would be for him. You huff, “Relax, Lo, I can use my powers.” When he looks like he’s not going to drop it, you let some energy swirl around your fingers. It solidifies the air around your skin, you reach up and flick at his skull hard enough to hear the metal ding. 

He grunts, glaring down at your hand while you grin. “See,” you whisper, sliding onto the back of the bike and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m perfectly safe.” He shakes his head and starts the bike. 

The ride to the arcade is spent in silence. Logan always seems to break every speeding law known to man whenever he takes Scott’s bike out. You’re not sure if he does it to purposefully piss the man off, but it makes you cling to him like a wild animal. You feel like if you hit one speed bump you’re going to go flying. 

By the time he parks your legs feel like jello. He laughs a little at the way your face has blanched. Again, he offers you a hand and holds the door open to lead you inside. You’re trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this whole thing is odd. 

You guys are friends. And you’re friendlier with each other than most of the mutants in the school. But this feels different somehow. For one, Logan kind of despises the arcade. It’s an amalgamation of bad smells and loud noises, and it overwhelms his already sensitive senses. You’ve heard him complain about the smell of body odor and fake cheese enough times when you went on a field trip with the kids. 

Secondly, he’s being more touchy than he normally would. You’re not complaining. You weren’t exactly hugged a lot as a kid, mainly just passed between different mutant fetish clubs. Logan isn’t known for handing hugs out so easily. But right now, he doesn’t seem to be ready to not have at least one hand on you. 

Maybe he’s just cheering you up. You need to stop drifting so far into your mind and just enjoy the night. “Alright, what’s first bub?”

You grin and drag him towards the claw machine. “I’m horrible at these things,” you inform him as you put your quarters in. “But, I hold out hope that one day I’ll be able to actually beat this monster.”

Three failed attempts later, it’s become embarrassingly clear that you will never beat the claw machine. Logan isn’t even trying to hide his amusement as you become increasingly more frustrated. There’s a certain point where this game stops being fun and starts to be an affront to your character. 

Logan peers into the machine and asks, “What are you going for?”

“The pigeon,” you mutter. Your tongue pokes between your lips, and your eyes narrow in concentration. You aim the claw over the pigeon perfectly and slam your hand down on the big red button. 

You’re allowed five seconds of celebration before the damn thing slips out of the claws grasp and tumbles into the pile of stuffies below. “Dammit, Bart,” you let the ridiculous name you’ve come up with for the toy slip.

Logan snorts, leaning against the glass while you jam another quarter in the slot. “Bart?” He teases. 

You shake your head and give him a look out the side of your eye. “What, you think I call myself Flux because I’m good at coming up with names?” You give up after the last failed attempt and turn to face him with a huff. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Tough luck, kid.” He slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you towards the concession stand. 

“Shut up,” you laugh, slapping lightly at his chest. 

The rest of the night is nice. He doesn’t play much except for the strength-oriented games. And then you kind of just exploit him for more tickets. By the time you get back to the mansion, you’ve forgotten all about why you were upset in the first place. 

Nothing had gone wrong, you didn’t have a total meltdown and wipe out the entire arcade. You don’t know why Charles was so afraid of letting you out. 

Logan walks you back to your room, his hand heavy on your lower back as you head up the stairs. You’re talking endlessly, filling up any gap of silence with rambling you’ve lost track of. You don’t know what it is about him that invites you to yap the way you do, but you’re always embarrassed by it the second he leaves. 

You reach your door and smile up at him. “Thanks, Lo.”

He gives you a soft smile, his eyes wrinkling endearingly at the corners. He reaches up and brushes some hair off your shoulder. There’s a certain shift in his expression that has your breath stopping short. Whatever else you were going to say to him tumbles off into an incomprehensible whisper. 

He leans down and every inappropriate thought you’ve ever had about him suddenly surges to the front of your mind. Your lips part in anticipation, thinking he’s going to kiss you and your fantasies are going to come to life. 

His lips brush against your cheek so gently you almost don’t feel them. “‘Night Flux,” he leans back and your body goes with him. He backs off with a smile, walking down the hall to his own room. You feel dazed, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as you fan your cheeks and try to come to terms with what just happened.

He didn’t kiss you, but you oddly aren’t disappointed. You go to bed that night with a lovesick grin on your face. Well, you would have. Were it not for the annoyingly British voice ringing out in your head, “Training’s at four tomorrow morning. Consider it your punishment for sneaking out.”

“Fuck,” you hiss to yourself. Stupid fucking telepaths. 

You thought the arcade was a one-off moment. But Logan keeps sneaking you out of the mansion. Charles hasn’t officially lifted the house arrest, but he’s given up trying to keep you inside. Besides, you’ve essentially got a chaperone since Logan is always with you. 

You make lunch for the two of you and he’ll take you out to the woods for a picnic. Or you’ll go to the movies together. Sometimes you don’t even do anything, just linger around each other. You enjoy the company, and you love having these quiet moments together with no one else around. 

Your favorite part of all of this has to be the way he’s started touching you. He’s always got a hand on your leg or back. And if he can’t do that, then you’re tucked into his side. It’s feeding into a starved part of you that you’ve left neglected for far too long. 

It’s only been about two weeks of these fun little adventures and odd behavior. You’re dreading the moment they’ll stop. You’re not sure when Logan’s going to deem you properly cheered up, but you’re hoping it’s not anytime soon. 

There have been a few more moments where you think your friendship might turn into something more, and every time you’ve been interrupted. You’re actually starting to feel a little edged. You’ve been considering just grabbing him and planting one on him. But every time you think about it you get sick to your stomach. 

You don’t want to make a move on him and end up getting rejected. You know he’s just being a good friend and taking care of you so you don’t end up spiraling too far in your head. It’s happened before, when you’ve been struggling with your abilities. He’s just keeping you from shutting down again and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable because you’re hopelessly in love. 

When you walk out of your room this morning you’re immediately smacked in the face. “What the fuck, guys?” You yell at the two kids running past your room. Not the best language for someone who's supposed to be a role model. You can’t be bothered though, not when they’re running around throwing pink rolls of streamer at your face. 

“Sorry!” Mary calls over her shoulder, laughing as she pins a heart up onto the wall. You’re sure Charles won’t appreciate the hole in his old ass mahogany wood. It’s only as you watch her run down the stairs that you register just what is going on. 

There is pink and red everywhere. It looks like Dollar Store Cupid has thrown up all over the mansion. You’ve been so caught up in your attraction to Logan that, ironically, you’ve forgotten what month it was. 

You grumble bitterly to yourself as you trudge down the stairs. Another Valentine’s Day alone and single. How lovely. You spot two kids giggling to themselves by the banister, they lean in like they’re going to kiss and you gag. “Hey!” You snap, and they jump apart, eyes wide with fear. “Quit it, get out of here.” They scramble off and you feel just a little bit vindicated. 

“Not a fan of young love, Flux?”

You groan and roll your eyes, turning around to find a very smug Scott watching you bully teenagers. “Shut it, Summers,” you warn. You point an accusing finger at him and he raises his hands in surrender. Faux innocence played across his insufferable smirk. “When you’re in a committed relationship, you don’t get to judge me.”

His brows turn down in confusion, “Wait, but aren’t you and Logan-”

He’s cut off by the sound of a loud crash down the hall. You both turn around just as one of the classroom doors slams open. A bright pink explosion hurtles from the doors and a throng of coughing students follows. 

Jubilee walks out a minute later, a guilty expression on her face. “Sorry, I was just trying to make it more Vanetine-y.” 

You glance over at Scott, grinning widely at him while you pat his shoulder and walk past him, leaving him to clean up the mess. “Enjoy the young love, Summers.”

You actively avoid Logan all day. You’re already facing constant reminders of how lonely you are. You see kids walking around with baskets of bears and chocolates. Or you catch them passing notes in class with scribbled hearts all over the front. 

There’s only so much a girl can take before she loses it. The last thing you need is to be faced with the man you have the worst unrequited crush on in history. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint. He’s everywhere you go, popping up around corners and trying to catch your attention. 

You keep brushing him off and pretending like you have something urgent you’re going to be late for. Eventually, though, he was going to catch up with you. 

It happens in the kitchen. Most of the kids are in their rooms or the library. The noise has died down and you’re alone. You grumble to yourself, ripping down a pink streamer that keeps drifting across the top of your head and pissing you off. You grab a frozen meal from the fridge and are about to microwave it when he speaks. 

“Huh, thought you’d want something a little more romantic than a frozen burrito.” 

You gasp, clutching your chest and whirling around on him while your heart races. “Logan, Jesus, you scared me.” He’s frowning at you, eyes glaring at the frozen package in your hand. “Um,” you toss it back in the freezer but the look on his face isn’t going away. “Yeah, I might just go with cereal instead.”

He looks at you and then glances behind him. You peer around his shoulder but you don’t see anything. Without much warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the stairs. “Logan?” There’s no point in trying to resist him, he could just toss you up the stairs if he wanted to. Still, the silence is kind of creeping you out. 

You call his name a few more times but give up when he makes it clear he’s not going to be answering you anytime. There’s a rotten feeling in your stomach. You have this awful idea like you’re in trouble for something. Like a little girl who's gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar too many times. 

He stops you in front of his door and nods towards it. “You want me to go inside?” He crosses his arms and glares down at you. You huff and mutter, “Jesus, fine.” What the hell is wrong with him?

You grab the doorknob to his room, glaring at him while you do. You throw the door open dramatically, taking a step inside and surveying the area. “Wow,” you suck your teeth and shake your head. “You have not decorated at all.”

“Shut up, smartass,” he mutters in your ear. Chills prick at your skin from his proximity. A shudder goes down your spine as the low tone of his voice reverberates through you. “Look a little harder.”

You roll your eyes but acquiesce. Another run over the room finally shows you what you missed. You gasp and rush towards his bed, “Holy shit, Bart!” He chuckles behind you as you pick the stuffed pigeon up. 

“Went back for him after we left,” Logan tells you. 

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How many tries did this take you?” He mouths a smug one and you roll your eyes in irritation. You look back down at the pigeon and smile.

He smells like the inside of a claw machine. His head is sewed on crookedly and you’re pretty sure he’s missing an eye. But he’s absolutely perfect to you. You’re about to thank Logan when you spot something metal wrapped around the stuffie’s neck. “What’s this,” you mumble to yourself. 

You slide your fingers under the chain and tug it off Bart’s neck. Logan’s dog tags dangle off your fingers and you stare at him in shock. A sudden cold dread washes over you and you find yourself immobile. “Logan,” you trail off, an unspoken question following his name. 

He smirks, walking towards you and slipping the tags out of your hand. “I wanted you to have this,” he says, his voice low like this moment is too precious to break, “so you know you’re not alone. You’re always so afraid of what’s going to happen if you lose control out in the field. But you forget, you’re not alone. You have me, you’re always going to have me.” He places the tags over your neck, untucking your hair from the chain. 

You don’t even have words for him. It’s such a deeply personal gift. But this also feels incredibly intimate. There’s no possible way for you to reason this away. This isn’t something “just friends” do. 

He seems to prefer your silence, anyway. One of his hands drifts from your neck and cups your jaw. With the utmost tenderness, he lifts your face to his. “Wanted to do this for a while,” he whispers. You almost ask what he’s talking about, but his lips are already covering yours. 

It’s incredibly soft, this kiss, softer than you’re used to. He’s barely putting any pressure on you and it makes you realize that you’re still not moving. You’re just standing there in shock, eyes wide open while the man you’ve wanted since you’ve known him kisses you. 

You drop Bart to the floor and your arms come up to twine around his neck. You finally close your eyes, let your body melt into his knowing he’ll catch you. The second you reciprocate he really kisses you. Neither of you hold back, each of you pouring all the pent-up desire you’ve felt for each other. 

You’ve spent so long dancing around this, around each other. It’s like a missing puzzle piece is returned to you as Logan holds you. You feel full, complete, warmer than you ever have before. 

You part from him - needing air - painfully slow. You don’t want to spend a second away from him now that you have him. You wish you didn’t have to breathe. Wished you could have kept kissing him and never stopped. 

Logan chuckles, pressing a kiss against your forehead like he can read your thoughts. You can feel the dorky smile that’s about to split your cheeks. You bite your lip, hoping it might suppress it, but you know it’s pointless. 

You look up at him with a cheeky twinkle in your eye. “Are you asking me to be your Valentine, Lo?”

He scoffs and pulls away from you slightly. “Do you have to ask your girlfriend to be your Valentine?”

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens and closes rapidly. “I- Well- I mean,” you take a full step back from him and shake your head. “What?” You finally settle on. “I mean, I’m not objecting, at all, but what?”

Logan tilts his head, a disbelieving look on his face. “What do you think we’ve been doing the past three weeks?”

You shake your head, stuttering and struggling for an answer. “I don’t know. I thought you were being a good friend!”

He smiles, there’s no irritation on his face at your cluelessness. If anything he seems to be more endeared to you. “You think I take all my friends on romantic picnics in the woods?”

You sigh, letting out a long disappointed breath. You can’t believe you’ve been so blind. When you think about it, his behavior lately makes a lot more sense. You’re not sure how you were able to trick yourself for so long. 

“Well,” you start, walking back towards him as he pulls you into a hug, “certainly not Scott.” He huffs and shakes his head. You give him a sheepish smile, brows knitted together. “I can’t believe we’ve been dating this whole time.”

He just presses another kiss to your temple and shrugs. “It’s alright, sweetheart, you can make it up to me by being my Valentine again next year.”

There’s something unspoken in his voice. A promise that he’s planning to be around for a lot longer than a year. You smile at him, silently promising the same. “Only if you’re mine.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a/n: i’m gonna gag actually. Made myself cringe there at the end. I want a valentine next year so bad, it’s sad. But what’s the point of a valentine if it’s not going to be Logan?

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[eufezco]

LIKE THE FIRST TIME

it has been a long time since you and logan had sex. you should show him that despite everything he hated about himself, you still craved him.

logan x afab!reader (smut, angst) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!). gif credit to @/asgardswinter

it was a shitty place where you were living with logan. it was always dirty, no matter how many times you cleaned it, it was noisy, because despite being in the middle of nowhere, the train tracks were very close to it, and it was the least home-like thing in the world. both of you were working your asses off to get out of there as soon as possible.

in your free time, you helped caliban with the housework and took care of old charles xavier while logan spent the whole day out, driving and having to deal with one of the things he hated most in the world, people.

he always came home late, tired, with his whole body aching. some nights you would fall asleep while waiting for him and even though logan asked you to do it, to not to wait up for him, most times you stayed up so just to make sure he arrived safely. you waited for him curled up in bed. when he was a minute late, your heart began to beat faster and you imagined the worst. but then he would come into the room, dragging his feet and with his head bowed down.

—how was your day?

logan grunted as he sat at the foot of your bed, you felt how the mattress sagged with his weight.

—did something happen?

you crawled to him and rested your chin on his shoulder. he let out a sigh of relief when your arms wrapped around his body and you hugged him from the back.

—just a tired fuckin' day, that's all.

you hummed, understanding. —well, now you are home so you can finally relax. would you like something to eat?

logan shook his head as he let it fall back and rest on your shoulder. he just wanted to stay like that a little longer with his body between your legs and his eyes closed. he placed one of his hands over yours resting on his stomach as you hugged him. one of his big hands was enough to cover both of yours.

—i've missed you, lo. i always miss you when you are away.

you placed a kiss on his neck. the first thing he did when he entered the house was to get rid of his shirt, keeping only the white tank top he was wearing underneath. his broad shoulders were at your disposal, his muscular arms and warm skin as well.

logan swallowed when he felt your lips on his neck. you noticed so you placed another kiss there.

—i miss you too. every second i spend away from you, i miss you.

you hummed, your heart gave a small jump of joy. while your love language was words of affirmation and you were always reminding him how much he was loved by you, logan was more of an act of service man. removing makeup from your face when you got home and were too tired to do it yourself, washing your hair and massaging your head when you showered, and leaving your coffee ready when he went to work earlier than you. hearing those words come out of logan's mouth meant the whole world.

your hands traveled down his abdomen until they reached the hem of his tshirt and easily slipped under the fabric. you felt his perfect abs under your fingertips and the hairs growing below his belly button as well. he took a deep breath, it had been so long since the last time he had allowed you to touch him like that.

you took your hands out of his tshirt and moved one of them to his neck to make logan turn his head resting on your shoulder and look at you. you connected your lips with his, his bushy beard pricked your face as you kissed him, but you didn't mind, it had been so long since you and logan had kissed so passionately that you could take it.

your tongue slipped past his lips and logan moaned, allowing his to go inside your mouth as well. you moved on the bed, putting one leg on each side of logan's body and sitting on his lap, all this without stopping kissing for a second. his hands now rested on your lower back, yours were on the back of his head to deepen the kiss.

his cock got rock hard the moment you sat on his thighs and you started to roll your hips timidly against his crotch. you felt his growing bulge rubbing against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear. god, how bad you needed to feel him.

your hands slid down from his neck, caressing his entire torso, until they reached again the hem of his tshirt. you tried to pull the white tank top over his head, but logan stopped you. his lips parted from yours and he shook his head.

—it's okay. i want you, logan. i promise everything is fine.

you held his cheeks so he would look you in the eyes.

he was getting old, there was nothing left of the young and charming boy you met at charles' academy. his body had changed, his hair and beard were becoming whiter every day, and you were still young and full of light while he was fading away. yet you still loved and desired him, like the first day you craved his body. you found him just as hot, even hotter now, but you didn't want to force him to do something he wasn't going to enjoy.

you kissed him so he could stop worrying. —let me take care of you. i want you, lo, i need to feel you —.you mumbled against his lips. he let out a grunt when he felt you pressing your pussy harder on his bulge.

your hands traveled the same path down his chest one more time until you reached the edge of his tshirt again. you expected him to take your hands off him again but he not only allowed you to keep going but he also lifted his arms so you could pull the white tank top over his head.

—fuck —. you let out in a mix of moan and gasp. his body was breathtaking. your hands were quickly attached to his chest, hairy, hard under your touch, warm, with each of its muscles perfectly defined. abs, pecs, perfect broad and muscular shoulders, and wide strong arms, with veins running from his shoulder down his arms to the back of his hands. you ran your fingers along the thick scars that marked his body. —fuck, you're so hot.

with his hands on your back, logan gently pushed you to keep rubbing yourself against him and you moaned, he was harder if possible and you were so wet that you knew that your panties would be completely soaked. you kissed the crook of his neck while his fists clenched, clutching at the tshirt of his that you were wearing as your pajamas. logan fought against his instinct, against the animalistic way you were making him feel, but his grip became so tight that he ended up ripping the fabric.

—it was one of your favorite tshirts.

—don't care.

and logan kissed your lips as he ended up tearing the fabric completely and threw it on the floor. you grabbed the back of his head when his lips moved down your neck and collarbone. your nipples were already painfully hard when logan cupped one of your tits and wrapped his mouth around your sensitive bud.

all of a sudden you got up from his lap and he had to let your nipple go. he was worried about the way you had moved away from him, had he done something wrong?

now you were standing in the middle of the room, in front of him, only wearing your panties. your body was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever witnessed, with scars very similar to his, with all those things you hated about yourself. was that how you felt about him? if it had not been for the pain in his whole body he would have fallen off the bed on his knees in front of you.

he huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes once you started swaying your hips from side to side while you slid your underwear down your legs. you laughed too, you felt stupid, but at least you had managed to make him smile. you two weren't the type to do those things, things were always more animalistic, more passionate, rougher. you walked towards him and leaned in to kiss him as your hands worked on the zipper of his jeans.

—you're beautiful —. he whispered.

logan helped you to straddle him again. you held your body over his thanks to your knees on the bed. with one hand you grabbed his hard cock resting impatiently against his stomach. he gasped because of your firm grip and squeezed your hips when you lined it up against your aching entrance.

you lowered yourself just enough for his tip to go in. he let out a deep grunt straight from his chest, you let out all the air you had in your lungs in a moan. you never forgot how big he was, the thickness of his cock, the patch of hair on its base, and the veins running along his shaft, but you did forget about the way it stretched you open, about the sting that his dick going deeper inside you caused.

—careful —. logan mumbled against your lips.

you kept taking him, closing your eyes shut and biting your lower lip, hissing every time you took a centimeter more inside of you. you rested your forehead against his and whined when his cock finally bottomed you. —i need a moment.

logan nodded. one of your hands sneaked in between your bodies and found your clit while his hands lovingly caressed your back. it had been so long since you had sex. logan wouldn't let you touch him, he was disgusted by his own body and he was afraid that you would see him the way he saw himself. that's why that night you decided that you would make him feel so good that he would never doubt the way you felt about him or his body.

you started by slowly rolling your hips as your fingers worked on your clit. his jaw tightened while he felt your body moving with his whole cock inside. his big hands on your hips helped you to move, setting a pace and keeping you from going faster so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

—that's it, take your time —. he said. young logan wouldn't have given you a second to get used to it, he would have fucked you mercilessly and you would have loved every second of it. but now, his eyes were focused on where your bodies became one, enjoying how your pussy adjusted to his size thanks to your fingers rubbing your clit.

he moaned once you lifted your body just a little and then dropped back onto him. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips while you repeated that same move again and again. your cries and his moans mixed in your mouths. all his body jerked every time you lifted yourself a bit more and then sucked his cock completely inside you again.

—you make me feel so good, logan. always have, fuck—. you purred in his ear. his hands, previously resting on your hips, slid all the way to your ass your hands and squeezed it. in those little details you could see how he was gaining confidence, which encouraged you to keep moving without changing your pace. it was slow, passionate, intense and intimate.

between moans and cries, you kept worshiping him, telling him how much you had missed feeling him inside you, how your fingers were no comparison to his cock, how you didn't want to share these moments with anyone other than him. there was no one like him. you didn't care about his scars, his moodiness, the gray of his hair, there would never be another one for you but logan, you did not want another one.

you were close, he could feel it in the way your walls were squeezing his cock and he knew he wouldn't last longer. logan wrapped his arms around your body, pressing you against his hard chest, and your fingers knotted into his hair. he groaned, your little jumps became irregular, your legs began to shake. logan hugged you tighter and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, getting a little choked cry from you.

—cum inside me, lo. fill me up, please, i need it. let me have it, please.

oh god, your words were driving him insane and after how well you had treated him, who was he to deny your wishes?

logan held your body down on his cock as he came, hugging you tighter against him. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, moaning into his skin while your legs shook and your pussy clenched around him. it was too much. as he released himself inside you, his claws came out and trapped you between them and logan's body, you had no escape. he groaned when he felt the pain of the adamantium ripping the skin off his knuckles mixed with all the pleasure of cumming inside you.

—shit —. he immediately put the claws away when he realized. —i haven't hurt you, have i?

you shook your head, still coming down from your high. he exhaled with relief. once you had caught your breath, you straightened your back, still sitting on his lap and feeling his cock getting soft inside you. you brought his hands to the front.

—are you okay? that probably hurt —. you caressed his knuckles.

—felt too good to even think about it.

you smiled proudly and kissed him. when you broke away, he noticed the mark of his teeth on the skin of your shoulder. —'m so sorry, fuck.

—don't be. i wish you had bitten me harder.

he shook his head, keeping himself from laughing. —you're a freak.

[kachulein]

I'm proud of myself for being able to make it all the way home and wait until I was in my room to start sobbing🤧

[2024skin]

it's so annoying to me that my parents don't put any effort into training our puppy but I still have to share responsibility for cleaning up all the shit and piss he leaves around the house

[pellucid-constellations]

Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell... reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: ~950

Warnings: Nothing yet, maybe just a little angst

a/n: Okay I know this is a drabble but this is definitely getting more parts like I am attached to this storyline now and LOVE that you requested it 🤗

Read part two here

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You leaned against a pillar just outside the school, a twitch creeping up your hands until your fingers spasmed. You shoved them under the bend of your elbows, crossing your arms and biting into your lip. 

She was fine. 

She was more than fine—Velaris was safe. 

Anything would have been safer than facing your father’s wrath back in Autumn, but you had gotten extremely lucky with the timing of your escape. Falling pregnant with your daughter had not been in the cards, especially not after a single night of rebellion, but with Velaris’s doors opening up just days after your healer broke the news, something seemed to be written in the stars. 

But every day was still a gamble; your father could find you at any time. 

The past five years had been a miracle, if you were being honest. 

School was supposed to end two minutes ago. 

Your foot began to shake, popping your knee up and down and making your body vibrate with the anxiety that consumed you. 

You shouldn’t have let her go to school. 

Melanie only had a few friends—neighbor kids whose parents you had vetted extensively—but that had been enough for her to get the idea into her head. You had planned on homeschooling her, or at least waiting until she was a few years older before letting her out into the world. Unfortunately, that had not been Melanie’s plan, and Melanie had so many wonderful plans. As most five-year-olds did. 

Gods, what if—

“First day?” a rumbling voice made you pause your nervous fidgeting. The man spoke again. “If you’re worried, don’t be. The teacher is great. Just forgetful when it comes to time. They are typically a few minutes late every day.” 

You swallowed and turned around despite every voice in your head telling you not to. But those voices in your head were completely and utterly wrong about a multitude of things. Behind you, you found a man—an Illyrian—with wings an ungodly size and shadows swirling down his legs and onto a uniform pool along the ground. And he was gorgeous—unabashedly gorgeous in the most devastating way. 

You looked up from your blatant investigation of him, meeting his eye and stuttering out, “Oh. That’s… that’s good to know. Thank you.” 

If he noticed your stutter, he didn’t make any sign of it. Instead, the man with the wings and the shadows blinked several times, furrowed his brows, and took a step back as if to steady himself. Perhaps, if you weren’t a bundle of unreasonable nervous energy, you would have found his actions strange, but you were. So you simply offered him a superficial, airy laugh and uncrossed your arms. 

“I—” the man began, but he seemed to lose his train of thought, a heat traveling up his cheeks in a way that looked foreign. “I’m Azriel.” 

Oh, wonderful. Introductions. 

You tried your hardest to stay very far away from very many people. It was the best way to keep yourself hidden. You couldn’t avoid the neighbors, and you supposed you couldn’t avoid fae like Melanie’s teacher, but this was different. 

Shit. 

You offered your name, anyway, afraid of appearing too outlandish in an otherwise casual setting. 

It would be fine. 

This was fine. 

Azriel repeated it in a breathless way, but then the school bell rang and something seemed to click in his brain. The small smile that had curled up the corner of his mouth became hard and he shot his eyes quickly one way and then the other, inspecting your surroundings. 

Maybe this wasn’t fine. 

“Are you a new mom in the area?” Azriel asked. 

All of your nerves shifted to guarded unease. “I am,” you offered, not caring if it was almost a lie. 

“The moms here don’t usually do the pick ups alone.” 

“You’re doing a pick up alone, it seems.” 

“I’m picking up my nephew,” Azriel explained, relaxing his posture, making himself smaller, seemingly gauging the building tension. “I didn’t mean to come across—I just asked because the mothers here typically have help. From their mates or partners. From the father.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, your next words tumbling out before you could catch them. “Well, I’m alone.” 

Double shit. 

Azriel seemed to let out a breath, his shadows whipping around along the ground. 

You braced yourself for further questioning, for the judgments that would surely follow, but then you were attacked from behind by a pair of arms wrapping around your knees. You turned quickly, scooping your daughter into a hug and promptly dismissing any further conversation with the stranger. 

“Hi, Mel,” you smiled, tucking her hair back as you subtly looked her over. “How was school? Did you like it?” 

“I loved it!” she excitedly replied. She rambled on a bit more after that, retelling her day by the minute. 

You felt eyes on you the entire time. A small boy had run and jumped into Azriel’s arms in your peripheral, but even as the boy talked and talked just as Melanie did, you felt the occasional glance your way. And some of Azriel’s shadows had to be reigned in multiple times, the small wisps licking at your ankles. 

The teacher suddenly spoke up and you were eavesdropping, straining your ears to listen in on her greeting towards the Illyrian.

“Oh, Azriel, lovely to see you. We were hoping the High Lady would be picking Nyx up, but this is even better. There is a showcase in a few weeks that—” 

You felt your world freeze. 

High Lady. 

You had been speaking to someone in close relation to the Night Court. You let someone know your name, told them you were alone with a child, and they had direct access to the High Lord and Lady. 

You whisked Melanie into your arms despite her protests and beelined it home. 

Shit. 

part two

[imwritingthefout]

after session hangout

basically you fall in love with the dm of your campaign in college: Ford pines, smut ensues

This is crossposted to ao3 so if you wanna go read it there, here’s the link:

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Waking up each day to the same old ceiling was starting to bore you. 

Ever since moving out of your parents house for college you felt like a stranger in the dorm you now called ‘home’, and It didn't help that you refused to decorate it. 

Getting out of your plain old bed, you stand up and push away the blinds with a tug, the light from the early morning sun blinding you temporarily. You glance down at your clock; 6:30am, thursday. The time isn't the part that excites you though, it's the day. Today is the day you look forward to all week: Dd&md day! 

You go to get ready for your morning class, excited for what the future of today may hold. You love dd&md, its been your favourite game since you were a child -even though you had no one to play it with back then, you got creative (no goat was harmed in your past attempts at playing the game).

Your classes went by in a blur. Of course you were taking notes and whatnot, it was important to pay attention! But in secret, you were drawing your character all over the side of your notebook and thinking of strategies on how to defeat the next dungeon your dm set up for you.

And then there was your dm. 

One of the many reasons you adored thursdays was because you got to play dd&md of course, but other than that there was another big reason you liked thursdays.

To put it plainly: your dm, Stanford Pines was Hot. like, capital H Hot. you couldn't get over his warm brown eyes that sparkled with passion whenever he detailed the characters he was playing. His hands that moved with his every word, adding to the description of the imaginary world he was building. God you wanted to feel those hands on you. What would they feel like, intertwined with your own, on your hips while he-

You decided to stop that train of thought. As much as you liked him, you also respected him enough to know that he would probably never feel that way towards you, and you shouldn't fantasise about him like that (even though it was hard not to).

And though he was Hot, that wasn't the only reason you liked him. You liked him because he was smart, compassionate, funny and so very cute.

What can you say? You had a thing for nerds.

As your last class of the day finished finished up, you quickly packed up your things and rushed to the old building next to the dorms that housed your favourite room in the whole campus: the old meeting room you guys used to house your dd&md sessions! 

The room wasn't glorious, it was just an old meeting room that's been out of use for years. But to you, that room was the home of your imagination. It held a special place in your heart, and you were sure it was the same for the rest of your party.

Speaking of which, you saw Fiddleford approach you down the old hallway, little puffs of dust kicking up with each of his steps. “Hey Fidds! You ready for today’s session?” you yelled to him slightly as he approached. “Ready as I'll ever be! You won't believe what I have planned in order to kick that sorcerer's butt!” he gave your shoulder a weak punch and opened the door with his key.

Usually, the old building was out of commission. But since Fiddleford knew a guy who works as campus security and convinced him to give him the key, you had full access to the building to do whatever you pleased. Of course for you, anything just means playing dd&md, not causing a mess and cleaning up after yourselves as much as possible in order to not inconvenience anyone. You knew that other people your age would throw huge parties and wreck the place, but you weren't that kind of person, really. You just liked having a quiet place to play your games and hang out with your friends. Fiddleford was like that too, that's how he got the key in the first place; because his friend trusted him not to mess up the place.

As you walked inside, you saw the table set out just how you guys left it last week: the long rectangular table set up in the middle of the room, with seven chairs set out all around the table, one for each player and one for your dm. A whiteboard behind the dm’s seat that shows the map of the fantasy world you are currently in the middle of exploring, and cork board on another wall with a bunch of graph paper pinned to it.

You walk around the table, taking your regular seat across from Fiddleford. “So what do you think Ford's planning for this session?” you ask Fidds. This is your usual routine: get to the building early, wait for Fidds and ask him if he has any intel for the session since his roommate is Ford. “like usual, i can’t tell you, it'll ruin the fun!” Fidds exclaimed, although the grin on his face told you he likes this familiar back and forth. 

You eased into a casual conversation from there, talking about your days as you waited for everyone else. You liked coming early because then you had more time to talk with Fidds and, of course, with Ford.

You met Fidds on the first day of the semester, when you sat next to each other in the freshman orientation presentation, and hit it off from there. you became friends rather quickly, bonding over the fact that you were both far away from home with no friends in town. You decided to help him move into his dorm after the presentation, and that's when you met Ford.

At first, you were a bit speechless at the guy in front of you. His outfit was the usual scholar's outfit of a white button up shirt with a brown vest on top, but then he was wearing jeans in order to look more ‘casual’ as he put it. His hair was neat and tidy and his glasses framed his face perfectly, at least in your opinion. You introduced yourself awkwardly, and once he introduced himself as Stanford Pines, a parapsychology major with aspirations for 12 phd’s in the next five years, you knew you were in over your head. You can't have a crush on a super-genius! What if he turns out to be an arrogant asshole? But you couldn't help developing feelings for him as you got closer. He wasn't just a super-genius, he was also kind and compassionate, understanding and just a good friend. That's when you decided to just stay friends with Ford, you couldn't afford to lose such a good friend.

Speaking of which, the man himself comes into the room, holding a stack of books detailing the rules and monsters of dd&md, a satin sack full of dice and his dm screen. You can barely see his face behind all of the things he's carrying, and immediately you jump up to help him carry everything. He silently thanks you for the help and starts setting his stuff up while you go back to your seat. “Hey guys, how've you been since last week?” Ford asks you two. “Oh i've been well, you know. Dealing with you every day can be challenging but I manage somehow” Fidds says dramatically and you stifle a giggle. Ford gives Fidds a death glare before turning to you “and how are you?” he asks with a smile that makes your knees weak. “I'm good!” you proclaim a little too loudly and cough to hide your blush “yes i'm good, just the usual classes and such” you say in a normal voice (or at least what you hope is a normal voice, it doesn't help that Fidds looks at you cheekily, already knowing your secret crush on his roomate) “how have you been?” you ask him. 

“Just the usual: doing homework, studying and building up today’s session” you catch on to the last part as a potential way to continue the conversation. “Well, what do you have planned for today?”. “Oh come on now, it wouldn't be fun to just spoil the game for you, would it?” he says and points to you to emphasise his point. “You can't even give us an outline? Something?” you pout a little and Ford gives in “fine… I may have something up my sleeve for today, and I can guarantee you won't see it coming this time! That's all I'm going to say for now though” he jabs his finger at you, trying to seem angry that you caught onto his plans last time, but his little smile gives him away. 

Soon your other party members start filing in and you all start the session. 

It goes as usual, you all mess around for a bit before getting serious. You can confidently say you saw the twist Ford put in this session coming, it was obvious how the wizard was actually a party member’s son, they had so many similarities! After another successful session, everyone leaves for their respective houses, leaving you, Fidds and Ford alone in the room to clean up.

“I can't believe you saw that coming again! I swear you're like a sorcerer in real life” Ford chuckles and Fidds adds “that would also explain how you get here before me every time! I swear I ran to get here today and you still beat me here!” “well what can i say guys? I'm just magical in every way!” you strike a silly but confident pose as Ford and Fidds laugh at your antics. “Oh shoot! I promised my friend i’d go on a blind date today, could you guys lock up this time? Ford you can just give me the keys tomorrow morning if i get lucky” Fidds winks and Ford rolls his eyes “alright, we get it, you can go”. Fidds leaves the keys on the desk and almost sprints out of the room.

You and Ford clean up the mess on the desk in silence before Ford decides to break it “how do you keep predicting my twists anyways? I swear it was supposed to come out of nowhere but you're too smart” you blush a little at the compliment “thank you, i guess i’m just good at guessing twists. But you do make it kind of easy. I mean, a secret relative of someone close? It’s kind of a cliche don't you think?” he pulls at the collar of his button up shirt and you can immediately tell something is wrong.

“Yeah.. I guess it is kind of cliche, but it's what fits the character, don't you think?” he says with a guilty tone. “Ford, what's wrong? I feel like you're hiding something” you get close enough to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder “you can tell me anything, i wont judge” you add, trying to coax him into telling you what's wrong.

“Well… I guess I brought the secret relative from my own life because… well… I have a twin brother….” the sentence doesn’t completely shock you, but it is still somewhat of a surprise “why do you never mention him? Did something happen between you two?” he chuckles a bit before saying “still as perceptive as ever, huh?” you blush a bit as he continues, looking out into the middle distance in thought

“Me and my brother were really close when we were young, we would do everything together. But as time went on, we grew apart. He didn't like the fact that I wanted to go away to a fancy college, especially because he knew he couldn't follow me there. I was working on a machine to impress the college, but on the day of the showing it stopped working. My own brother sabotaged my future. We had a big falling out over it and that’s why I'm here instead….” you empathised with Ford, but you couldn't help but question some things about his story.

“I know it must have been hard to deal with the fact you lost your ticket to the college of your dreams, but do you really believe your brother would sabotage you? If he loves you, wouldn't he want to support you? Maybe it was an accident and he didn't mean to destroy your project?” Ford looks lost in thought again before replying “i… it's foolish but i never thought of it that way…” he looks at you with thankfulness in his eyes and you can't help but smile up at him “you should maybe sort this out with him? Talk to him about what actually happened and if he meant to hurt you?” 

“God you're right… Thank you! This changes everything! I'm so glad I could just kiss you!” 

….

It takes him a second to realise what he said and blush at the thought of actually kissing you. You just stare at him dumbly for a second until your brain processes what he said.

He wants to kiss you?

Well this took a turn for the better.

“Do you really mean that?” you ask him with hope in your eyes

“Well… yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t i? Look at you” he finds that it's suddenly very important you understand how much he wants to kiss you. “Wow… i- i didn't know you felt the same…” you say softly and look down. He says your name and puts his hand on your cheek and lifts up your face to meet his eyes “i like you. More than as a friend. Would you… let me kiss you?” he looks at you nervously for a moment before you close the gap between you two and kiss him yourself.

The kiss feels electrifying. As your soft lips meet his you put your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You realise he smells exactly how you thought he would; of old books and aftershave. His hands find your waist and rub gentle circles with his thumbs into your skin. You pull away after a little and touch your forehead with his “you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that” you whisper gently.

“Me too” and he goes back to kissing you, this time he takes the lead. You tighten yourself around him until your chests meet, his hands move down to your hips and he pulls you onto his lap in one swoop. You gently bite his lip as he groans into your open lips. He then moves down to kiss from your jaw to your neck, leaving the occasional love bite. You sigh at his bites until he gets to your collarbones. “Do you…. Want to do this?” he breathes the question against your skin, the feeling of him against you makes you shudder. “Yes. im sure”. He straightens up from excitement and goes back to kissing you collarbone, now more eager than ever as his hands travel past the hem of your shirt and up to your bra. Meanwhile your hands go down to feel him underneath you.

“Someone is excited” you smirk as he breaths heavily against you. 

“Very” his response falls heavy against you as he unclasps your bra (with only a little bit of a struggle) and his hands move to massage your breasts. You moan as he pinches your nipples in between his fingers. You lower your head to bite at his shoulder to stifle another moan from falling out of your lips- “No” he says and moves his shoulder to get you to stop muffling your sounds. “I want to hear you”. The thought of him wanting to hear you like this makes you blush and sends a bolt of pleasure down your spine. “Y-yes’’ 

You intend to start massaging him through his pants but he beats you to it, moving his hand down into your pants. You help him take off your pants and underwear (with a lot of struggle because of your position) and he suddenly picks you up and places you on the table. The cold desk underneath you only adds to the pleasure as he caresses your side before moving his hand down to finally touch you. 

His hand caresses your folds and feels how wet you are, and you moan from the feeling of his thick fingers on your sensitive skin. “Damn, you feel so good” he whimpers at how you feel before kissing your breasts and plunging his index finger inside you. “A-ah~” you sigh as he moves his hand so his thumb is circling your clit. 

He continues pumping his finger inside of you for a second before adding a second one and speeding up the pace. If he continues like this you wont last long. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts, he stops and goes down onto his knees, his face in front of your core. “Can I please taste you?” he asks innocently, as if his request isn't the most dirty thing you've heard him say. Thinking about it makes you even more aroused -if that's even possible at this point- and you hastily agree.

Not even a second after he sees you nod does he jump into your pussy, his tongue plunging into you and licking you from the inside. His nose bumps into your clit as he moves to taste and lick you even more. Your breath hitches and you moan loudly as he begins sucking at your clit, toying and teasing it with his tongue. “Please F-Ford” you manage to say in between moans. He groans against you and the vibrations send a wave of pleasure through you.

He suddenly brings his fingers back into you, curling them just right, hitting that spongy spot inside you that sends you over the edge. 

You briefly hear him let out a broken “Fu-uck” as your orgasm ripples through you in waves. Ford helps you ride out your high as he continues fingering you and licking at your clit. You have to push him off of you as it becomes too overstimulating

You try to pull him up to his knees, but he seems embarrassed by something. He looks up at you with his chin and nose glistening from your wetness, a guilty smile on his lips and his glasses fogged up and crooked. You then look down and notice it. A wet spot against his jeans

oh.

He got off on pleasuring you. He turned into a mess from just tasting you, feeling you on his lips and fingers. “That's the hottest thing i've ever seen” you say suddenly and lean down to kiss him passionately. He pulls away “really? You think so?” he looks at you in shock. “Yes! Now let me kiss you” you bring him up and kiss him passionately. He takes the hint, grabs at your hips and grunts. You can feel him already hardening again so you pull at his belt and pull down his pants and underwear. You softly grab him and start moving your hand up and down as he whimpers against your lips. You bring up your hand and spit onto it in order to create less friction when touching him.

“Please Ford- fuck me” you moan into his ear and he leans his head back in pleasure. “But i don't have-” you cut him off “there's some condoms in the front pocket of my bag, please” you emphasise your point by giving his cock another stroke. This seems to fuel him on to run to your bag and get the condom. He opens the packet and rolls it onto his member. He rubs his cock against your folds to collect your juices and as his head rubs against your oversensitive clit you moan. “Please put it inside” you hold onto his shoulders as he follows your request and pushes his tip in slowly.

He slowly pushes himself inside you until he's bottomed out inside you and you both groan. You move your hips experimentally and he whimpers at the feeling of you around him. He slowly starts to pull out and then thrusts back in with a moan of your name. You dig your fingers into the soft skin of his shoulders as he continues thrusting inside of you slowly. 

He continues gently until you decide to whisper in his ear something that changes his attitude completely “harder- please~”. He understands the message and suddenly picks you up and flips you around -while still inside of you- and bends you over the table. You moan at the sudden change of positions but you have no time to get used to it as he starts thrusting into you at a killer pace. He moves his hips sharply into you, with an almost mechanical pace as he pushes your chest onto the table with his broad torso. You can't help the sounds you let out each time he hits that deep spot inside of you. He grunts into your ear at each thrust and it makes your eyes water from all the pleasure.

You're suddenly pushed over the edge for the second time when he wraps his hand around your body and starts playing with you clit. You scream his name as you cum around his cock. His pace stutters a bit and he curses in your ear as he cums too for the second time.

He slowly eases you both down with some gentler thrusts and then exits out of you with a sensual pop. 

You lay down for a little while with your ass out before you gather some strength to get up. As soon as you do, your legs start to shake and Ford catches you in his arms and chuckles a bit with pride. “So…. did you like that?”  

You dead-pan him and say “no. i didn't like that. Of course I liked that you doofus!” he laughs a bit and kisses you again. “I just wanted to make sure!” he says against your lips. You giggle and pull him even closer “well, i enjoyed that a lot” you give him a small peck on the nose and then pull away to put your clothes back on. He disposes of the condom and goes to put on his pants but pauses. “I can't go out with a wet spot on my pants…. What should I do?” he looks terrified at the thought of walking around campus like that.

“Don't worry, i always carry an extra sweatshirt around in case the ac is too much in class” you laugh as he looks at you like you just saved his life “you are an angel!” he comes up to you and kisses you again before going back to putting on his pants. You hand him the sweatshirt and he ties it around his waist in order to hide the evidence of what happened.

He then comes up to you and hugs you. “You know i meant what i said, right? About liking you” you blush and then respond “i meant what i said too”

“Then can this not be a one time thing? I want to -if you’d want of course, there's no pressure if you don't want to do anything more than what happened today but-” you cut him off to spare him from rambling even more “i’d like to go on a date with you, Ford. i want to go out with you and be with you” he sighs with relief. “Great! Are you free tomorrow?” you check your calendar “yeah i should be- do you want to meet up?” 

“I would love that” he kisses your forehead before picking up your bag and the keys to the room.

You go out but as Ford locks the door, he realises something.

“Why do you have condoms in your bag?”

You immediately flush a deep red as you remember the fact that after first meeting him, your horney brain convinced you to put some condoms in your bag. ‘Just in case something happens’ you thought to yourself

“No reason” you yelp out and pull at his bicep so he continues walking and change the subject.

He chuckles at your antics but goes along with you.

He’ll just have to ask another time.

[lady-ashfade]

Our comfort

Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood x Comfort!Goddess!Reader. (Percy, Annabeth, Grover)

—£ Yes I know I haven’t finish the book but I actually couldn’t wait anymore. So, this is me with little knowledge so bare that in mind.

—£ Warnings: Book/show spoilers, Yandere! Behavior, Being bound to a place, Possessive behavior, Obsessive behavior, Manipulation, Characters fighting for the reader’s attention. Short.

You weren’t a known for too long goddess, much younger then rest of the gods. A teenager like age compared to them. It was strange to have more powerful gods look to you for comfort but you love it. As you are the goddess of comfort.

But, as the other gods started to have many demigods you saw how miserable they could get. You hated the fact they didn’t care for their children so you decided to stay at the camp for half-bloods when the time came.

The campers cling to you. You bring a comfort they never quite felt before. It was like a warm hug, like the ones they wanted from their parents.

You couldn’t leave, and at the beginning you were glad to accept that fate.

Almost always you are found surrounded by demigods and they just relax in your comfort. You are the one they go to with every worry in their mind.

Being close to Aphrodite, her seeing you as a sister and a younger child. Stories of your love for one another are still told today, as she gave ideas to the mortals of how great your relationship was. But in reality there wasn’t much to tell.

So her children have a mentality that they are your favorite and because of their mother, they have some sort of claim to you above the others. But that never works because you love the children equally.

The demigods have less nightmares with you around and watching over them.

Ares children fight often for your affection. They will constantly get into fights with others to show they deserve more time with you. Which you always scold them but it never sticks. They kiss their weapons each time to you, like a sign of good luck. Aries children are one of the worsts ones because they get aggressive at times, even with you. But the golds make them stop by punishing them, mostly their father.

Hermes children are hard to explain really. They aren’t aggressive, but they are mischievous. They take their revenge of stealing things from the other campers, pulling pranks. Or trapping some of them up and go straight to you before they can get there. Luke for instance, is always looking around for you and talking about his day. He’s either laying down next to you, or making you watch him train.

Many games of all houses take place just for you.

AnnaBeth, is constantly by your side when she has free time. She scares off people with a glare behind your back, knowing that she could put plan them. She also trains and makes you watcher her and needs your praise. Maybe, somehow you are her older sister. But, sometimes she just chills by your side not saying anything, she’s like a lost duck at times.

Grover however is actually a lost duck. You comfort him when his past missions fail and he loses kids. You are so nice to him and makes him feel special and brave. When he has to leave he keeps a coin in his pocket with your face on it and prays a lot. He’s not possessive much. He’s willing to take what he can get and is just happy to be there. But maybe if someone comes in when he’s “crying” and having you fuss over him then he’ll be a bit mad but never does anything about it.

When a new camper arrives you devote your time to them because they need it a little more. They come into a world they know nothing of, waiting for the parent they hardly know to claim them. You claim them like your own until the time comes.

So when Percy comes you feel something off with him, like he is special and in need of a lot. He lost his mom, taken from the world he knew.

Percy becomes the most possessive out of all of them.

He feels out of place but you are always there to listen to him. It doesn’t help that you follow him to make sure he’s okay. At the beginning you’re both following each other around.

“It’s okay, Percy.” You brush his hair lightly like his mother used to do. “You’ll get claim, and you’ll have glory.” And he doesn’t care if you say that to everyone because you make him feel special. 

Also, you protect the new bloods. So you’ll show up when he gets bullied and just raise one brow and they all back off. Can’t risk making you mad at them.

When Percy gets claimed he’s all alone again, no friends and the campers looking at him funny. Being one of the top threes son isn’t fun or easy. He shares a cabin all to himself.

So he starts to be the worst of them all. Raising his voice when you try and leave him and he manipulates you to stay with him. Can’t you see how alone he is?

He can’t sleep unless he knows your watching over him.

You pick no sides of the war. Your family will figure it out themselves, while you take care of their children.

[rin-may-1103]

Badger Day Au (part two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

"Fourteen?" Aquaman repeats, turning his chair to face Danny. "Fourteen what? Days, weeks, months?"

Flash hissed like he was in pain, "Please don't say it's been fourteen months!"

Danny trailed his eyes away from the ceiling, away from the bothersome crack, and toward the single window in the room. He could just barely make out the Cassiopeia constellation. Its distinct W shape winked and flickered, drawing up a memory from a few loops into this whole mess. Tucker had wanted to comfort him, seeing as Danny had just broken down crying over how frustrated he was with everything.

The Ghost of Cassiopeia. Also known as IC 63, about 550 light years away.

A giant cloud of dust and gas. A nebula. Its ethereal glow reminded people of spirits they would see in haunted houses or fields. So they called it the ghost of Cassiopeia.

But it wasn't a ghost, it's simply hydrogen that's been bombarded with ultraviolet radiation from the nearby star. A blue giant called Gamma Cassiopeiae. It's also known as the center of the constellation. The light from the blue giant makes the majority of the nebula glow a vivid red. The blue around the edges is just light reflected off the dust within.

Tucker had joked that Danny should try and see how far he could get before the loop restarted. See if he could even get past Jupiter. Danny had just snorted and brushed his suggestion off. What was the point when he should be spending his time trying to fix the loop?

About six years in, Danny had given up and tried.

Eight months he had spent flying. He got further and further out into the void, surrounded by darkness and the beautiful stars in the distance to guide him. He never managed to make it past Pluto before he was brought back.

"Years," Danny confessed, his eyes still trained on the faraway stars.

"YEARS!?!" Superman cried, standing up so fast his chair was sent flying into the wall. Danny glanced back up at the crack, watching as it grew just a little larger, plaster dust sprinkling down like freshly fallen snow.

Sighing, Danny sat up and stared at the group. How many times has he had this conversation? How many times was he going to explain what was happening? How many times was he going to wake up in his bed just to restart all over again?

"Years," Danny repeated, "Fourteen years. Like I said, I've tried everything."

They sat in silence for a moment, just digesting his situation. Batman was standing still, his fists clenched tightly. Superman looked faint like he would pass out. Flash looked devastated.

Wonder Woman leaned forward, her brows furled in confusion, "Were you cursed, young one?"

"No, I checked. You checked. Heck, even Zatanna and Constantine have checked. I'm not cursed." Danny grumbled, slumping down to rest his head on the table.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to just curl up and sleep for the next however long. Wanted to hug Jazz and cry about how unfair it all was. Wanted to curl into his mother's side and cling until she made it all better. Hide behind his father until he knew it was safe.

but he couldn't.

Something always happened when he tried. If he stayed home from the very beginning of the day, the league would call him over and over again, convinced he was needed for the case Batman had. They even sent Flash over a few times just to search the city to drag him to the meeting.

(He was happy they hadn't figured out his civilian identity yet, but man was it hard to watch as Flash stuck his face into every nook and cranny around town yelling his name. Danny's lost count of how many times the man got overshadowed.)

If he managed to convince them that he was in a loop, then they found it would be safer for him to stay up on the watchtower. where they could keep an eye on him while searching for a way to break it.

Or, if he managed to convince them he was sick or something and they left him alone, Vlad would start acting up. Jack would call him on the phone to cancel Maddie's meeting with him because Danny was 'sick'. If he convinces Maddie to go and stay home with his dad, then Jack somehow opens the portal long enough for one of his rogues to slip through.

It just never ends. Everything he's tried ends with him having to go ghost and fight. The calmest day he's managed to have ended with Box ghost blasting the portal doors open so he could give him a homemade lunch from his wife, which then led the ghost to find Jack's new weapon box and go ballistic because of his obsession.

after that, he gave up spending time with his parents and focused more on his friends and Jazz. This was equally disastrous.

so, his safest option was to go to the meeting and stay with the league.

Glancing up, Danny watched as the time slowly changed on the clock; six twenty-nine, tick, tick, tick, six thirty.

Sighing, Danny sat up and held his hand out, making eye contact with Batman. He might as well get the day going, no use in wallowing in self-pity. He's done that plenty already.

"I already figured out what the cult wanted to do, we just need to figure out where their next meeting is. I'll fill you guys in on the rest." Danny added, wiggling his fingers in the hope it would make Batman move faster.

Batman sighed and handed him the folder. Once Danny had the folder, Batman sat down to listen to his report intently.

Flipping the file open, Danny grabbed the first page and showed it to the group, ignoring how a copy showed up on the big screen behind Batman. (again, why use paper if he was just going to project it?)

"This is the result of the cult's last meeting, two weeks ago. as you can see, the ground has been scorched and the ritual circle permanently carved into the cement." Tossing the paper and ignoring it as Flash scrambled to catch it, Danny grabbed the next couple of pages.

Holding up the seventy missing person reports, Danny placed them on the table and separated them into four different piles. "After some digging, Batman was able to figure out the pattern between the missing people. This group," Danny pointed to the one on the left, "consists of organ donors who were anemic."

pointing to the pile on the right, Danny continued, "This group is made up of meta-humans who have powers related to the elements. they also all happen to have more than one piercing, though Batman didn't really figure out if that had an impact on whether they were chosen or not..."

Pointing to the northern pile, Danny separated the top seven pages. "while everyone in this pile has some relation to an ancient and powerful witch from the 1500s, these seven are the only ones who still share her 'family' name. I'm not sure exactly how this affects the cult's motives, Batman hadn't shared that with me in all the loops so far."

Danny glared at Batman in annoyance, he didn't care if there was a good reason or not. Without fail, in each loop that Danny's made it through where Batman makes the connection; he would refuse to tell Danny about it.

Rolling his eyes at Batman's unwavering apathy, Danny continued, "The last pile consists of people who have been dead at some point in their lives. whether it be just a few seconds or a few weeks."

passing the reports around, Danny pulled the next page from the file. "Flash and Constantine were able to connect the past locations of the cult gatherings. Constantine figured out there was a specific magic signature that he could follow, so he had Flash drag him around the world to map the locations."

tapping the table, Danny selected the world map. Glancing at the paper he had pulled out, Danny marked the places with a red dot. Then he marked the places Constantine found in blue. Looking up, Danny found the league staring at him.

"What?" Danny huffed, shoving the hologram away from him. Batman grabbed it and started to examine it.

"So, do we need Constantine for this?" Green Lantern asks, scratching his head.

Shrugging, Danny tossed the folder over to Wonder Woman. "You can call him if you want, but he won't get here until noon. He's in the house of mystery dealing with a pixie infestation."

"pixie infestation?" Superman asks, turning to look over to Zatanna. Zatanna reached into her jacket and handed him a pamphlet, not turning away from watching Danny with curious eyes.

"Anyway, like I was saying. the cult's been going around taking all these people and using them in their rituals."

"you said you knew what they were trying to do, what was it?" Batman asked with a noticeable frown.

Sighing, Danny pinched his nose. "they've been trying to summon Pariah Dark."

"The ghost king!?!?" Zatanna squawked, slamming her hands onto the table.

"yeah, that bastard," Danny grumbled, rubbing his face. The cult hadn't been successful for all fourteen years now, so Danny wasn't too worried about it. But still... If something, anything really, changed just the slightest; would they succeed? Would they drag Prariah out of his sarcophagus and let him lose on the living?

Danny's already had to face him once, he didn't know if he could do it again. The Fenton ecto-skeleton suit had been ruined last time, to the point dad hadn't even tried to fix it.

"Bastard?" Aquaman repeated, eyes narrowed, "You speak as if you've met him before."

"I have," Danny admitted, "and I will again if we don't do something about the cult." What if this is the loop the cult succeeded? what if it's the next one, or the one after that? could Danny even do anything to prevent it?

Zatara sat down with a heavy thump, her eyes widening in shock. Danny lifted his brow, wondering what was wrong with her. She hadn't acted like this any other time? what was different? had he said something he hadn't last time? hmm, something to think about later.

"back to the case," Danny shrugged, turning to gesture at the hologram of the world. "we were able to narrow down the cult's next location to about seven hundred places. I was able to check off about six hundred and thirty these last few loops. That leaves about seventy places they could be."

Danny used a yellow dot to select the seventy places he still needed to check.

"um," Flash started, nervously glancing between Danny and the globe. "you just highlighted the whole grand cannon and all of Alaska... and the Himalayas.... and the-"

"Yep," Danny cut in, "Like I said, I checked off all the others. These are the last seventy I still need to check. I haven't before because it's a lot of ground to cover. I was hoping I'd catch a break and find the cult before I had to check all those places, but nope. The fruitloops just had to make it difficult.

"oh," Flash winced, "do, do you want me to check them out?"

sighing, Danny leaned back in his chair, "I would love to have you check them out, but you need a magic user who knows what they're looking for to go with you. it's why we haven't found them yet, it's taking forever."

"Oh," was the only response he got.

"you know what we are looking for?" Zatara asks, finally getting over whatever had surprised her.

"yeah, it's hard to explain. I'll have to bring you or the others to a previous place and show you."

"hmm, alright. after the meeting, why don't you bring me so that at least one more person can help start looking, until, john is freed up at noon?" she suggests, tilting her head to the side.

"sounds good with me," Danny shrugged. it's not like it'll hurt to have her looking around, heck, they might even get lucky and she'll find them.

Next

[zaldritzosrose]

Rȳbās (Aemond x Wife!Reader)

Using the mural in a fic was something I'd planned for a while and when the beautiful @targaryen-dynasty asked for writers for her milestone celebration I snapped it up! The whole thing came together so perfectly and I hope you enjoy! Check out her full milestone celebration here!

And the masterlist will be here!

Summary: Your disinterest in your shared Valyrian heritage had been a sore point for your brother turned husband. Aemond could not fathom a reason you would not hold the same interest he did. So he devised himself a little plan to help you learn.

TW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, afab reader, canon typical incest, targcest, oral (fem receiving), Aemond being a nerd, profanity, sexual innuendo, Aemond being a tease if you squint, use of High Valyrian.

Words: 2311

ābrazyrys - wife

valzȳrys - husband

rȳbās - focus/listen/obey

Since you were small, you and Aemond had been inseparable. There was never a moment you were not at your brother’s side. You would watch him train with the sword and he would watch as you learned to control your dragon.

It was no surprise to anyone when your father declared you betrothed, citing Valyrian traditions. Your mother had not been the most accepting, but it was hard to deny the bond the two of you shared despite her reservations.

But there was one stark difference. A difference the Aemond would torment you with time and time again.

You had never taken your lessons as seriously as Aemond. Your brother turned husband had always held a fascination with your shared Valyrian heritage and history. Pouring over every tome the royal library offered, soon demanding more texts from the maesters. Even now, a man grown and married, he was ever searching for more.

At first, he had ignored your disinterest. Understanding that you maybe simply did not hold the same curious mind he did. But he would catch you reading other texts. Your interests centring more on fiction than philosophy and history.

It became a common occurrence, even after your marriage. Joining Aemond in the library after he poured over some history text or philosophical scroll. Watching him in confusion as he read and reread the texts over and over, seemingly engrossed in it despite having read every book and reem of parchment in the royal library.

When he would question you on it, you would simply say it did not interest you. He kept his true feelings quiet on that, though he could not help taking a little offence at your total dismissal of your family history. The history that made you both who you were.

He tried numerous times, even offering to teach you himself. And again, you would dismiss him. You knew enough Valyrian to command your dragon, why must you learn more, would become your new answer.

But today, it seemed he took particular offence at your disinterest.

“Would you not even take an interest if I read them to you? Explained them?” Aemond asked, hooking his finger in his book to keep his place as his good eye bored into the side of your face.

You sighed, looking up from your own book – a small one filled with poems and short stories. You could tell by the look on his face that today was going to be one of his more stubborn and insistent days.

“This again, really? Have I not already given you enough reasons…” your voice was tired, meeting his gaze one before returning to your book.

You loved the way his mind worked; it was one of the many things you had always loved. Even more so now you were married. But you wished he would understand that not everyone saw the world as he did. And it was not that you did not care for your Valyrian heritage. It was just that you saw no joy in reading about the past when you had enough to deal with in the present.

You had not argued with Aemond when, after agreeing to make his chambers your marital ones, he begged to keep his mural. A large painting of The Burning of Harrenhal during the Conquest of Aegon I, painted quite accurately it seemed above your shared bed. You did your best to spend little time looking at it, not understanding why he needed an event so dark and violent above his head. But you loved him too much to fight him on that.

You would not, however, give in to his constant insistence of joining his fevered interest in those legends and tales.

“I simply do not understand how you can dismiss our heritage so easily?”

But when you chose to ignore him, he surprisingly remained quiet. But one look at him would have told you so much. As stubborn as he was, Aemond began to devise a plan. To mix education with pleasure, you could say. Something he had yet to do to you, or should he say for you.

Something that would make sure you remembered every lesson he taught you.

You had not seen Aemond for a few hours. It was not unusual. There would be times he would forget the hour and remain in the library until he could barely keep his eye open to read. Sometimes he would decide to take an impromptu ride on Vhagar.

There were a number of things that would keep your husband from your side in the evening. So, when you returned to your chambers, you did not expect to find Aemond sit by the fire. His eye trained solely on you as you entered. Feeling as though it bored into your very soul with the intensity of his gaze.

“Have I missed something?” you asked, slipping off your shoes and making quick work of loosening your braids.

If there was one routine you had, it was to find comfort from the moment you entered your chambers. But something about Aemond was putting the atmosphere in the room on a knife’s edge.

“I have decided I will find a way to make you appreciate our heritage as I do. One way or another.”

Aemond’s voice was soft. A tone you knew immediately meant trouble. It was when he was calm and quiet that the most chaos seemed to follow. He stood quickly, making quick work of the distance between you, pulling your back towards his.

“I am sure, sweet sister, that you will enjoy my lessons much more than any others.”

Your body melted back into his as his lips found your neck. Kisses gentle yet demanding all at the same time. His hands splayed over your stomach as your head fell back to rest on his shoulder.

“You are yet to convince me, despite months of trying. What makes you think that will change tonight?” your voice was barely louder than a whisper, your resolve slowly faltering as he nipped at your pulse point. His smirk evident.

Aemond could feel your pulse under his lips, knowing just his words and touch were enough to already have you like putty in his hands.

“Have some faith, my love, you do not know what I am capable of…” Aemond whispered, nipping at your skin as he walked you towards the bed.

As your knees hit the footboard, Aemond gave you a gentle push forwards. You scrambled to catch yourself, hands planted on the bed as you slightly turned back towards Aemond with a questioning brow raise.

He only hummed, shedding his leather doublet and tilting his head as if planning his next move.

“Hands and knees, ābrazyrys.” Aemond ordered, his gaze not wavering from yours.

There was part of you that wanted to disobey, to bite back. But that look told you it would be a mistake. That tonight was not a night to toy with him. Aemond watched with a serious expression as you got into the desired position, your forearms flat to the bed as you rested your head atop them. But that was not quite how he wanted you.

“Head up, look at the mural.”

You frowned but did as he bid, all the while wondering what he could possibly be aiming for. His hands were warm as the caressed a path on both sides of your waist, mapping out each curve of your body. When he reached the hem of your dress, he pushed it high, silently demanding its removal. With quick movements, you pulled the dress over your body, throwing it aside and returning to your previous position. Bare and presenting yourself like an animal for your husband.

Aemond could only hum in approval, impressed by your choice to obey him without argument. He wondered, then, if that would bode well for the rest of the evening. You could hear the sounds of Aemond’s clothes being removed. One by one hitting the floor until he was as bare as you were, you assumed. You dared not look back at him.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, his hand following the same path as before, but now you could feel the roughness of his palms against your skin.

You wondered what his next move would be curiosity eating at you. You sighed out softly as his hands needed at your rear, soon turning to a moan as he gave one then the other a gentle smack.

“Now, we shall make a deal. You will recite the story told in that mural, and in return I will bring you naught but pleasure,” Aemond voice sounded serious, but you could hear the small strain of desire within him at the sight of you bent over like this.

His hands continued their path down your body, parting your thighs. What you did not expect to feel was the warm puff of his breath against your folds. Already slick with want from the anticipation.

“I do not understa…oh!” Your words fell to a gasp the second you felt the hot swipe of his tongue against you.

Aemond had never pleasured you like this, not because he did not want to. He had offered before, but you had felt a small twinge of embarrassment at the idea and always denied him. But now, you realised what a mistake that had been.

Your pleasure, however, was short-lived when Aemond tapped at your thigh and removed his mouth from your core.

“Recite the tale, wife.” His voice was lower, hoarse almost. It was clear he was as filled with desire as you, but fighting hard to keep up the control he had in this moment.

You groaned softly, but when you realised that he was serious you began as best as you could remember.

“In 2 BC, Harren the Black completed the building of his castle, Harrenhal,” The moment you began speaking, Aemond resumed his ministrations. Soft licks to your core to ease you into your pleasure.

Your voice was soft, every word punctuated with a moan as you continued. Detailing how Aegon the Conqueror had arrived not long after, how two battles had been fought. How Harren had been forced to close the gates of Harrenhal for his own protection.

Aemond smirked against you. He had been going easy, luring you into a false sense of security. He was not done with you yet. He gave you a moment’s reprieve and praised your efforts.

“Keep going, my love, I am impressed…”

If you had been more aware, you would have heard the vaguely mocking tone in his voice. You would have taken that as a warning for what was to come. But unfortunately, you were not.

You began again, mere seconds passed before Aemond began to lap at you again. But this time, he had you gripping the sheets beneath, eyes barely staying open as you were taken over by pleasure.

But a slap to your thigh told you to continue the story.

“Gods…uh…” You tried to speak, feeling him chuckle into your wet heat.

Aemond gripped your thigh in yet another warning, one more sign of hesitation and he would stop.

"Rȳbās..." he growled deep into your cunt as he squeezed your thigh again.

“Harrenhal was too strong to be sieged, so Aegon offered to confirm Harren as the Lord of the Iron Islands if he yielded to him…” your voice broke into a low, keening moan of Aemond’s name as he pressed himself deeper into you, burying his tongue as far as it would go.

You could feel your release readily approaching, but you were still coherent enough to know you would not be allowed to peak until you were done retelling the history.

“Fuck…Aem…” You tried to remember the rest, your hips instinctively rolling back against his face.

Your eyes rolled as you felt him grunt into you, as lost to his pleasure as you were. His cock hard and ready between his thighs, pulsing with need at the mere taste of you. His hand crept around your body, his thumb pressing against your swollen bud. The pleasure was almost too much but you were now determined to prove you could finish the tale despite your husband’s tongue lapping eagerly at your cunt.

“Harren…Harren refused and Aegon took to Balerion and burned the castle. Cracking the walls, burning everything within and ending House Hoare…Fuck!”

Aemond no longer cared for the rest of the tale, his thumb rubbing at your pearl furiously as his mouth devoured you. His cock leaking onto the stone below as his own pleasure stirred in his stomach.

“Come for me, wife…” Aemond commanded, his free hand grasping at the flesh of your rear to ground himself.

Within moments, your juices flowed onto his tongue, joined by your almost screamed moans of pleasure and chants of his name. Your knuckles almost white at you gripped at the black sheets below.

Aemond did not relent, drinking down everything you gave him until you began to pull away. Your body limp as you dropped to the bed. He was quick to crawl up beside you, stroking a hand down your damp back.

“Well done, sweet wife…I had half a mind to believe you would fail…”

You barely huffed out a laugh, turning on to your side to look at him.

“So little faith you have in me, valzȳrys?” you breathed out, tugging him down for a kiss, groaning at the taste of yourself on his lips.

Aemond pressed himself against you, making you readily aware of the heavy weight of his cock still thick and waiting between his thighs. Your hand travelled down, gripping him and relishing the moan that left him. A wicked idea soon entered your mind. It was only fair to see if your so-called historian of a husband was as capable as you had just been.

“Maybe, it is my turn to test you?”

Tags (feel free to let me know if you want adding)

@blissfulphilospher @elaratyrell @khaleesihel @multyfangirl

@legitalicat @thenameswinter99 @aemondsbabe @anjelicawrites

@sylasthegrim @arcielee @starogeorgina @connorsui

@bucknastysbabe @thought--bubble @aemonds-holy-milk

@kaelatargaryen

[mv1simp]

for anon’s request: How about Lewis’ Daughter!reader like innocent and protected but Max completely makes her submit to him like actual love that she thinks Lewis is the bad guy for tryna come between their relationship? (Made it Lewis’ sister!)

Gods & Monsters ♥️

Max Verstappen x Hamilton!Reader

You got that medicine I need, fame liquor love, give it to me slowly…

As Lewis Hamilton’s younger, innocent sister, you’re desperate to prove yourself as an upcoming racer. Your family never seems to take you seriously, though, and after a fall out you end up training under Max Verstappen - your brother’s arch rival. Max promises he’ll train you to become the next world champion…as long as you do everything he asks.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin Hamilton! Reader, dark manipulative! Max, VERY dubcon, blindfolds, size kink, somnophilia, LH44 is sexist for plot reasons, ayo this is DARK!! 😙 3.4k WC

Growing up, you and your big brother Lewis were presented with two options. Either succeed, or fail to live upto the Hamilton name. Both your parents were incredibly hardworking and sacrificing - but all their attention would always go to their firstborn, the much older, bigger and better Hamilton. You were just as good as Lewis had been when starting out, spending every weekend on the track and dominating the junior karting races - but when it came time for you to progress into formula cars, your brother and father had chuckled, patting your head and saying it might be a bit too much for you, you were a lot smaller and younger than Lewis, after all. Maybe you should just stick to karting for now, or had you considered going into car design, you got pretty good grades in uni and that’s a much safer option?

You were understandably upset at the lack of opportunity to prove your last name. So you tried to sneak onto the F1 paddock, chatting up the team principals in the hope that they would recognise you from the karting podiums and recruit you into their junior teams-

But Lewis had caught on unbelievably fast, a tight smile and redirecting hand on your back as he led you out of the McLaren garage. We discussed this, baby sis Lewis said as you walked back to the Mercedes hospitality. He was never one to raise his voice but you could tell from his tone he was disappointed. You tried to argue again, saying that it wasn’t fair, you were a good driver too, but Lewis cut you off with a stern look. It’s not safe for you. The guys who race here - they aren’t like me, lil sis. You can’t trust any of them. I’m sorry, but you should stay in karting.

You’d slumped in resignation, briefly looking into the Redbull garage as you walked past - the only team you hadn’t yet gone to talk to. And home to perhaps the only driver who could understand the pressure you felt to live upto your father’s expectation - current reigning champion, Max Verstappen. Otherwise known as the bane of your family’s existence. He’d been the one to break your big brother’s winning streak, the subject of many a heated family discussion over the dinner table about how to defeat in a race. Truly, you hadn’t seen your big brother hate someone before until the day Max had crashed into him, sending him to the hospital and your heart rate into 200bpm as you prayed for his safety. Lewis had been fine, but his winning streak had not as Max went onto P1 that race.

So you had always learnt to stay far, far away from Mad Max. But last year when you’d been having a hard time on one of your karting races, and you paced back and forth during the red flag because normally you’d ask Lewis for help but he had started coming less often these days - you were interrupted by a knock on the door. You ran to open it, thinking your brother had decided to come after all - only to crane your head up to meet the handsome face of the tall Dutch Redbull driver. You’d immediately flushed, on guard just like your family had taught you to be and asking what he was doing - but he had kindly ignored your rudeness and said he happened to be here for another friend and had seen your race, did you need some advice?

You’d been so desperate to win that you had let him in, looking around to make sure no paparazzi had seen as you were sure Lewis would ban you permanently from karting if he caught a whiff of this. To your suprise, Max was so helpful and supportive, giving you excellent pointers and aggressive strategies your brother would never dare guide you towards. You’d gone onto win P1, and after the podium had excitedly gone to find Max and thank him. Of course, schat, he’d replied easily, a handsome smile on his face, making you blush. Since then Max had always been there to guide you at your races, making you win multiple competitions to celebrate together or comfort you after a loss. Your family had no idea, of course, because they would skin both you and Max alive if they ever knew about your close friendship.

But now, things were starting to reach a boiling point as your relationship with your brother became tense as he actively tried to deter your formula career. And Max - your kind, thoughtful friend Max - had definitely noticed this. So he casually informed you that the Redbull academy was recruiting, and personally drove you the trials the next week, and welcomed your excited hug into his broad arms afterwards as you sailed into P1 and were offered an immediate spot on the Redbull F2 team, so grateful that the older, experienced driver had taken such a genuine interest in your racing, unlike your own family.

When you tried to break the good news to your family, shit had obviously hit the fan and they demanded that you decline the position. It’s not that I’m not proud of you baby sis, Lewis had sighed. It’s that you cannot trust Max Verstappen, seriously - he only thinks about himself. He’ll definitely hurt you or use you to hurt me.

You had screamed and cried, saying that Max had been the only one to look out for you these last few months. You’d called the Dutchman for advice, sniffling and saying I’m sorry Maxie, they won’t let me go, I have to decline-

He’d gently interrupted and reminded you that you’re an adult, you know schat? And an incredibly talented driver. You should put yourself first for a change. You’d hesitated, because you’d never done anything without your family closely supervising you before - but where would you go, you say confused. You didn’t know anyone - you know me, Max offered. Come stay at mine while you sort things out, but don’t let it delay starting your F2 season.

You’d started crying again, telling the Dutch driver how lucky you were to have him as a friend. And that’s how you found yourself tucked into his much larger frame, on his private jet en route to Monaco, fast asleep from the emotionally charged day as he lovingly kissed your forehead. And your temporary residence at his penthouse dragged into months into an indefinite stay as he insisted it was safer for you, given the papparazzi that had gone crazy at the youngest Hamilton sibling switching sides - just for now, until it dies down. You’d gratefully accepted, becoming accustomed to his luxurious lifestyle and wanting to be in close proximity to Max. It was hard to control the thumping of your heart as you scolded yourself internally for your crush on the tall driver, who you were sure only saw you as a junior driver to guide.

Before the season started, Max had warned you that your family would interfere and try to turn you against him. You hadn’t taken it seriously, but when Lewis approached you at your first race, demanded to speak to you in person after you’d been blocking his calls for days, Max had been all to happy to get security to escort him away after you’d started becoming upset, just like he knew you would. Don’t pay any mind to him, schat. He’s probably just jealous of your success.

You’d found that hard to believe, because although your big brother had a few annoying traits, he would always be genuinely happy about your wins. But Max had planted the seed of doubt that began to crumble your inner self worth, questioning if your big bro had only been holding you back because he wanted to remain the family champion. Remaining on edge, your anxiety began damaging your racing and dropping you in the rankings. You slept fretfully, paranoid that you were going to be benched and would be forced to go home in humiliation and hear your family’s we told you so.

You let Max climb into your bed one night when he heard your muffled cries, running a soothing hand up and down your back, hungrily enjoying the view of your thick ass as your silky nightie rode up while you sobbed into his strong chest. And when you opened up about all your worries, it was only natural that he offered to be the one to train you, being the current world champion and all, right? You had lit up, so delighted that he had offered, flushed because truly you’d never met anyone so kind and giving like him.

And Max - well, he would never let an opportunity to get back at Lewis slide by. Training his precious little sister, the one he always protectively hid away from the rest of the grid? Oh, it was almost too perfect, he thought darkly. And it was an added bonus that you were so gorgeous, all dark curls, innocent doe eyes and a soft, curvy 5 foot figure under his almost 6 foot frame. But my training is intense, schat. Very strict. He made you promise that you’d do whatever he asked, no matter how you felt, because it was the only way to win - and that you couldn’t tell anyone else about his top secret training methods, especially your big brother. You’d eagerly nodded your agreement, looking up at him with starry eyes and saying Yes Maxie, of course, I trust you, thank you so much for offering, I’m so grateful!

As the weeks went by, Max proved himself to be the best mentor you could ask for. You two would train together, going on morning jogs, drinking the same protein smoothies, discussing the best overtaking techniques. All the time you two spent together made rumours fly around the paddock about the exact nature of your relationship - but Max dismissed them all with a roll of his eyes, telling you that it was so sexist of people to assume you were his girlfriend and not his junior driver. You’d agreed, althought you couldn’t help feeling disappointed that Max didn’t seem to think about you in a romantic sense at all.

Your rankings started improving, but Max had said that you needed a lot more work if you wanted to reach P1, especially given your smaller size compared to the rest of the drivers. You nodded eagerly, curious when he easily picked you up and deposited you in between his thick thighs on his sim rig, ordering you to show him your driving. You’d been doing so well until he started brushing his large hands across your soft waist and whispering naughty things in your ear about how sexy you looked, how hard it was to resist you every night while you slept right next door to him. You’d squealed, confused and asking just what he was doing - Trying to test your ability to focus, to avoid any distractions, Max replies disapprovingly as your car crashed on the screen. Clearly, you have a lot of work to do. This isn’t good enough!

Oh, you’d replied, feeling foolish for thinking anything romantic of it. Max didn’t like you like that, after all. So you two resumed the daily sessions, him torturing you for hours with caresses all over your body, squeezing your soft tits and pinching your nipples through your tight camisoles, and sliding large fingers up the skirt he’d always make you wear to tease your embarrassingly damp slit. You’d gone pink in the face when he first felt it, stuttering out apologies but he just sweetly reassured you that it wasn’t your fault, just a normal reaction - like this, he’d said, pulling your small waist back so you grinded on something very large and hard tucked into his sweats. You’d never felt something like that before, having never had a boyfriend since your family always kept you under their protective eye.

But it felt sooo good, you thought guiltily, hoping Max wouldn’t mind when you would be unable to resist grinding against him some sessions. He never seemed to care, instead progressing you to the next level by slipping his cock out of his sweats one night and letting it bounce up against your most innocent parts. You had gone wide eyed seeing it for the first time, not expecting it to look soo big and thick and angry, making your stomach twist in fear. But it was business as usual as Max angrily scolded you for becoming distracted, making you restart as he began gliding his cock along your puffy folds - always separated by your soaked lace panties, of course.

Once you had become a master at being laser focused, he made you develop your senses next. A good driver is always in tune with the feel, the smell, the sound of the car, he explains. You don’t question him, obediently drooping onto your thick ass in front of his spread thighs as he wraps a silk tie across your eyes. You bite your lip from the sudden disorientation, feeling nervous, but Max’s large palm comfortingly strokes your hair. At his command you poke your tongue out and hold your palms up, waiting for the first test and he almost groans out loud from your sweet gullibility. You correctly identify a bunch of different exotic tasting fruits, specific switches and buttons on the replica steering wheel - and sassy, you giggle, when you feel Max’s cat climb into your lap. He muses that he’s going to have to give you something harder to figure out cause you’re so good as this, making you blush from the praise. You curiously hear a rustle as he steps closer and then he guides your small hands to something very long and thick. You experimentally rub your hands along it, hearing Max hiss. A banana? You say dumbly after a few beats, Cucumber?

Wrong, Max says, sounding a bit breathless. Why don’t you taste it, hmm? You diligently lick the tip of it with your delicate tongue, not recognising the heady, salty taste, and begin licking more and more as you become determined to figure it out. You don’t know how many minutes have passed but you aren’t any closer to guessing it, instead saying It tastes really good, Maxie, what is it? You hear him swear, grip tightening in your hair, and then he orders you to open your mouth wide to get a proper taste, his normally deep voice even huskier than normal. You feel him trace your plush lips with his thumb, making you feel that dirty tingly feeling in between your legs again, before the mysterious warm and thick length is shoved down your throat, making you gag uncontrollably. You whine, trying to pull back and breathe, but Max’s strong hand doesn’t let up as he roughly shoves it in and out of your tight mouth.

Tears drip down your cheeks at the intensity and you’re drooling messily, but Max doesn’t seem to care one bit and you might’ve imagined it but you thought you hear the click of multiple photos being taken. Guessed what it is yet, schat? Max asks mockingly, and you whine, shaking your head. Too bad, maybe this will help you figure it out. He pushes the whole length past your lips as you feel something thick and creamy flood your mouth, giving you no option but to swallow it, licking your lips to try figure out the taste. Afterwards, Max had gently taken the blindfold off, revealing his flushed face, and wipes your tears away sweetly. Sorry I didn’t get the last answer, you say guiltily, upset that you had no clue. It’s alright, doll, Max reassured, I’m sure you’ll get it next time, yeah?

Another thing that you needed to improve was your endurance and stamina. F2 races were a lot more demanding than karting, Max pointed out, noticing how tired you would be after a race. He increased the frequency of your runs and workouts, always helping you stretch before and letting his dark gaze hungrily linger on your pliant body underneath him. You’d wear the cutest little yoga shorts and sports bras, leaving your sensitive chocolate-toned skin on display for him, and it was almost too easy to accidentally slide in between your legs or brush the swell of your breasts as he stretched you out, bending your legs right back up over your head and leaving you breathless. But it wasn’t enough for Max as you consistently scored on the podium now but never P1. So he proposed the ultimate endurance training, that all the F1 drivers did regularly - fucking.

Fu-you mean, making love?! You’d shrieked hysterically, whipping your head up as he brought it up casually when you two were watched a movie, cuddled up on the couch. He’d smirked, Sure darling, making love.

You’d looked nervous, like a deer in headlights, telling him you weren’t sure, you felt uncomfortable doing that for the first time…but Max’s stormy expression left no room for discussion. Everyone on the grid does it, all the time. Even your older brother, he said condescendingly. It’s a pretty good stress relief. Trust me, your driving will become so much faster.

You innocently eat up Max’s blatant lies, hesitantly asking if you should get a boyfriend then, that cute engineer from the Redbull garage had asked you out after all- No! Max says heatedly, glaring furiously at the thought of some other man laying their hands on what belonged to him. You look at him, confused how he expects you to- I mean, no, it’s fine schat, it’s part of your training after all, so I’ll take care of you, okay?

You flushed prettily, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together at the thought of Max taking your virginity, as your romantic feelings had only grown the more time you spent with him. And soon enough, later that night, Max had climbed into your bed again to find you shyly waiting for him, dressed in that silky nightie he liked. Pulling it up over your hips, he moved your lace panties to the side and made you blush as he hungrily eyed your dripping innocence, just like he’d done many times while you’d been peacefully sleeping, unaware of the twisted desires your mentor had for you. He’d then stretched you out on his thick fingers, then replaced them with his even thicker cock - no condom, of course - sickly enjoying the tears streaming down your face as you sweetly moaned from pain and pleasure. Within minutes he was claiming you as his, sending you spiralling into orgasm after orgasm, screaming his name as you fell apart from overstimulation.

Max smirked at your small frame that was now passed out below him - you’d need a lot more training if this is all you could handle, he thought darkly as he gripped your petite waist, easily continuing to move you up and down his fat cock like a ragdoll. You moan blissfully in your sleep as he stretched out your virgin cunny. Maybe multiple times a day, Max decided, cause you just felt too damn good. In his bed next time, on the kitchen counter, in your driver’s room before the race and then maybe again after- and at least once in a hotel room where he neighboured Lewis. He could just imagine your wide eyes, teary from panic as you struggled to keep your moans quiet, begging him Maxie please, please not so rough as his thrusts repeatedly banged the headboard against the wall, making it clear to his rival just what kind of filthy things Max Verstappen was doing to his precious little sister.

The dirty, possessive thought makes him cum with a guttural moan, pumping you full of his generous load as he buries his flushed face in between your pretty tits to lick and bite at them. But what Max most looked forward to was the look on Lewis’ face when you would eventually show up to the paddock one day, F2 trophy in hand and a glittering rock on your ring finger to match, beaming in anticipation of replacing the Hamilton surname with Verstappen.

And no, Max would not be inviting him to the wedding.

—————————————————————————

A/N: ok anyways. This is a ridiculous amount of smut for me to have churned out in less than a day I need to touch some grass 🙏 as always lmk what you think and send in some more requests!

[vivwritesfics]

Sweat, Baby, Sweat - MV1

Singapore is hot, incredibly hot. So, what do you do when you sweat through your shirt? You borrow your simp of a teammates shirt.

Max Verstappen x RB Driver!Reader

1.6K

Masterlist

Singapore was Y/Ns favourite track. It was taxing, but it was her favourite. High adrenaline and incredible heat. Anything could happen out there on the track.

If anywhere was going to end Red Bulls reign of dominance, it was Singapore. Y/N L/N and Max Verstappen had worked together, teammates in harmony, to keep the winning streak going.

On the rare instance Max wasn't on the podium, Y/N was in his place. More often than not they shared the podium, spraying the champagne with the biggest grins on their faces.

Only twice that year Y/N had gone out in Q2, not making it to Q3. When that happened, she couldn't face Christian, couldn't look at Max. Nobody was a bigger critic of Y/N than Y/N herself.

Singapore was hot, hot, hot.

As Max and Y/N did those little press videos (for the life of me I can't remember what they're called SOMEONE HELP PLS) Y/N was sweating. Several times while they filmed, she was pulling her shirt away from her neck, trying to get at least a little bit of air.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She had long since taken off her Red Bull hat, too hot for that extra fabric on her head.

The press video was hard to get through. Y/N had gotten through at least three bottles of water before they finally finished. While they filmed, Max kept looking at her, frown on his face. Clearly, he was concerned.

Actually, all of the Red Bull team was concerned, but none more than him.

As soon as they'd finished filming, Y/N ran off to the bathroom. She did her business, splashed some water on her face and smelt the inside of her shirt.

It wasn't pleasant. The Red Bull shirt was such dark colours, no wonder Y/N was having trouble. She'd have to change before she and Max got on with the next round of press.

Y/N rushed off away from the press and the cameras. She ran by a concerned Max, who tried to grab her by the arm, and past the Red Bull team. "I'll be back in ten minutes," she said to Christian as she ran past.

Y/N made her way back to her hotel room. It wasn't too far away from the track, and she had almost all of her friends (aka, the other drivers) on the same floor as her.

When Y/N first started in F1, driving for Toro Rosso, there was a mixed response from fans. At that point, the fans were mostly older men and their sons. Their reactions were a mix of sexualising her and slut shaming her. Most had fears that she'd distract the rest of the grid by sleeping with them all before every race.

But the F1 Fans had grown used to her. And they loved her. They loved her as much as they loved Carlos and Pierre and Magnussen. They loved her as much as they loved every other driver on the grid.

Once in her hotel room, Y/N got changed into another Red Bull shirt. She didn't have many left, certainly not enough for the next three days of the grand prix (if things were keeping up the way they were).

After getting changed Y/N quickly checked her phone. Messages from Max and Christian, her manager reminding her of the next bit of press she had to do and her parents wishing her luck on the qualifying.

By the time Y/N got down to complete the press interview, she was already sweating. Anxiety bubbled up in side of her. What if she smelt bad? What if the cameras picked up on her pit stains?

Before the interview started, Max nudged her with his elbow. "Is everything okay?" He asked her, keeping his eyes trained forward.

Max had always been considerate when it came to Y/N. He knew what she had been through at the start of her career, the things she had to deal with from the fans. He was more aware than anybody that it was still going on. If Y/N was caught having fun with any of the drivers, they'd ridicule her online.

"Yeah, Max, I'm fine."

Y/N made it through the day in that shirt. She went to bed that night in only her underwear to try and keep cool.

By breakfast that morning she had already begun to sweat. Not through her shirt, not yet. She made it to lunch before she had to get changed.

Before the qualifying, Max pulled her to one side. Out of the prying eyes of any camera, Max grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. Once again, she wasn't wearing her hat, making it easier for him.

"Something is going on with you. You keep disappearing," he said to her, not loosening his grip. And he wouldn't until she told him what was going on.

Y/N shook her head. "I'm okay, Max, really."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Just tell me!"

Letting out a sigh, Y/N looked up at him and pulled his hat from his head. She placed it on her own and smiled. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

"It's just you."

Max's flirting had been really subtle since Y/N became his teammate. He hadn't wanted to toe the line, didn't want to receive the repercussions of trying to date his teammate.

Qualifying was horrible. Y/N swore in all the years before it had never been this bad. The heat was distracting and she was out in Q2, taken out by Lance fucking Stroll.

Y/N was fuming. There was only one person who could comfort her. And he was currently driving around the circuit with the fastest lap.

Y/N's post qualifying interview was short. She answered every question with one word answers, her face like a slapped ass. As soon as the interview was over she was off to her drivers room to sulk.

She was only granted two minutes to herself before there was a knock on the door. Christian didn't wait for an answer before he walked in. "How are you doing?" He asked her, leaning against the door.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. It was far too hot to think.

"Well, whatever it is, have it sorted by tomorrow," he continued. "And, come and celebrate with your teammate."

The next day went much the same. Y/N sweated through breakfast and, by the time she got to lunch, she was having to change her shirt.

But there was one problem. She didn't have any shirts she hadn't already sweated through.

With nothing else to do, Y/N tucked her hands into her armpits and walked towards her boss. "Christian," she muttered almost timidly. It wasn't like Y/N to be timid. There wasn't room for it, with her being a woman in the sport.

She took him into her drivers room and made an embarrassing confession. She couldn't look Christian in the face as she told him how much she had been struggling in the heat and that she had no more shirts left.

Christian pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Well, I know for a fact Max has another shirt. I'll go and grab it for you," he said, sparing her the embarrassment of telling somebody else.

When Christian returned with a shirt for Y/N she was quick to change. She put on some more deodorant and pulled Max's shirt over her head. Lifting the collar to her nose she breathed in. Max. It smelled of Max. It smelled amazing.

When she walked out of her drivers room, there were stares. She wasn't much aware of the stares she was getting, her eyes searching for one person and one person only.

Max didn't know what to do when he saw her. The shirt was slightly too big, hanging down to her thighs. It was oversized on her, the short sleeves almost at her elbows. Wow. That was all Max could think. Just wow.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He watched as she lifted the collar of the shirt to her nose and smelt it yet again. His heart fluttered. Wow. Just wow.

Y/N turned around and spotted Max hidden behind a team of engineers. She wove her way around the engineers, approaching him. "Thanks for the shirt," she said with a smile.

Max didn't know how to respond. He kept staring at herm unable to take his eyes off of her. It was struggle before she was wearing his clothes, but now Max didn't stand a chance.

When Y/N took his hat from her head, he finally looked at her face. "It suits you," he managed to say. She was irresistible. It was almost too much for him.

No, it was too much for him.

"Fuck it," Max whispered under his breath. He placed his hands on her hip, catching Y/N off guard. Max wasted in time in leaning in. He pressed is lips to hers in a somewhat awkward kiss.

But it didn't take Y/N long to get with the programme. She pulled the hat from her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. Closing her eyes she deepened things, leaning into him.

When she finally pulled away, Max couldn't stop staring at her.

"I've wanted to do that since we became teammates," he whispered, taking the hat from Y/N and placing it on his head.

"What stopped you?"