#the thing is i feel like some of these are so personal that it would be scary to even post them here or on ao3

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

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There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[writetheidea]

Too Much to Be Enough

Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. In this one, I tried writing with an unnamed character after someone reached out to me suggesting that I shouldn't tag "x reader" even if the character had a short name. They were not this polite in their wording. Kindly let me know if you find this more enjoyable and if you have any advice or feedback.

Pairing:  Franco Colapinto x female character

Plot: everyone thinks she's too much—too loud, too affectionate, too overwhelming—but as long as Franco loves her, she feels enough. When a painful betrayal forces her to question everything, she’s left wondering if even his love can truly be unconditional.

Tag: hurt/no comfort, angst.

Word count: 2077

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

Franco Colapinto had become a rising star in Formula 1—his unexpected debut mid-season with Williams brought attention, intrigue, and the buzz of fans enamored by his unfiltered charm and skill on the track. To the world, he was a formidable talent, sharp in his focus and strategic in his every move. But to her, Franco was simply her Franco—the person she adored with every fiber of her being, the man who lit up her world with his easy laugh and grounded presence. She never tried to share him with the world; her joy was simply in being there. To Franco, she was a grounding force. To her, he was the brightest point of her life.

Their relationship had always been natural, filled with the kind of closeness that felt both unbreakable and safe. She loved to be near him, to catch the quiet smiles he reserved just for her or hold him close, her arms around him like a shield. She had a way of finding him when he was deep in conversation, slipping her arms around him or perching on the arm of a chair, just listening, watching him with eyes that spoke of adoration. She adored him openly and shamelessly, kissing his cheeks, bringing him little snacks between meetings, and laughing at his every story as if it was the first time she'd heard it. It was how she showed love—boldly, sincerely.

In public, her spirited affection sometimes drew raised brows. She was quick to laugh, unrestrained in her warmth, the kind of person who got excited over the little things. When she spoke, her voice had a way of filling the air, especially when she became passionate, her laughter rich and booming. Franco’s teammates would sometimes tease her for it, not unkindly, but she felt Franco’s protective arm settle around her back, his voice lowering to gently bring her back to the moment, a silent reminder that she was safe, that she didn’t need to hold back. She never felt like too much with him; she felt like enough.

When Franco got his F1 call-up, the world saw his potential, his brilliance. He went from a promising driver to a star almost overnight, and with that came the scrutiny, the endless, dissecting gaze of the world. There were new pressures, new challenges—he was praised and criticized in equal measure, and with him, she found herself swept up too. Fans adored him—his directness, his humor, his daring spirit. He was the next big thing, and with that title came every word spoken about him, every inch of him magnified. And suddenly, they wanted to know her, too. Who was Franco Colapinto’s girlfriend?

But their adoration of Franco didn’t extend to her.

She’d never been the kind of girl who worried about attention, but the way the public spoke about her… it was like a slow, smothering weight pressing down on her heart. They saw only a girl who seemed too clingy, too loud, and too unfitting of someone they had put on a pedestal. Her open affection was criticized as immature, her laughter labeled as attention-seeking. They dissected her every move and labeled her a distraction, tearing into her with the kind of brutality she’d never experienced. It felt like strangers were peeling her apart piece by piece, tearing away the person Franco had always loved.

She tried to ignore it at first, comforting herself with the knowledge that Franco didn’t seem to mind, that he even loved her as she was. Franco was all that mattered; his opinion was the one she trusted. He was the only reason she could keep her head up, brushing off the hate as long as she knew she had his love. And when Franco looked at her, his smile never wavered. She held onto that—the belief that he loved her as she was, even when the world made her question it.

But then came Brazil. She’d been watching from the paddock, her heart leaping every time he turned a corner, nerves twisting as he went head-to-head with some of the most seasoned drivers in the world. And then, the crash. It was terrifying, watching him collide and skid, helpless from a distance as her heart stopped, praying he was okay. Her relief was overwhelming when he emerged unharmed, but Franco’s face had been pale, his expression distant as he made his way off the track. She could see the weight of the moment pulling him under, the strain and pressure breaking through his usually calm demeanor. She wanted to reach for him, to pull him close, tell him she was there for him, that she would carry the weight if she could.

But he’d pulled away from her, muttering that he needed a minute to gather himself. Respecting his space, she’d wandered to the restroom, splashing water on her face, telling herself he’d come around, that he just needed time. She returned to his room, pausing outside, not wanting to intrude if he still needed space. And that’s when she heard it.

“…but don’t you think she’s a bit much?” The voice was that of his engineer, a man she’d thought liked her, someone she’d shared a few laughs with before. “She’s always there. Always talking, always needing to be… close. Must be a lot to deal with when you’re under this kind of pressure.”

She waited, her breath frozen, trusting that Franco’s response would ease her worry, that he’d brush it off as nonsense, defend her like he always had.

But his voice—the voice she trusted, the voice that had always assured her she was enough—spoke words she could barely stand to hear. Franco responded quieter than she’d ever heard it. “Yeah… I mean, sometimes. It’s a lot, too much, you know?”

She could hardly breathe, the words sinking in slowly, one by one, like sharp blades against her skin. He thought she was too much. A lot. The one person she thought she could be her fullest self with, the person who had always made her feel safe to love so openly, to be unapologetically herself—he was overwhelmed by her too. She was his burden, the weight that followed him. Tears began to blur her vision, but she stayed frozen, rooted in place as she listened to them continue, laughing and talking about her as though she were some trivial inconvenience, as though her love was suffocating him.

She backed away from the door, her heart breaking with every step. The tears came fast and hot, her whole body trembling with the force of them as she stumbled back into the restroom. Locking herself inside, she slid down against the wall, burying her face in her hands, feeling her heart shatter into a million pieces. She had fought so hard to believe in her own worth, to convince herself that she was lovable and that her affection wasn’t too much for him to bear. But he agreed. He agreed with them, with the strangers who hated her, who thought she was too loud, too affectionate, too clingy.

She had tried so hard to believe that Franco saw her the way she saw him—as irreplaceable, as the very air he breathed. But hearing his quiet agreement, the confirmation that the one person she thought she could trust didn’t love her as she was… it left her feeling hollow, like a fragile shell of herself.

---

When Franco found her, he looked at her with that familiar softness, his arms coming around her as he held her close. She clung to him, not because it made her feel better but because she didn’t know how else to act, didn’t know how to pretend it was all okay. He asked her why she was crying, and she forced herself to smile through the tears, saying it was because of his crash, that she’d been worried. He looked at her with relief, gently pulling her closer, and she let him, even though his touch felt like fire against her skin, burning with the memory of his words. For the first time in their relationship, being near him didn’t feel safe.

In the days that followed, she withdrew into herself, letting Franco slip away piece by piece. She stifled her laughter, kept her voice low, spoke only when necessary. She still brought him snacks, still sat beside him as he debriefed with his team, but now she was a shadow, a shell of the girl she once was. She didn’t touch him as freely, didn’t drape herself over his shoulders or pepper his face with kisses. She gave him what the world wanted, the perfect, silent partner, standing just behind him, looking at him only when he looked away.

Fans noticed the change, taking to social media to praise her for finally learning her place. They called her refined, mature, supportive. They praised her “new maturity,” applauded her for “knowing her place.” They liked her better this way, in the background, quiet, subdued. For the first time, she fit the image of the F1 girlfriend they wanted her to be. She was a supporting character, there for Franco when he needed her but silent, never in the spotlight, never drawing attention.

But Franco hated it. He missed her laugh, the way her hands would find his at every turn, the way she’d rest her head on his shoulder while he spoke. He missed the way she’d light up a room with her excitement, her laughter like music that chased away the shadows of his stress. He tried everything to bring her back, brushing his fingers along her cheek, whispering little jokes, pulling her close. But she stayed quiet, her smile polite but hollow, her laughter a pale echo of what it used to be.

She wasn’t his girl anymore. She was someone else, a stranger wearing her face.

---

One night, after a particularly grueling day, Franco found her alone in their hotel room. She was sitting by the window, staring into the dark night, her reflection in the glass a ghost of the girl he had fallen in love with. He crossed the room, kneeling beside her, his hand finding hers.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice breaking with the weight of his worry. “Tell me what’s wrong. Where did you go?”

She looked at him, her eyes full of a pain he couldn’t understand, couldn’t reach. “I’m here, Franco,” she whispered, her voice soft and fragile.

“No, you’re not,” he said, his voice thick. “You’re… you’re gone. The girl I love is gone.”

Her lips trembled, and she pulled her hand from his, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to hold herself together. She was quiet for a long time before she spoke, her words barely audible. “I heard you… that day in Brazil. I heard you tell your engineer that I was too much. That I was a lot.”

Franco’s heart dropped, a cold shock of realization rushing through him. He remembered the conversation, the way he’d laughed along, never thinking his words would reach her. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I never meant it like that.”

“But you said it,” she replied, her voice breaking. “You agreed with them. You agreed with everyone. You were the only person who made me feel like I wasn’t too much, like I was enough. But if even you… if you think I’m too much…”

Her voice trailed off, her shoulders shaking as she hugged herself tighter. Franco reached for her, his heart shattering as he saw the pain he’d caused, the light he’d extinguished. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love everything about you. You’re not too much. I need you, all of you.”

He reached for her, but she drew back, her body a closed door, her eyes filled with a sadness that cut deeper than anything. “I love you with everything I have,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I would have given anything to be enough for you.”

He could feel his own tears burning, the agony of realizing that his careless words had stripped away the light from the woman he adored. “You are enough,” he said desperately, his voice thick. “You’re everything to me. I love you just as you are.”

But she only shook her head, her hand lifting to his cheek, her fingers brushing his skin one last time. “I don’t believe that anymore.”

[euthymiya]

You believe in soulmates. Alhaitham does not. It’s not as though he loves you any less for his beliefs, but he certainly doesn’t entertain your baseless theories.

You’re determined to change his mind.

“What would you do if we never met?” You ask, staring up at him with your cheek pressed against his chest.

He glances down at you, sighing as he shakes his head. Here we go, he thinks silently. “I probably wouldn’t do anything, considering I wouldn’t know you existed.”

“You wouldn’t be sad?” You frown.

“How can I be sad about something that I don’t know exists?”

“Well, you could know of me,” you insist, “just because you don’t know me doesn’t mean you don’t know I exist.”

“In that case, I probably would not do anything,” he snorts. You don’t like that answer, glaring up at him as he adds, “I wouldn’t know what I’m missing if we never met.”

“You’re a real romantic, has anyone ever told you that?” You grumble. There’s a vibration of his chuckle through his chest, right under your cheek in a soft, rhythmic feeling that you’re so used to, you think it might be familiar from another life.

Over the course of the Akademiya’s years, there have been two prominent theories that have been debunked about soulmates:

1. The law of conservation of mass-energy states that matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed—but only transformed. When a person dies, their body decomposes, breaking down into atoms that return to the earth, air, and water. These atoms then get recycled by nature, eventually becoming part of other living organisms, thus reincarnating from their previous life forms. It is possible, then, that two individuals could fundamentally be linked to reincarnate together from the same set of atoms in every lifetime.

It was later debunked by a scholar named Lamiya. Atoms themselves don’t retain information about where they’ve been or what they’ve been part of. They are interchangeable at a fundamental level, which means there is no difference between an atom in a human and a rock.

2. The heart and brain generate electromagnetic fields that extend outward from the body, with the heart’s field reaching several feet. Studies suggest these fields may be sensed by others nearby, subtly shaping feelings of comfort, attraction, and connection. It is possible that certain individuals’ frequencies may naturally align, creating a sense of harmony between electromagnetic fields, thus indicating that two individuals are naturally connected and could be labeled soulmates.

This theory was later disproven by a scholar named Dharmakirti. While human bodies do generate electromagnetic fields, there is no evidence that these fields influence interpersonal attractions or emotional resonance. Fields produced by the heart and brain are exceptionally weak and rapidly diminish with distance, making it unlikely they could be sensed or create harmony between individuals in measurable ways.

They fascinate you enough that Alhaitham pulls strings to allow you access to the archived files, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you how he scrunches his nose in distaste as he sifts through them himself.

Soulmates have no plausible evidence of existing, he argues.

Lots of things have no plausible evidence, yet they exist, you always argue back.

You like to think despite all the differences, you and Alhaitham are soulmates—that some form of you, outside of your physical bodies, exists for each other and each other alone.

You think it must be the case when your eyes seem to find his in a crowd without even trying. What are the odds that in a sea of people, they always happen to come across his by chance? And what other explanation would there be for the way he always seems to just know you’re staring at him while he sleeps every morning, waking up not too long after your eyes fall on his face in admiration? And how else would you rationalize the fact that you could tell his presence apart from anyone. You’re certain that if two bodies were standing behind you from a distance, your heart would know which one belonged to him.

Soulmates, you argue. That has to be the answer.

“I think we were always meant to meet,” you murmur quietly, tracing a finger along the pale skin of his chest. “Don’t you?”

“We’ve shared numerous classes together and have offices within within the same hall,” he states blandly, “I think the chances of not meeting would be rather improbable.”

“Or maybe,” you huff, “we were always meant to meet because we’re soulmates.”

“I think that theory has been sufficiently disproven—”

“You never know! We believe in the divine even if we’ve never seen them, haven’t we? Who’s to say Celestia aren’t fake—”

“The Archons have spoken of them multiple times, and The Gods, in fact, do exist for us to see, so I think we can trust—”

“Maybe Celestia decide soulmates,” you reason, raising a pointed brow at him, “how will you disprove that? There’s no evidence that they haven’t, and you can’t collect much evidence about them, so I think it’s safe to say that it’s possible.”

“But then it’s equally as safe to say it’s not possible by that logic, as well,” he says smugly.

“Fine,” you huff, glowering up at him through puffed cheeks, “I guess you’re just too stubborn to convince.”

“I’m not stubborn,” he argues (which he does quite stubbornly, you want to say), “I apply logic and reasoning to my theories. Which is why they are hardly disproven.”

“Do you at least think we’d be soulmates in another world if they did exist?” You ask hopefully.

He looks like he wants to argue about the likelihood of another world existing altogether—it irritates you enough that it pulls a frown on your face before you grumble a quiet forget it, shuffling out of his arms and turning away to face your back at him.

He chuckles, shaking his head. Something fond blooms in his chest, like a fresh padisarah in May.

“If,” he emphasizes as his arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush against his chest once more, “if in another world we existed where soulmates were real, then yes. I do think it would be you and I.”

“Really?” You ask quietly.

“Yes,” he whispers. Suddenly, he sounds rather sure about a theory he never even believed in the first place.

“I wonder what we’re doing in that other world,” you hum thoughtfully.

He sighs, bringing the blanket back up to cover both of your bodies and mumbles, “I would hope we’d be sleeping at a reasonable hour before a work day.”

—————

Stay tuned for them being soulmates after all in another world *wink wink* ;)

[keferon]

regarding the whole thing where jazz doesn't realize prowl's whole self is a living, feeling being... the cross-cultural miscommunication potential is also how jazz and prowl could end up in a confusing situationship. Like Jazz would probably think nothing of being super touchy, and have zero respect for personal space, because to him it's *not* touch or personal space! a pilot making his mecha hang all over another pilot's mecha is just normal military misuse-of-equipment horseplay!

(like making your mecha slap another guy's mecha on its butt is solidly funny joke territory, not sexual harrassment. if we humans had mechas in real life, this is the kind of shit the pilots would constantly be doing, lbr)

So you end up with a scenario where Prowl's making friends with this weird new guy who's always getting very close, and who is touching him a lot, and it all comes across as very intimate and flirtatious, and maybe even scandalous. Except Jazz never actually asks him out or makes a real move, and Prowl is going through all the stages of gay panic and confusion.

Just Jazz consytantly unknowingly being this huge heartbreaker tease, and Prowl is just s u f f e r i n g.

--

Imagine the accidental flirting, too! Like Jazz is super impressed by this Prowl guy's mecha, so he's trying to talk shop with the other pilot (or so he thinks).

Jazz: "Wow, that build you have is great! Really impressive detailing. Who did the work?"

Prowl, well-known cold construct, confused and oddly flattered: "Um, a factory in Petrex did my construction?"

Jazz, who has never heard of Petrex but also failed geography in high school, trying not to look dumb in front of this impressive 'pilot': "Oh, Petrex, sure! Well, they did a great job!"

Prowl, now totally convinced this guy is hitting on him, flustered: "Th--thanks?"

Jazz, who would like to have a competent partner to fight evil aliens, decides he needs to poach this pilot to work with him. So he slings his mecha's arm around the other mecha's shoulder, leans in real close: "You know, you and I would make a great team!"

Prowl: *crashes from full blown gay panic*

--

Sorry for spamming your ask box with so much brain rot but holy shit do I love all the potential of the AU you came up with, I can't stop thinking about it, I had to shake some of these ideas out of my brain to share!

Yes yes ABSOLUTELY YES

Also the fact that for pilots opening the chest plates is the same as open a door but for Cybertronians it means MARRY ME RIGHT NOW ahahahaha

(Or Amica endure too. But point stands hehe it's very intimate gesture)

[archangeldyke-all]

Do you remember that scene in season one when Sevika dusted off the chair for that guy with the lighter. I feel like it would be really cute if Sevika did that everytime reader sat down. Like readers across the bar and about to sit down Sev just becomes a track star

CUTE okay i'm just gonna do a whole list of cute little gentlewomanly things she does like this hehehe

men and minors dni

sevika prides herself on treating you right and making it obvious to everybody that you're hers.

so she's borderline obsessive about a few things in your relationship.

for one thing. you are not allowed to open doors for yourself-- not if you're with sevika. (not even if you're leaving in the apartment early morning while she's still sleeping-- sevika will bitch at you for not waking her up all night if you don't nudge her awake to make her come get the door for you.)

anytime you go shopping-- whether it's for groceries or new shoes-- sevika tags along just to help you lug home your bags. (she refuses to let you hold even one. u know that tweet that's like i reached out to grab some grocery bags from my gf and she just moved them all to one hand to hold my hand? that's sevika.) this also means that if you wear a purse or carry a tote bag with you-- sevika's carrying this for you too.

she'll also just carry your shit in her pockets. if you have a lipgloss you want to bring but not enough room to carry it, sevika's shoving it in her pants for you. at any given moment, sevika usually has something of yours shoved in her pockets-- your hair ties, your house keys, your meds... anything.

she'll always pull out chairs for you. even if she has to shout 'wait!' and sprint across the bar to pull out a stool for you-- she'll make a fool of herself wearing a goofy little grin doing just that.

she's always sitting facing the exit of whatever building you're in. she sleeps closest to the door too. she's always sure to pull you to the inside of the sidewalk, walking closest to the street.

you never have to light your own joints or cigarettes around her. sevika's always carefully sparking her lighter at the end of your smoke, sparking you up before she lights her own.

you're the only person in the world sevika lets sit next to her while she plays cards.

and she practically forces her poncho on you if she even suspects that you might be cold.

and no matter how drunk she gets with the gang at the last drop, sevika always insists that she walk you home. even if it's more like you're dragging her wobbily ass down the streets, laughing as she tries to flirt with you on your way back to your shared apartment.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @lavandasz

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[katiascraft]

“If I define her I limit her” | CL16

Parings: Charles Leclerc x Actrees!Gf!Reader.

Summary: you go together to the Gladiator || premier because your best friend Paul Mescal invited you. You didn’t expect Charles being so sweet talking about you on interviews.

Word count: +1k.

Warnings: none! Just fluff and more fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: I HAD TO DO IT. so I was inspired not only by Charles looking breathtakingly beautiful but from Chino Darin I LOVE THAT MAN 🫦 now I gotta go back to study UNLIVE ME Don’t forget to like, reblog, comment! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

You were so excited to assist at the premier of the movie your fav person alive aka your bestie aka paul mescal was starring in. He invented the ferrari boys alongside you. Everything was so elegant - you were lucky enough to be wearing a high fashion valentino black dress - you felt a little intimidated like every time you stepped on a red carpet. Of course, you are an actress but still couldn't get used to this side that is part of your job.

Charles holded your hand gently at the red carpet while you were walking into the people circulating there. Behind you were Carlos and rebecca. But when you say Gracie - paul´s girlfriend - you part ways to say hi. Unfortunately Charles couldn't go with you because a reporter asked him and Carlos to join for a brief interview.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Looking good as ever i can see” the reporter said causing charles to giggle a little.

“What can I say ? We sweat all year so it's good to smell good once in a while,” Charles said, making the reporter laugh along with carlos. He asked a few generic questions about the break until the last three races of the championships and the invitation and expectations for the movie.

“So Charles, what's your favorite thing about london?” the reporter asked, making Charles smile but he didn't have to think about it.

“To be honest, my wife” he said grinning, making Carlos giggle a little looking at him. He has love written all over his face.

“How romantic, is she your wife already?” The reporter moved the microphone closer thinking he had breaking news. Charles laughed, nodding.

“I mean , not yet but she will, of course” he answered nervously and blushing like a little kid in love. That's the effect you had on him.

“How wonderful it is for you to say your favorite thing about London is your girlfriend. How would you define her as a person or professional?” the reporter was just as in love with him probably as you were.

“Oh well, if i define her i limit her to be honest. She is amazing at everything she does. As a person and as a professional” Charles answered without thinking. He couldn't define you, how could he? You were this huge force that made him feel things he didn't even know he could feel. You were so powerful in his eyes. Magical. He couldn't define you because defying you would be an actual crime. You're bigger than everything.

“Oh mate” Carlos expressed, making Charles giggle.

“What a lovebird, did y/n come with you?” the reporter continued.

“yeah yeah i don't know exactly where she is now but somewhere around here. We were invited thanks to her to be honest,” Charles explained.

“Lets see if we can find her in a minute.so carlos…” the interviewer followed with some questions around Carlos now. Charles listened to him but his mind was on you. He looked around looking for you just to see you. He spotted you after a few minutes talking lively with Grace and he smiled to himself. You looked so beautiful and happy.

You started going your way after a little chat with Gracie and found charles and carlos along with rebecca on a corner waiting for you. You walked across the carpet straight to them. When Charles saw you coming his face lightened up in adoration.

“Hey gang, let's go” you said happily, taking Charles hand in yours. So you found your way into the carpet. Flashes met you when you entered the photo section. You posed with Charles smiling for the cameras. Everyone screaming your names for your attention so they could get a picture of you. You still got nervous with this. But having him next to you just made everything better. You felt more relaxed. More secure and confident.

When you finished the photo section another round of reporters was set. This time you knew you couldn't escape. A reporter a few feet away from you called you so you looked at Charles to check if he wanted to join or wait but he confidently followed you along.

“Good evening guys, how are you feeling about tonight?” she asked firstly. You smiled. Charles let you answer he knew you were the star tonight. And also, this was not his element.

“We're excited. I'm anxious to watch the movie already. I know it's gonna be amazing” you said sweetly gently stroking charles hand with you to calm your nerves and his. It's probably the first time you are being interviewed together.

“y/n i dont know if you heard but charles” she started talking to you but then directed to charles “ you mentioned she was your wife and couldn't define her because i quote if i define her i limit her. She is just amazing in everything she does. y/n what do you have to say?” she asked you. You looked at Charles in a sweet simple surprise but flustered. Your thoughts all over the place and your cheeks turned red.

“Oh wow, what can I say? I have the best husband in the world that's for sure” you said proudly making him giggle. “And I can say I love him and I'm so glad he's here with me. But I couldn't define him either. He is everything and more to me” your answer made charles smile so proudly and fondly. His eyes went crystal looking at you. He was so in love with you. Just as you were. He was the love of your life and you loved that you could be yourself with him with no filters and this life that was as complicated as his.

“Oh wow, such lovebirds! You guys need to win couple of the year!” she said excitedly, making you both giggle and thanked her to start walking again.

“Babe you really said that? I want to cry, you can't be so cute. I love you with every fiber on my body. Stop being so perfect it should be a crime” you made him laugh looking at you so enamored.

“Of course, cherie. You are the most amazing person I know and I admire you so much. Im proud of you” he said to lean over you and kissed you gently.

“I love you charlie. You're the best that ever happened to me” you responded in his lips and giggled.

You will need to fix your lipstick before the next interview.

[theonottsbxtch]

MISS YOU BABY | MV1

an: i need a hug from max verstappen stat, based off this request! thank you for sending it :)

summary: max thought his girlfriend was missing his final race during his triple header, little did he know she'd planned to come and visit all along.

wc 3.6k

The hotel room she was in was quiet.

She sat cross-legged on the bed in a dark hotel room that mirrored his, only three floors below, making sure he couldn’t see her surroundings. Her phone was propped up against a pillow, and Max’s face filled the screen, his hair still damp from the shower, tousled and messy. He looked worn-out but managed a small, tired smile just for her.

"I’m sorry, Max. I really tried to get time off, but there was just… no way," she said, the fib slipping from her lips with surprising ease. "I wanted to be there with you. Especially now."

Max exhaled, leaning back against his headboard. “I know. It’s alright.” His voice softened. “I just miss you, is all. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek, wishing she could reach through the screen and wrap her arms around him. "You’ll get through it, though. You always do."

"Doesn’t feel that way." He laughed, but it was brittle around the edges. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. The team, the fans… you.” His eyes searched the screen, as if he might find a solution hidden somewhere in her gaze.

"Never me." She leaned closer, her face so near to the camera that she could see her reflection in his eyes. "I’m so proud of you, Max. Always. No matter what."

For a moment, he just looked at her, his expression softening, and the tension she’d seen in his face for days seemed to melt, just a little. "I wish you were here," he murmured. "I swear, you’re the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes."

She swallowed, feeling her heart pull toward him with a force that was hard to resist. "Soon, I’ll be back with you. Just… hold on a bit longer, okay?”

She gazed at his face on the screen, her heart swelling as she watched the way his eyes softened every time he looked at her. She knew he was tired and worn down, but in this moment, he looked at peace.

"I love you, Max," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him, and when he opened them again, there was a warmth there that seemed to cut through the miles between them. "I love you, too," he replied, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "More than you know."

She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling her cheeks flush, and nodded. "Get some sleep, alright? Big day tomorrow."

He grinned. "Yeah, yeah. You, too. Dream about me, okay?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes, but her heart skipped all the same. "Always. Goodnight, Max."

"Goodnight, love."

With a final smile, she ended the call, letting the screen go dark as she leaned back into the pillows, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She’d hardly been able to sleep on the plane ride here, and she could already tell tonight would be the same.

Still, the thought of finally seeing him in person tomorrow kept her too giddy to care. She’d surprise him at the track, slipping through the garage just as he arrived, or maybe even at breakfast if she could manage it without spoiling the surprise. Her mind spun with ideas, each more elaborate than the last, but all she really wanted was to see his face light up when he realised she was there.

Pulling the covers up to her chin, she let her eyes drift closed, replaying the moment over and over in her mind, savouring the thought of his reaction. She loved him fiercely, and she knew that being here—no matter how much of a secret she’d had to make it—was exactly where she was supposed to be.

As she finally began to drift off, her last thought was simple but bright, shining like a promise: Tomorrow, he’ll know.

And while she was glad she held onto the secret.

The following morning she wished she’d told him earlier.

She woke to the faint glow of her phone on the nightstand, her morning alarm. Blinking herself awake, she squinted at the screen and saw Max’s name, followed by the time—5:02 a.m.

Heading to the track early today. Miss you already, wish you were here.

She smiled, feeling that familiar warmth spreading through her chest. But then her heart sank a little. She’d been hoping to catch him in the hotel this morning, maybe surprise him over breakfast. Now, with him already gone, she'd have to adjust her plans.

Throwing back the covers, she got up and went to the window. Rain streaked down the glass in thick, heavy drops, and the sky was a murky grey. The weather was only supposed to get worse throughout the day; she knew that’d make things complicated, especially for an outdoor track. She had no clue if her surprise would even be worth the stress of navigating the drenched, crowded paddock.

After a moment’s hesitation, she tapped her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she reached the name she wanted. She dialled, and after a few rings, Max’s assistant, Sophie, picked up.

“Hey!” Sophie greeted, sounding pleasantly surprised. “What’s up? Did you make it in?”

“Yes, I’m here!” she whispered, unable to contain her excitement. “I wanted to surprise him before he heads out on track, but with this rain… do you think I should even bother?”

Sophie sighed sympathetically. “Honestly, it’s a mess out here. They’re saying the rain’s going to be even heavier by the time qualifying starts. He’ll be in back-to-back meetings until then, and I’d hate for you to sit in the rain, just to get a few minutes with him.”

She nodded, glancing out the window at the sheets of rain. “So you think I should wait?”

“I’d say hold off until right before the race,” Sophie replied. “He’ll have a short break, and I think he’d love the surprise then. Plus, everyone’s less frantic between qualifying and race prep.”

“Good point,” she agreed, a little disappointed but knowing Sophie was right. The track on a rainy race day was chaos, and if she could avoid it until the right moment, she’d have a better chance of actually spending time with him. “Thanks, Sophie. Let me know if anything changes?”

“Will do! He’ll be so happy to see you,” Sophie said warmly. “Hang tight, okay?”

As she hung up, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement, knowing the surprise would be even more perfect with the wait. So she ordered herself a coffee, sat by the window, and watched the rain pour down, imagining the look on Max’s face when he’d finally see her just before the most important race of the weekend.

The rain hadn’t let up by the time she arrived at the track, the skies dark and moody, the air thick with humidity. She’d navigated her way through security and weaving lines of drenched fans, her heart racing as she got closer to Max’s garage. But by the time she finally made it, he was already in the car, helmet on, visor down, his focus entirely on the track ahead.

Her heart sank a little as she scanned the bustling garage, hoping for some last chance to catch his eye. But he was already strapped in, a crew member leaning in to give him a final check before he rolled out. She spotted Sophie in the corner, scribbling something down on a clipboard, and made her way over to her.

“Hey,” she whispered, feeling the dampness of the rain still clinging to her hair and clothes. “I… I just missed him, didn’t I?”

Sophie looked up and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, he was swamped the moment he got here. They barely had time to get him settled with all the delays.” She gestured to the grid display above them, where Max’s name glowed beside the stark “P17” position. “Rough start, but he’ll be glad to know you’re here.”

She nodded, feeling a pang as she glanced at his car just as it rumbled to life. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, even from a distance she could see the tension there. She let out a breath, feeling a swell of pride and worry all at once. “Well, I’ll be here watching, then.”

Sophie handed her a headset, which she slipped on just in time to hear his engineer’s voice crackle through with the first instructions as they prepared for the start. The rain was relentless, turning the track into a slick, treacherous maze, and she felt her stomach twist as the cars peeled out onto the track for the formation lap. Max’s car trailed near the back, but she knew he’d fight, as he always did, with a ferocity she both admired and feared in moments like this.

The race began, a chaotic blur of spray and metal, the cars kicking up rooster tails of water, visibility nearly zero as they fought for position. She gripped the edge of her seat as the laps ticked by, heart pounding with every close call. It quickly became clear that the conditions were only worsening, drivers struggling to keep their cars on track, a few even skidding off into barriers with loud, bone-jarring crashes. Her hands tightened around the headset as Max navigate his way forward, battling his way to P10, then P6.

And then, just when the tension seemed to reach its peak, there was a deafening crash, followed by a sudden hush as the red flag went up, halting the race.

Her breath caught in her throat. The screen above replayed the incident—a skidding into the barrier that had caused an emergency stop. The seconds felt like hours as she waited, desperately searching for a glimpse of his car on the feed. Finally, there it was, intact, safe. Relief flooded her, and she felt her shoulders sag.

The race restarted after the delay, and she watched in awe as Max took advantage of the reshuffled positions and tire changes, surging forward with a newfound intensity. Lap by lap, he clawed his way through the field, passing car after car with a precision that made her heart race. It was as if he’d transformed, harnessing every ounce of his frustration from the last few races, channelling it into something extraordinary.

The garage erupted in cheers as he moved into P3, then P1. She stared at the screen, hardly daring to blink, her heart racing as he crossed the finish line in first place, drenched in rain and glory.

She could hardly believe it. From P17 to P1. He’d done it.

Forgetting herself, she laughed, a sound of pure joy, her heart swelling as she watched him slow down, the victory finally sinking in. She couldn't wait to see his face when he finally realised she was here, to be the first person he’d see when he stepped out of that car, soaked and grinning, finally at the top.

Ripping her headset off, she followed the crew as they ran out to parc fermé, her heart racing as fast as the roar of the crowd. The team, buzzing with excitement, parted slightly as she joined them, nudging her to the front so she’d be the first face he saw. She could barely breathe as she caught sight of Max’s car, now still, the rain glistening on its blue-and-red bodywork.

With all the force he had he climbed out, pulling off his helmet to reveal damp, messy hair and a face lit up with exhilaration and disbelief. For a moment, he simply stood there, taking in the shouts of the crowd and the blinding flashes of cameras. And then, his gaze landed on her.

His eyes widened, his exhaustion and surprise giving way to pure joy. Without hesitation, he broke into a run, crossing the slick tarmac with the kind of speed and determination that made her heart leap. She barely had a second to react before he wrapped her in his arms, his lips crashing against hers as he pulled her close, his hands pressed firmly against her back, as if he still couldn’t believe she was real.

“You came,” he murmured breathlessly, pulling back just enough to look at her, his face filled with awe and happiness.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she replied, her voice trembling with emotion, brushing a wet strand of hair from his face.

He smiled, a bright, unguarded smile that melted her heart. “God, I needed this. I needed you.”

And then he kissed her again, a kiss filled with all the missed moments and the words they hadn’t been able to say, the thrill of his victory mingling with the fierce love they shared. She felt the rain soak through her clothes, the crowd and the noise around them fading as they held each other, his arms wrapping around her as if he could protect her from the rest of the world.

“I still can’t believe it,” he whispered against her lips, his forehead resting against hers, his hand gently brushing her cheek. “P1. And you’re here.”

She laughed softly, her eyes shining. “You deserve it, Max. I knew you could do it.”

He held her close, a triumphant laugh bubbling from his chest as he buried his face in her neck, and they stood there in the pouring rain, lost in each other, savouring the victory and this long-awaited moment they both knew they’d never forget.

As the noise of the cheering crew and fans started to swell around them, Max pulled back slightly, brushing his thumb across her cheek, his gaze lingering on her face as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

“I have to go,” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. “The interviews, cool-down room, podium… but wait for me? I’ll meet you in my driver’s room as soon as I can.”

She nodded, understanding but already missing the warmth of his arms. “I’ll be waiting. Go,” she whispered, giving him a small smile. “Enjoy every second—you deserve it.”

He pressed one last, lingering kiss to her forehead, then turned and jogged off to join the waiting crew, helmet in hand, while she stayed rooted to her spot, watching him disappear into the crowd. Her heart swelled with pride as she trailed after the team to watch his interviews, his beaming, breathless face glowing with pride and energy as he spoke about the gruelling conditions and the unbelievable climb from P17 to P1.

Then came the cool-down room, where she watched from the sidelines as he bantered with the other drivers, sharing exhausted smiles and congratulatory claps on the back, the weight of his achievement settling in as he finally let himself relax a little. She couldn’t help but smile, feeling as though she could burst with joy just watching him, his eyes sparking with energy even as he looked ready to collapse from exhaustion.

And finally, the podium. She felt the crowd’s excitement echo through her as she looked up to see him standing tall, drenched from head to toe, a bottle of champagne in hand. When he raised it in victory, the crowd erupted, and she joined them, cheering at the top of her lungs as he sprayed champagne with abandon, laughing as he celebrated with the other drivers. His eyes swept over the crowd, and when they found hers, he gave a subtle nod, a silent promise that he’d be back with her soon.

After the podium, she made her way to his driver’s room, her heart fluttering as she paced the small space, the thrill of the day lingering in every fibre of her being. And then, finally, the door swung open, and there he was.

He looked completely worn out, his hair still damp and messy, his fireproof undersuit clinging to his skin. But his smile was bright, and his eyes lit up the moment he saw her.

Without a word, he crossed the room, pulling her into his arms, his lips finding hers in a soft, exhausted kiss. She melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he held her close, the adrenaline and joy from his victory radiating between them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he whispered against her ear, his voice low and hoarse. “Winning today… and having you here with me. It’s everything.”

She brushed a strand of damp hair from his face, smiling as she traced her fingers along his cheek. “You did it, Max. I’m so proud of you.”

He took her hand, pressing it to his heart, his eyes never leaving hers. “None of it would mean anything without you,” he said quietly, his voice steady.

She felt her eyes sting with tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his words. “I’m here,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be here.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world slipping away. He stroked her hair, pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, as if savouring each moment.

“Let’s get out of here,” he finally murmured, his voice warm and soft, “celebrate somewhere a little less chaotic.”

She laughed, nodding. “Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

They headed back to his hotel, hand in hand, a peaceful quiet settling over them as they left the track behind. Once in the privacy of his suite, he gave her a lingering kiss, then smiled, nodding toward the bathroom. “Give me a few minutes to wash off all the champagne and… probably half the track dust,” he said with a laugh.

She grinned, watching as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the suite a moment later. While he showered, she took the opportunity to pack up her things from her own room, gathering her scattered belongings quickly. The thrill of being close, of finally sharing a space for the night, filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the tropical heat outside.

By the time she returned, he was out of the shower, towelling off his damp hair, his expression softening as he took in the sight of her standing there with her things. Without a word, he crossed the room and took her bags from her hands, setting them by the closet as he gave her a smile that made her heart skip.

Once they’d both changed into fresh clothes—she’d opted for a simple dress, and he in casual jeans and a loose shirt—they slipped out of the hotel through a side exit, making their way to a tiny, tucked-away Brazilian restaurant that had been recommended. The place was hidden, small enough to be missed by the crowds, with soft, low lighting that created an intimate, cosy atmosphere. A few locals lingered around tables, but they paid little attention to the couple as they took a corner table in the back.

They ordered caipirinhas and he reached across the table to hold her hand, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her skin as they laughed over silly little things, shared stories from the past few weeks, and spoke of things beyond racing, beyond work, just slipping back into the easy flow they always shared. The food was rich and delicious—small plates of feijoada, grilled meats, and pão de queijo—everything flavorful and homey.

He leaned across the table, his eyes warm and filled with that familiar spark, as he watched her speak, clearly savouring every moment. “You know,” he said softly, “I think this is the best victory celebration I’ve ever had.”

She squeezed his hand, smiling back at him. “Same here. I missed just… being with you like this.”

They stayed until the restaurant closed, lingering over the last bites of dessert, letting the night stretch out as long as possible. Eventually, they headed back to the hotel, the city streets now quiet and still beneath the soft hum of streetlights.

Once back in his room, Max changed into a pair of soft pyjama bottoms, leaving his chest bare, his skin still warm from the shower. She slipped into one of his t-shirts, the fabric soft and oversized, the scent of him comforting and familiar. When she stepped out the bathroom, he was already waiting for her by the bed, his gaze softening as he took her in, a gentle smile curving on his lips.

Without a word, he reached for her, lacing his fingers through hers as he pulled her close, guiding her to the bed. She sank into the mattress beside him, and he wrapped an arm around her, drawing her against his chest, his fingertips trailing absently over her shoulder. She nestled into him, feeling his warmth seep through her, a cosy silence wrapping around them.

They lay there, tangled together, her head tucked beneath his chin as he gently traced circles on her back, his breath even and steady. He tilted her chin up, his eyes searching hers for a quiet moment before he leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss, filled with a tenderness that said everything words couldn’t. She kissed him back just as gently, savouring the intimacy of being close like this, the world beyond these walls feeling miles away.

When the kiss ended, he pressed his forehead to hers, a soft sigh escaping as he held her close, one hand settling over hers, fingers intertwined. They stayed that way, her head resting against his heartbeat, lulled by the steady rhythm.

Finally, they drifted off, still tangled in each other’s arms, wrapped up in the warmth and comfort of just being together. As the night settled around them, Max couldn’t help but smile, holding her a little closer as he slipped into sleep, his heart full and light.

Max couldn’t have wished for a better weekend.

the end.

[dailymanners]

Tips and ideas for how to respond when someone is being rude to you

For personal reasons I won't get into, I have a history of just freezing when some is rude / hostile / aggressive / condescending / patronizing / etc. It's obviously not something I'm happy about at all, most people who freeze or fawn aren't happy about it and would change it if they could.

One day I confided in my co-worker, a middle aged woman in her 50's, that this is something I struggle with. Considering how confident and assertive she always struck me as, I was shocked when she told me this is also something she's struggled with.

The advice she gave me is to just memorize and practice a few broad statements or reactions that you can pull out of your pocket so to speak when someone is being rude or disrespectful to you. It's not easy if you're someone who's been conditioned to freeze or fawn, but practice helps. Practice saying these things when you're alone. Put up a sticky note next to your bed or on your bathroom mirror with these phrases and practice them when you see them. Practice saying these with a partner or trusted friend, role-play scenarios where you might need to use these phrases.

Here's a few phrases that have worked for me. The nice thing about them is that they tend to shut down the situation rather than escalating, while still letting the aggressor know that you don't find their behavior acceptable.

"Are you okay?"

This works well in professional settings, because it's not like your work place's residential bully can run to HR about you asking if they're okay (but they might if you try to retaliate and give them a taste of their own medicine). However, it still effectively sends the message "I think there's something wrong with your behavior and don't accept it". It's also not likely the response they're expecting, so it'll likely throw them off and prevent further verbal aggression.

"Could you repeat that for me? I didn't catch what you said."

This one is most effective for people you believe to actually have a conscious and might regret what they said if they actually thought about it a little more. I find that often when I do this one, when people repeat the rude/snippy/patronizing/etc thing they either shamefully stumble over their words and show some remorse, or they change altogether what they say. In the off chance they don't regret what they said and end up repeating exactly what they said, this at least buys you some time to think of a better reaction since you're no longer caught off guard by a sudden rude and snippy remark.

"Can you explain what you mean by that?"

Similar logic to the last one. Often when people are being rude/snippy/patronizing/etc they're caught up in their own emotions in that moment and didn't think it through. This is a polite and civil way of putting their rude behavior in the spotlight and making them reconsider what they said. The other advantage to this one is that in case you did misread their intentions and they meant no harm by what they said or did, this gives them an opportunity to clarify that, instead of you just feeling bad over a statement or actions they actually had no ill intentions with.

If anyone has any further examples of reactions / responses / statements that have worked for them, I'd love to hear about them. I'm new to studying the art of how to civilly yet effectively shut down bad behavior from others, so I'm always open to hearing more suggestions.

[do-you-have-a-flag]

Text recounting of the full events below but oh my god please watch this person explain the wildest thing happening to them

[image text]r/trueoffmychest post by CptnSpaceCase

Today my aide cooked what should not be cooked

I have to get this out, because today feels like an actual nightmare I keep expecting to wake up from.

I'm disabled, and need help with stuff around the house. Today was the second day with a new agency and new home health aide, "Tina." I set it up so she would come by in the morning while I'm sleeping (insomnia is killer), and I texted her last night what I would need done today.

One of those things was to roast some precut squash I'd gotten so I could have it with my salads and pasta. I was very clear in my instructions: what it looked like, where it was in the fridge, how to use the oven, how to cook it. I also have a roommate who was up and told her she could ask them for help if she couldn't find anything. Or come get me if truly necessary.

Now, I have three pet ball pythons. They eat rats that I thaw from frozen in the fridge in a reusable plastic bag. Yes, that's where I'm going with this.

Tina couldn't find the squash, and so, obviously, that meant she should roast the first other thing she could see that was technically also encased in plastic, in a completely different area of the fridge. The FUCKING RATS. In butter and salt, in my nice baking dish.

And like, that's insane all on its own, but if you're going to cook any animal, you should at least clean and skin it first, right??? Like, do the crazy, disgusting thing properly so I can respect the effort, instead of sticking them in as is. Fur and guts and all.

And the smell. Good God baby Jesus the SMELL. It woke me up and had me gagging the moment I opened my bedroom door. Definitely not squash. Or food-smelling for that matter. At first I thought the squash had spontaneously rotted overnight and she'd tried to cook it anyway. That would have been slightly less insane and much preferable.

I had to pull it out of her what she was cooking instead when she said she couldn't find it (it was in plain sight), had to open the oven and see my snakes' dinners in place of my own and still couldn't process what the fuck was happening, what I was looking at and smelling. I don't like yelling at people and generally avoid it. Today was a day for exceptions. And at the end of my half-crazed, dissociative rant, I told her to get the whole dish and its contents and herself out of the fucking house. And to not come back.

Suffice to say, I've contacted the agency to report it and am requesting a new aide. Now I'm sitting at a cafe trying to calm down and eat something despite the scent memory that's taken up permanent residence and turning my stomach. The whole house reeks like musty, sewage-dipped pork that had been left out for a whole day before being cooked in rancid oil, and I'm not sure Febreeze is gonna cut it. I don't want to go home. 🫠😭

[alchemistc]

He's drunk when he sends it. Pissed because Buck won't just let this die. Tired of seeing his name flash across his screen, texts full of anger and sadness and hurt.

I suspect you've already met your last and it's not me he sends, and then turns off his phone and reaches for the bottle of whiskey on his top shelf.

---

If he'd been sober he would have known better. It's not even like it's been a pervasive thought - just an inkling at the start of things that seemed to be completely off base once he got to know everyone better, but looking back... He can see it. The built in life. The steadfast support. The knowledge that they'd always, always have each other's back. The kid who hero worshipped him.

The thing is he's fielding texts from Eddie, too, checking in and then circling around to being so goddamn judgmental that it's like they've coordinated their attacks to give Tommy no room to breathe.

He ended it to save himself from slipping so far under the surface he wouldn't make it back.

The fact that he's lost them both to his own fear is icing on the cake for the demon on his shoulder that keeps trying to remind him that once upon a time he'd fully thought Eddie and Buck were amicable exes.

---

He has to blink to figure out who's standing on his doorstep. The mustache is gone.

"If you meant who I think you mean, you're dumber than you look," Eddie says, and shoulders past Tommy before Tommy can even muster an affronted expression.

Tommy wanders after Eddie into his own kitchen, immediately annoyed that he looks more at home there than Tommy has felt in weeks. He'd gotten used to the loft - the space, the echoes, the lights of the city. The smell of his own aftershave on Buck's pillow.

They never spent much time here. The loft was closer - to Harbor, to the 118, to all the things in the city that tempted them out for a night. And staying at the loft meant he wouldn't have the echoes of Buck in every room, around every corner. (The echoes are in him, instead, and he still feels the absence like a lanced wound.) Tommy has always been good at making other people think he's good at putting distance between himself and them.

Eddie digs in a drawer, pulls out the bottle opener shaped like a cow and pops two tops. Holds one out for Tommy and scowls when Tommy wrinkles his nose at the Corona.

"Absolutely screw you if you think I'm driving halfway across town for you just to get the ones you like, right now."

Tommy can't argue that. He takes a drag and swallows. Stares. Is everyone else experiencing whiplash seeing him without the mustache? It looks fine but it'd taken so much fucking work to get used to it and now it's just gone. Clean shaven, an acre of skin he hasn't seen in months.

Tommy blinked and the entire world was different. Tommy freaked and the world changed.

"What are you doing here?"

Eddie's eyebrows both lift, a frank Are You Fucking Serious look on his face that makes Tommy want to take him to the mats and have it out in the garage instead of over beers.

"Buck may be spinning his wheels trying to figure out what the fuck you meant but I know damn well what you were implying."

That seems unlikely. Eddie always seems to be the last person to have a single clue what was going on, with Buck scraping in just before him. It's a tight race.

He used to find it charming.

(He absolutely does not still find it charming, he tells his heart, and wonders if he could hire some tiny asshole gnome to go stomp around in an atrium or two and get it to stop doing what it's doing. Fucking traitor.)

"Do you actually believe that, or is it some dumb excuse because you're terrified of being happy?"

Oh, that's fucking rich.

Tommy opens his mouth to tell him exactly that but Eddie just steamrolls right by him. "You don't have to point out the hypocrisy, jackass. I'm well aware of my own issues. Thing is - you're like, almost right. Buck does make me happy. Next to Chris there's no one else in the world I'd rather have by my side, rain or shine, good or bad. I love him. He's my person."

Tommy rolls his jaw. It's not a vindication to hear it.

"Except I'm not gay, Tommy. And I don't want that. I never have. And neither does Buck, just in case that argument was about to hit the airwaves."

"How do you know?"

Something sparks in the back of Eddie's eyes. Understanding. Triumph.

"You want an itemized list or a demonstration?"

Which is when Tommy knows he's stepped into an absolute minefield. No markers. Just free balling his way through a conversation that could explode with even the slightest pressure.

Eddie's got his phone out.

None of this is ideal.

When he looks up, his eyes land squarely on Tommy, who would like in this moment to be able to curl so far in on himself he gets sucked clean through the other side. "First of all, Buck may have just been improvising his entire journey of sexuality but for once I was trying to get ahead of the curve so that whole starry-eyed newly not straight vision you have of Buck is bullshit. You let him pull you along by the shirt strings for months without pressing pause and then you freak out when he thinks his speed and your speed are the same speed?"

This is feeling a whole lot like an ambush, now.

"Did you ever even try to slow him down?"

Tommy has some choice words that aren't remotely appropriate to say to someone who is at least tangentially still his friend, so he takes another swig of shitty beer. God, this shit is awful.

"You wanna know how I know I'm not his one? How I know he's not mine?"

Tommy really, really doesn't. Honestly he'd like to kick him out.

"Because he went at our friendship at the same warp speed pace he took your relationship and it never fucking scared me."

Proof in the pudding, for Tommy. He's not the sort of jackass who actually thinks he can make a different judgement call on someone else's sexuality than the one they've made themselves, but come on.

"Shannon's been dead for half a decade," Eddie says, voice dropping so suddenly Tommy feels it like an icy draft. "And maybe one day I'll make my peace with that. Maybe one day I'll get out from under it. The point is I've lost them both and the loss wasn't the goddamn same."

"Buck came back," Tommy argues.

Eddie scoffs. Wrinkles his nose. "Jeez, he wasn't kidding about how weird that sounds." His phone buzzes on the countertop, and Tommy wonders what the hell that look on his face means. "Don't change the subject. I'm not here to talk you into anything. I'm just here to drink a beer with you and tell you how goddamn stupid it is to think that an uncertain future with Evan Buckley isn't worth every second of terror it causes you."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do."

Eddie tips the bottle against his lips. Swallows. God, why hadn't Tommy just pursued the self-proclaimed straight guy for a couple weeks before he scratched the itch somewhere else and kept a friend, instead?

"Maybe." Eddie tips his head. "Maybe I do, though. Maybe in the months and months you were invited to all my mopey nights in with Buck and all the crazy crap we end up involved in at the station and all the times you couldn't shut up about him when he wasn't around and all the times I got to see you falling ass over teakettle for my best friend, I learned a fucking thing or two about Tommy Kinard." He wags his head back and forth. "Maybe."

"Is there a point to this?"

Eddie tips his eyes to his phone, and it's probably too late at this point for the suspicion to begin to creep in.

"I mostly just came to confront you about your completely off base bullshit excuses, but there's actually a pretty simple solution to at least one of your multitude of issues, so. Now we're waiting."

Tommy doesn't like the sound of that at all.

"Chris is mad at you, by the way."

It's a distraction. It's fully a - "Why is he mad at me?"

"I should actually thank you, because it's the first time he's actively talked to me in months," Eddie continues, like Tommy hadn't asked a question. "He's pissed because Buck is sad and there's literally nothing in the world that gets a rise out of the Diaz boys like sad Buck."

"You can just say you're pissed at me and go, Eddie."

"Oh I'm angry. Don't think I'm not. Mostly I'm just sad for you. You had six months to get to know Buck and never thought to yourself 'hes going to love me and it's going to hurt' until he skipped too far ahead in the program."

And that's - kind of the final straw. He's let Eddie get his licks in. He deserves it, he knows he does. Honestly it's a little cathartic to hear - to know exactly what Buck has spent his time dissecting post-Tommy. "That's all I ever thought about. Do you think I didn't know going in? I tried to put a stop to it before it even started and he just doubled down! Do you think for a second I wasn't viscously aware that I was setting myself up for -."

No. He's not gonna say it. He's not giving that to Eddie when he couldn't even give it to Ev-Buck. When he couldn't give it to Buck.

Eddie looks victorious anyway.

"And for six months you thought it was worth it."

"For six months I was too much of a coward to stop thinking about it."

Eddie drains the rest of his beer. "I'm not gonna lie. You screwed up pretty bad. Like. Astronomically bad. Giving up your location in a firefight bad."

Tommy does everything he can not to wince.

"It's salvageable, though. If you want it to be. If there's anything I know about Buck it's that second chances are his bread and butter." He's been dancing around saying anything of substance about Buck's feelings, in all of this, but the hints are there. As if the bouts of angry-depressive texts from Buck weren't clue enough.

"And what if it's not what I want?"

Eddie's eyes dart to his phone one more time. "Then you can make it a clean break in about ... three and a half minutes."

Tommy nearly tosses his beer across the room.

[korrasera]

Unfortunately, this post and posts like it misunderstand what it means to say that the Democrats abandoned the working class.

Because they did.

And no, the working class didn't abandon the Democrats.

I'll explain.

First, the list of the accomplishments of the Biden administration is a long one and it's absolutely true they weren't getting the coverage they deserved. That's a true point, and a good one, but it's not not how the Democrats abandoned the working class.

Next, the working class didn't abandon the Democrats. The working class voters that always vote Republican voted Republican because voters don't switch sides and they weren't up for grabs, no matter what a Democrat strategist thought.

Of the working class voters that vote Democrat, they didn't abandon the Democrats, the Democrats took them for granted and didn't give them a reason to vote to support Harris. And it is very important to give people a reason to vote.

Some didn't vote because they wouldn't vote for a woman, because bigotry is everywhere.

Some people didn't vote because support for an incumbent party drops when the economy is doing poorly. Despite the Biden administration giving us a soft landing that avoided a recession, income inequality is up globally and for the average person, that means the economy sucks right now.

But that's not how the Democrats abandoned the working class either.

The Democrats abandoned the working class because they squandered the initial surge of enthusiasm for Harris's announcement by following it up with:

A campaign that focused on Trump's threat.

An emphasis on trying to court Republican voters.

Basically no real messaging about what the Democrats would do to try to help the working class voters survive right now.

They didn't talk about the minimum wage or support for unions. Even with the Biden administrations support of unions, which was surprisingly good for a US presidential administration.

It was great to finally hear someone say that Trump and JD Vance were weird, but that's just an appetizer. It's not the entire meal.

Do you see what's missing? Democrats can't win on the idea that the other guy is a threat. They need to run on the things they can do to make everything better. And they need to do so with specifics, not aspirational messaging.

Harris's speeches talked about the need to cut taxes for the middle class, but didn't get into specifics. She didn't talk about solid policy positions. The Democrats weren't giving any answers on what to do about the next Trump or the next Bezos or the oligarch that decides they want half of everyone's paycheck.

They didn't talk about how they were going to take the boot off our necks.

In hindsight, some of this should have been easy:

"Vote for me and I will eliminate student debt!" "Vote for me and I will make the minimum wage a livable wage!" "Vote for me and I will stop evictions and fix housing!"

Even if they weren't going to keep those promises, talking about them with specific plans is what people needed to hear and it's exactly what people didn't.

And while they weren't talking to the working class Democrats and their needs, they were going after wealthy donors and Republican voters, which made those working class voters feel like the Democrats were taking them for granted.

After all, why do you need to speak to someone's needs if you know that they're going to vote for you? You're their only option, right? Makes sense when you think like a Republican, but people who vote Democrat do so because they don't think like Republicans. The Republicans follow the leader while the Democrats build coalitions.

Finally, if anti-trans ads were a pivotal factor in Harris's loss, then you would have seen Trump's support increase. It didn't. He stayed flat, the Republican base supported him just like they were always going to. He was always going to be able to use fear and bigotry to motivate them.

Don't get me wrong, Trump is absolutely trying to stoke a full blown moral panic against trans people. And his hateful message galvanized his base. But if it hadn't been us it would have been immigrants. Or another kind of queer folk. Or socialists. They will never want for an enemy because they're afraid of literally everyone not like themselves.

The Harris campaign failed because the Democrats played bad politics when they needed to bring their A game.

They needed to give Democrat voters real answers about real help. They needed to give people a reason to vote. And they didn't.

dropping this here

[kaidasdesires]

“Your Eyes Only.” : Heeseung

☾ grouping: Heeseung x afab reader

☾ rating: 18+, explicit content

☾ wc: 7.6k

☾ content warnings: aphrodisiac, altered state, y/n feels like she's been drugged, explicit sex, wax play, light choking and hair pulling, brief oral

☾ summary: Heeseung calls y/n to the studio to show her a new song he's working on. He thinks y/n is as beautiful as a piece of art and wants to show her what that looks like to him.

Or, Heeseung is a siren and uses his voice to seduce y/n and show her how good he can make her feel.

☾ author note: This story is fiction and does not reflect the personalities or desires of those it is written about. This story has some scenes that may be uncomfortable for some readers, read at your own discretion.

☾ taglist: @who-tf-soddhi , @imnotyizhuo , @deobitifull , @ochaluver , @jakeswifez , @helenngxz , @enhalusional , @d-dilemma , @heerinnie , @qeeun-didi , @capri-cuntz , @strxwbloody , @jungwonloverr , @b3tt7boop , @zara2318 , @simbabyj , @gnvi-eve , @babygirlskz98 , @nshmrarki , @50-husbands , @peonywon , @moonpri , @binneulton , @leeheeso , @roslayy , @tunafishyfishylike , @fancypeacepersona , @irenic-max , comment below to be added! <3

It had been a few weeks since the night you got drunk and Jungwon told you everything. Jungwon had still tried to avoid the conversation when he could so you didn’t get much more information out of him. However, as you predicted, nothing had changed. Even with the confession, all of the boys continued to act the same. Sure maybe a little more handsy or flirty than before but nothing crazy. 

It was late in the evening, you had just gotten out of the shower, the steam clinging to your skin as you reached for your phone. A notification lit up the screen, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw the sender's name: Heeseung.

Hey, are you awake?

You cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. It was unusual for Heeseung to text you in the evening like this. He was usually busy with practice or working on new music.

I’m awake. You okay? 

As you waited for his response, you dried your hair, a towel wrapped around your head. Your mind raced, contemplating why he would be texting you like this suddenly and at this hour.

A moment later, your phone buzzed again.

Can you come to the studio? 

A slight pang of nervousness hit you. Heeseung didn’t answer you if he was okay and normally his messages weren’t so short. Your hair was dry enough so you quickly changed into a tank top with a cardigan and leggings. 

I’m on the way. 

You texted him back, a sense of urgency hitting you as you left your house and locked the door behind you. The walk was only about 10 minutes and you quickly stopped by the convenience store to get some snacks and coffee for Heeseung. You knew he would appreciate the gesture, as he often spent long nights in the studio working on his music.

Once you got to the building you rang the doorbell and Heeseung buzzed you in. You headed to the elevator and quickly hit the close door button behind you. As you waited for the elevator to arrive on the right floor you thought briefly about how you could cheer Heeseung up if he was having a hard time. Maybe these snacks would help. 

You headed down the hallway to the studio door and when you knocked Heeseung let you in. 

“Hey!” You said a little bit out of breath from your walk and carrying things. When you sat down on the little couch you noticed that Heeseung was alone in the studio. “Where is everyone? Is everything okay Heeseung?” You asked concern in your voice was evident.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just wanted you to hear something I was working on before I showed it to the rest of the guys.” He responded, closing the door behind you. 

“Oh!” You nodded before giving him a sweet smile. “It must be something important to you. I’d be honored.” 

He smiled back. His eyes trailed to the bags you brought with you. “What’s this?” He questioned. 

“I brought you some coffee and snacks. I was honestly a little worried Hee, you don’t typically text me this late at night.” You responded, pulling the snacks and a canned coffee drink out of the bag. 

The studio was a bit cramped. A small couch, a desk that held the music mixing equipment and Heeseung’s computer, a swivel chair, and then the mixing booth. Heeseung sat on the swivel chair in front of you. He took the coffee drink, popped the tab with one hand, and took a sip. 

“I’m just fine. Better now that you're here though.” He said. When you met his eyes he was eyeing you up and down before he took another sip. 

You couldn’t help but blush as his eyes trailed down your body. Your tank top was exposing your chest more than normal but you had just grabbed something that wouldn’t stick to your damp post-shower body. 

Heeseung stood up and pulled a lighter out of his desk before using it to light a few candles around the studio. Heeseung preferred it to be dark when he sang or was working on writing something. You remember he had mentioned before that he didn’t care for artificial light either which is why he opted for candles instead. 

“I hope you like it, I wrote it with someone I like in mind,” Heeseung said, a smirk on his face even though he wasn’t looking at you. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever shown me something I don’t like Heeseung.” You complimented him in response. Then you sat back on the couch getting more comfortable while Heeseung went into the booth and put on his headphones. You assumed his comment wasn’t about you. He started the music and your ears were met with a slow sensual beat. You closed your eyes and listened as Heeseung sang. 

My body is burning up because of you

My heart thirsts because of you

Like a fever, fever, fever, fever

His voice was so beautiful that it seeped into your ears like warm honey. The smell from the candles only heightened your senses as you listened. The smell was something like cedar, a comforting woody smell but with a hint of cinnamon. It was a nice smell. You wished that you could smell this sort of scent all the time. 

I want to embracе you

I want to embrace you

Push me away but my firе still burns

Turn to ash but the flame still rises

You opened your eyes to find that Heeseung was looking right at you as if he was singing to you. You blushed, not realizing he had been watching you. A second after your eyes met his you felt your head spin. You leaned forward and clutched onto the couch to help stabilize yourself. You weren’t the type to suddenly get dizzy like this. Maybe the smell from the candles was getting to you. Heeseung continued to sing, the melodic tune washing over you. He was still watching you but he didn’t seem concerned. 

Like a fever, fever, fever

I want to ache for you

I want to ache for you

Your body started feeling hot and tingly. You were worried you were getting sick suddenly, but you didn’t feel bad per se, just a burning sensation against your skin and a bit dizzy. If it wasn’t so sudden you argue that it felt kind of nice in a way. You lifted your head back up, and everything seemed to be moving a little bit slower than before. You looked back to Heeseung, he was still looking at you, watching you. 

Don't stop 

Yes, all day, all day burn me

Please stop 

My sun, stop baby, oh baby

I beg you, do something, anything

His voice was like fire in your veins, every note he sang you felt like an electric pulse through your body. You felt an overwhelming feeling of desire, a craving for touch and closeness. You pulled off your cardigan, the heat becoming too much for you to handle. 

You didn’t notice when Heeseung had stopped singing and exited the booth. You were still trying to understand why you suddenly felt so weird. He sat beside you and gently patted your head. His hand coming down to rest on the back of your neck. 

“It’s okay, you’ll get used to it soon.” He said, once again glancing over your more exposed skin. “It’s not too much is it darling?” he asked looking at the goosebumps raised on your arms. 

“Heeseung– what– what did you do?” you asked, head still spinning. The sudden pet name almost manages to go over your head. You wanted him to be closer, touching you, anything to help ground you. You grabbed onto his sleeve hoping it would help the feeling. 

“I know Jungwon told you about us. But I noticed that nobody has had the guts to make a move on you yet. Unsurprising really.” He replied, insinuating that the other boys were weak or scared. “This is… just part of who I am. But you're okay, don’t be afraid.” 

“You drugged me?” you asked, feeling even hotter now. That was the only thing that made sense in this situation. Or did it? How could he have possibly drugged you when all he did was light candles and sing to you?

Heeseung laughed before he placed a hand on your chin and pulled your face up to look at him. “I would never do that pretty girl. Don’t you remember what I said? I told you not to worry and that none of us would ever hurt you.” He reassured you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. 

That voice you had heard in your head at first the other night had been him. Now you felt crazy. A little scared and surprised by the way you couldn’t but help want Heeseung to kiss you. He was so close and you wanted more. 

“Come here, you can sit in my lap until I'm done working on this.” He spoke up, obviously aware that you didn’t want to let him go considering you still had a death grip on his sleeve. The older boy pulled your arm gently to get you to let him go before he grabbed both your hands and helped you onto your feet. Your knees threatened to buckle below you as you followed him to the chair.

This wasn’t something you normally would ever do. Of course, you found Heeseung handsome but he was always so calm and mature. You never dared hit on him because all his flirting seemed like just something he’d say to make someone feel good. You were sure he had someone he was seeing or that he wasn’t interested in you. But then again you felt that way about all the boys before Jungwon’s confession. Why would they be interested in you when they could have any girl they wanted? 

Heeseung guided you to the chair with care before he sat down. At first, you went to sit in his lap with your back pressed against his chest but he stopped you. 

“Turn around.” He said, gently turning you by the waist. His tone was somehow soft but firm at the same time. You knew he wouldn’t tolerate any pushback you gave him, so you obliged his demand. Then he guided you to staddle him and sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and adjusted your hips which resulted in a quiet grunt from the older boy. You couldn’t help but press your face into the crook of his neck. Normally you wouldn’t be this bold but you just wanted to be touching him. The smell of his cologne only fueled the heat you felt as you breathed against his neck.  

After a minute of listening to Heeseung clicking on his keyboard, he instead opted for filling the room with the sound of his humming. The vibrations against your face and the sound so much closer to you made you want more of him. Why was his singing making you feel this way? 

You felt worked up, and hot. You just wanted him to touch you. It was almost subconscious when you made the slightest shift against Heeseungs hips.

He responded with a quiet “mmm.”, not giving you the response you had hoped for. 

You pressed your lips against his neck, giving him a few small kisses. Maybe that would get him to react.

Again, there was almost no response from the older boy. Instead, he just continued to hum. 

Your pussy was starting to throb. This whole thing confused you. You didn’t understand why you were so ungodly horny. You didn’t understand why your body was reacting this way. You sat there, contemplating between letting the feeling overtake you or maintaining the image Heeseung had always seen you as. At most, the boys had only ever seen you making out with a guy or in your bathing suit, besides the other night, nothing of this level of intimacy had happened between any of you. You were sure they saw you as a bit modest and shy, which wasn't necessarily true, but that's all you ever showed them.

You pushed your forehead into Heeseung’s collarbone in defeat before using your hips to grind into him. 

“Oh, what’s this?” Heeseung teased as he stopped typing and placed his hand on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin where your tank top had risen on its own. 

You huffed a bit. You were desperate for him to do something at this point, but he wasn’t giving you anything. But you were too stubborn to blatantly give up your still somewhat respectable appearance. You did the same action again, except this time, you could feel that he was getting hard underneath you. 

“Darling, I’m not done yet.” he cooed, trying to act like your actions weren’t getting to him. 

You couldn’t help but let out the smallest little whine. You felt him smile, probably a cocky one. Nonetheless, he continued with his humming and typing while you continued slowly grinding against him. His cock twitched in his sweatpants begging for more friction. You obliged, tightening your arms around his shoulders to get more leverage as you pushed harder against him. 

This earned you another quiet grunt, followed by the sound of Heeseung’s laptop being shut suddenly. The noise caused you to jump. 

“You’re lucky y/n,” he said, his voice much darker than before. “You’re lucky that I'm going to go easy on you since I’m the first.” 

You felt his hand slide up your back and his fingers tangle into your hair before he tugged your head back suddenly. You squeaked, not expecting the sudden action nor the pain tingling across your scalp. 

He looked over your face. It was red, flushed with desire. Your eyes were glossy and round, begging him for more. Mouth slightly parted as you processed his actions. He smirked. 

“Look at you, so pretty and desperate for me already” Heeseung whispered, leaning into your ear “I should make you ride me right here like this.” 

His hot breath tickled against you and sent shivers down your spine. His sudden change in demeanor was intoxicating and his words made you only want more. 

Instead, Heeseung reached both hands under your ass and lifted you and himself from the chair before moving you to the couch. You clung onto him, not wanting to lose the feeling of his body against yours. He kept you on his lap, but this was more comfortable for the both of you than the swivel chair. 

You looked at him, he too looked a little bit flushed and needy, not that he would admit that. 

He reached up to grab the nape of your neck, and he finally gave you the attention you had wanted. He pulled you to him and kissed you. His kiss was much harder than the kiss at the party but it was still slow and drawn out. He kissed you passionately like he was savoring every single movement. 

His hands found your lower back again but slowly started to push up the fabric. Then they roamed over your sides leaving trails of tingling heat behind them. The kiss deepened as Heeseung’s tongue licked its way into your mouth and you started to rut against him again. 

“Fuck,’ He cursed as your clothed pussy rubbed against him. You could tell he was holding back because of the way his fingers pressed deeply into your sides, almost as if he was trying to ground himself. 

You pulled away from him, briefly taking over the lead to reach your fingers under the hem of his shirt and pull it off. You looked over him, his muscles and toned body surprising you. You hadn’t expected his body to be so nice. 

“Your turn.” He said after giving you a second to look him over. He lifted your shirt slowly over your head, keeping eye contact with you the entire time until he threw your shirt onto the floor.

Then his hands roamed the softness of your exposed body fingers gliding over your sides and under your breasts. He pulled you back down into the kiss before slowly kissing along your jawline and onto your neck. He sucked and bit on your neck not hard enough to leave any lasting marks but enough to elicit quiet whimpers from you. You ran your fingers through his hair earning a hum of satisfaction. As he continued to kiss your neck, you felt his hand travel up your back until it reached your bra, and in one smooth motion, he unclasped it. 

Heeseung pulled back from you, still maintaining eye contact with you. “Can I see you, darling?” He asked, not wanting to do anything that you were uncomfortable with. 

You nodded and let the bra fall off your shoulders and into your lap exposing your breasts. Your nipples hardened quickly at the change in temperature earning a smirk from the older boy who was already admiring you. 

“Wow y/n, you’re beautiful.” He whispered, reaching out to knead the soft mounds in his hands. You blushed, suddenly feeling shy and exposed. 

“Such a pretty girl.” He continued with his compliments, now taking your nipples in between his fingers. He played with them for a minute, rubbing them and pinching them causing you to shiver at the feeling. 

He looked over your features once more, and seeing that you maybe felt a little shy or nervous he started to hum again. This time humming quietly while he leaned down to suck on your nipples. The vibrations and the sound cause that dizzying hot feeling to overtake you again. He continued like this for a minute, swapping between his fingers and his mouth before he gently pushed you over to where you were lying back on the couch. 

You watched him as he stood up and pulled down his pants. Leaving him in just his underwear. His cock was hard and his underwear was wet where he had already begun to leak. He didn’t seem embarrassed by this and it only made you more aroused, knowing that he was just as worked up as you were. 

“Please.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

“Hmm? Please what darling?” Heeseung replied, leaning down over you and reaching his fingers into the band of your leggings. He kissed down your stomach as he slowly pulled your leggings down. He continued to hum between the kisses, the humming keeping you intoxicated and warm. 

He pulled your leggings off, leaving you exposed except for your panties. You were so hot, but also the tiniest bit cold since his body wasn’t touching yours anymore.

“Have you figured it out yet?” Heeseung asked, stepping away from you momentarily to the other side of the room. 

You couldn’t see where he had gone since he had disappeared behind your line of sight. 

You weren’t sure exactly what he was asking, your mind consumed with just wanting him to fuck you already. “Hee,” you whined, “want you.” The second part came out much quieter than his nickname.

“Oh, I know you do pretty. But you just need to wait a little while longer. There was a pause before he continued.”You know how much I love to make art right?” He asked, voice now coming back closer to you. 

You could only nod in response. 

“Close your eyes.” He demanded gently. You did what he asked, shifting your thighs back and forth to give yourself some sort of friction, the heat and need unbearable between your legs. 

“You’re so breathtaking y/n, that I can’t help but use you as a canvas.” He said, a smirk evident in his voice. 

It was hot. Incredibly hot as it trickled down your chest, in between your breasts, and towards your belly button. You yelped, surprised by the sudden pain that quickly turned into pleasure. 

And again, burning hot down your thighs, trickling over the edges towards the couch. You fidgeted, unable to hold back the surprised squeaks every time the feeling came. 

You opened your eyes to see Heeseung standing over you, the pine and cinnamon candle that he lit earlier in hand. The red wax left hot trails across your body. He tipped the candle again, watching your face as the wax trickled inwards on your thighs towards your heat. He enjoyed watching your face squeeze up in pain followed by a wave of pleasure. 

He continued this for a while, trickling hot wax across sensitive parts of your body while admiring you. By the time he was done, red wax that almost looked like a pattern of lightning or tree branches covered your body. 

“There, now that I’ve painted my beautiful canvas, it is also up to me to ruin it.” He said, voice laced with a darkness that you hadn’t anticipated. 

He placed the candle back on the table before inviting himself between your legs. He was quick to pull off your panties, not giving you a chance to be shy or nervous. It was obvious he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He admired your pussy. Using one finger to trace between your folds and tease your clit before running back down. 

You gasped, begging him for more without asking. 

He slipped one finger in with no resistance, and then a second. He was lacking the same patience he had had for hours beforehand. His eyes were full of a hungry lust. 

You mewled as his fingers pressed into you, the feeling relieving your aching heat just a little bit. “Ah– Heeseung,” you moaned quietly. 

He curled his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, reaching for the spot he knew would have you squirming under him. He leaned forward over you, took one hand, and wrapped it around your throat. He didn’t squeeze enough to really choke you, but enough to make sure your attention was solely focused on him. 

“Tell me what you want darling.” He said, speeding up his movements and purposefully hitting the sensitive spot over and over. His dark eyes peered into yours as he waited. 

You moaned as your body tensed up to his touch, both hands coming up to grab onto his arm that was still around your throat. You could barely catch your breath with the way your body was tensing up, hips arching off the couch, but you knew he wouldn’t give you any mercy until you gave him what he wanted. 

“Heeseung–ah– please,” you whined, little gasps coming out between each thrust of his fingers. 

“Ah, so pretty for me honey, but not enough.” he cooed, fingers continuing their assault. 

“Nngh– please Heeseung, please fuck me,” you begged, tears pricking at your eyes. 

He chuckled, slowing his fingers down and watching you as you panted. He released his hand from your neck before pulling his fingers out and sticking them into his mouth to clean them off. 

“Good girl,” he praised, “I thought you'd never ask. All this time you’ve been trying to keep this side of you hidden from me. But look at how good you are, listening to me and doing what I ask. Do any of the other boys know you’re such a slut darling?” 

His words overwhelmed you. Sure you weren’t a virgin, but you’d never done anything with the boys. Gotten off to the idea of fucking them before sure, but that was a secret that you kept to yourself. You never wanted to risk harming them by getting caught or hurting the bond that you had with them. 

You shook your head, giving Heeseung an honest answer. 

“I’m so lucky, getting you all to myself like this, even if it's just for a little while.” Heeseung smiled, the dark glint of desire ever present in his eyes. He pulled away from you again, standing up to take off his underwear. You watched as his cock hit the skin of his stomach. You found yourself surprised once again, his cock was bigger than you anticipated. 

He pumped his length in his hand, running a finger over the head to smear the pre cum along his shaft. He looked so good like this.

With a sudden wave of desire and determination to earn more praise you sat up and replaced Heeseungs hands with your own. You stroked him a few times before leaning over and kitten-licking the top. You didn’t hear any reaction from Heeseung, so you decided to push it further. You took a deep breath before taking him into your mouth. When you sunk down on him you finally looked up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Fuck–ah fuck,” Heeseung groaned as you took him into your mouth. You had caught him off guard and were rewarded by his surprised reaction. It took him a second to compose himself, his eyes opening to meet yours. He watched you for a moment as you bobbed up and down on his cock slowly. You could tell he was savoring the view and the feeling of your mouth on him.

Then he reached forward to run his fingers through your hair, an affectionate action before his fingers tightened around the strands and pushed you farther down onto his length. 

“You’re so pretty like this y/n,” Heeseung cooed as he held you down on his cock, far enough down that you felt your throat starting to spasm around him.

You tried your best to not gag as he held you down. Tears welled in your eyes as you looked up at him. His words were gentle, but his actions were stern and dominant. 

“You’re so good darling, showing me how badly you want to please me. But,” he paused before pushing you all the way down onto his length till your nose hit his stomach, “I don’t think you could handle it.” He whispered, before releasing you completely. 

You choked as you pulled off of him, followed by a gasp for air and a few tears running across your cheeks. You hadn't been prepared to deep-throat him like that, but the action turned you on tremendously. How his words were so sweet but his actions only made you want to egg him on. To see how rough he would get with you. 

Heeseung interrupted your thoughts as he leaned over to kiss your forehead before laying you back on the couch. He got on top of you and your heat clenched around nothing as you felt his cock slide against you. 

“I’ve been wanting this for a long time y/n,’ Heeseung whispered into your neck as you felt him reach down. He ran his cock up and down your folds, sliding easily because of how wet you were. 

You gasped at the feelings before reaching up to grab onto his shoulders. 

He teased you like this for a moment, watching you carefully in between leaving kisses on your neck and jaw. 

“Tell me you want me darling,” Heeseung urged, pushing the tip against your entrance. 

“God– please Heeseung, I want you… so bad Hee,” you begged, raising your hips in an effort to coax him into you. 

With your consent, the older boy groaned, slowly pushing himself into you. He rested a hand on your cheek as he did so, watching carefully for any indication of pain. 

You leaned your head back, mouth parted in a silent moan as he bottomed out before slowly pulling back out and repeating. 

He continued to fuck you slowly, leaning down to kiss you passionately as he thrust into you. Your fingers entangled into his hair, tugging gently which earned you a moan from Heeseung between kisses. Your tongues fought for dominance, and occasionally Heeseung took your bottom lip in between his teeth. 

After a minute of this, Heeseung dipped his head back into your neck before speeding up his thrusts. He fucked into you faster and harder and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His thrusts brought out continuous strings of lewd moans from you. 

You opened your eyes in surprise when you felt Heeseungs hand press over your mouth. “Your noises are so beautiful darling, and I so badly want to hear them. In fact, I wish all the boys could hear you moaning for me baby. I wish everyone in this building knew who you belonged to tonight,” he paused, taking a moment to peer into your eyes. “But I can’t have you letting the whole building know what we are doing in here hmm? That might get me in a bit of trouble.” He finished his thought with a quick raise of his eyebrow. 

You could only nod in response as he continued his motions, a spring of tension coiling in your stomach with every thrust. 

With his hand still over your mouth, you could only listen to the sound of his panting and quiet grunts. His voice was still beautiful even in this situation. 

“Oh, by the way,” Heeseung spoke again suddenly, “I’m a siren.” 

He removed his hand from your mouth and instead moved to pull your legs up to your chest so he could get a deeper angle. Gasps and whines left you in quick succession, this position only tightening the coil in your stomach further. 

You were having trouble processing what Heeseung had just said to you and of course it was hard to believe any of what Jungwon had said was real but the new information gave you clarity on what made you feel so aroused tonight. Heeseung’s voice. It intoxicated you and consumed you and it was all at Heeseung’s will. 

You moaned quietly at the idea of this. How he could get you so worked up with just his voice. 

After a moment, Heeseung reached down in between the two of you and his fingers found your clit. He rubbed small circles as he continued to fuck into you harshly. 

You dug your nails into his back and began to tremble from the overwhelming stimulation. You knew it wouldn’t take you that long to cum considering how worked up you had been. Heeseung knew this too. 

“You know what that means?” He asked, sweat causing his hair to stick to his forehead slightly. 

You shook your head, giving him a curious look in response. 

“It means,” He smirked. “From now on, every time you hear my voice. You’ll be reminded of this moment. You’ll be reminded of how good I made you feel, and how desperate you were for me. How you trembled underneath my fingers darling.” 

The idea of this sent you into a spiral of arousal, you heard Heeseung singing all the time. He practically never stopped singing. How would you ever be able to sit in on any of their practices or concerts? Heat rushed to your core at the images and scenarios in your head. You whimpered, a small pathetic noise of desperation. 

“Heeseung,” you moaned as his fingers and thrusts continued. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, the sound of you calling his name obviously getting to him. 

You couldn’t hold back much longer and you knew he couldn’t either. His thrusts were becoming a bit sloppy and rushed. 

His eyes met yours again, neither of you saying anything for a moment before you spoke up. Your orgasm was approaching quickly now. 

“Heeseung, please, please don’t stop.” You begged, your head rolling back again as you allowed yourself to be consumed by the feeling of him fucking you. 

He picked up speed with determination and he leaned down once more kissing the side of your jaw and then your ear. 

“You’re so pretty y/n, I know you want to cum for me.” He said, his voice though not singing, sent that dizzy wave of overwhelming arousal over you again. 

“Hee—hee, please.” You cried as you were thrown desperately toward the edge, the coil so tight you could barely breathe. 

“Cum for me. Cum nice and hard for me darling. Show me how good you feel.” He all but commanded into your ear, his thrusts and fingers maintaining a slower but consistent speed and motion. 

And you did. Unsure if it was from his voice or at your own will but you came hard. You came so hard that no sound escaped your lips, you were breathless, air stolen by the waves of pleasure as they cascaded over you. Heeseung fucked you through your orgasm and kept fucking you until you shook from overstimulation. Once he finally pulled his hand away from between you he was able to focus on his own climax. 

His pace quickened, and your body still clenched around him, overstimulation causing tears to brim at your eyes. 

“Heeseung,” you moaned, and it was lewd. You sounded almost straight from a porno and that was all he needed. 

“Fuck—,” he cursed, surprised by what you had just done. His thrusts became uneven and frantic before he pulled out and came over your stomach. His quiet groans alone were almost enough to get you fired up again. 

Your head was floaty as you watched him come down from his own high. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed happily. Then his eyes met yours and he looked so much different than before. He looked at you endearingly and lovingly, any sadistic dominance gone from his eyes. 

He was quick to get up, grab tissues, and wipe you off. You looked down and saw the wax that still covered your body. That was going to be a pain to clean up but it was so worth it. 

Heeseung helped you back into your clothes before he got back into his own clothes and settled back onto the couch sitting beside you. 

There was now somewhat of an awkward silence as you didn’t know what to expect next. You honestly just anticipated that you would go home from here and it would be just like a one-night stand of sorts. 

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, a slight twinge of disappointment at the ideas your head was creating. 

Heeseung grabbed your hand and laced his fingers in between yours. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry. For being so quiet that is.” He said, obviously having sensed your anxiety. “I’m just honestly speechless. You’re so beautiful and I feel lucky to know you and get to experience and share a friendship and… this…with you.” His other hand motioned vaguely not sure what to consider your relationship at this moment in time. 

You couldn’t help but smile at his words and nod in agreement. 

The older boy took your hand and pulled you up. He grabbed your cardigan and helped you slip it on before leading you to the door and turning off the lights. 

“Let’s go.” He said, hand still entangled in yours. 

He grabbed a sweatshirt from a hook by the door and slipped it on pulling up the hood over his head. Then he pulled out two black masks from the pocket and handed one to you before putting on the other one. He looked over to you, his eyes showing a big smile.

“Where are we going?” You asked, having enough comprehension skills to realize that he was taking you somewhere and that’s why you both needed to have your identities covered a bit. 

“Home of course,” Heeseung replied, pulling you out the door and closing it behind him. He led you towards the elevator. 

“Oh—, Home?” You questioned. It wasn’t often that you went over to the dorms so late at night. Did he mean back to your place? The boys never came over to your place either and it definitely wasn’t in good shape for any guests.

“Mhmm.” He replied as the elevator doors closed. He was still holding your hand tightly, almost as if he was worried you might not want to come with him. 

Truth be told, you were still feeling the post orgasm high and you didn’t really care where you went right now as long as it was with him.

He continued leading you outside of the building and when you made it outside he turned to head towards the dorms. 

“The dorms?” You questioned. Obviously, you knew this was the likely answer but it somehow still surprised you. 

“Yep!” Heeseung replied, not giving you anything more than short answers that way you couldn’t argue or try to change his mind. 

“But Heeseung, uhm… why?” You asked. It was late, and coming over just to hang out wasn’t really the best idea. You’d need to leave soon before you got too sleepy. 

He chuckled, his fingers squeezing yours for a moment. “I’m not going to just let you go home after that y/n. I’m not a fuck boy.” 

“Well, I didn’t say that.” You replied, whacking him on the shoulder with your free hand. He laughed again and you wished you could see his smile instead of the mask. 

The rest of the short walk was quiet except for the various sounds of isolated cars or chit-chat of other people walking around. The city truly never slept around here. 

Heeseung unlocked the door when you arrived, finally releasing your hand before pushing open the door. The dorm was quiet except for the TV in the living room which was playing some sort of anime. You slipped off your shoes and cardigan welcoming the comforting warmth of the dorm. 

Heeseung went into the kitchen to grab you both some water. As you waited you noticed that Jake had fallen asleep on the couch. You smiled and walked over to turn off the lamp that was shining in his face. 

When you turned back around you jumped, surprised to be somewhat face to face with Jungwon. He was wearing a tank top and sweatpants. His muscular arms caught you a bit off guard as he normally never wore exposing clothes like that. 

“J-Jungwon!” You whispered, trying not to wake up Jake. 

“What are you doing here so late?” Jungwon asked, his brows furrowed a bit. 

“Oh- I was just-,” you stammered.

Obviously, you weren’t going to tell Jungwon what you had been doing. But coming up with something else was impossible, your brain wasn’t awake enough to come up with anything quick enough. 

“She came with me,” Heeseung spoke suddenly from behind you once again causing you to jump. 

Jungwon looked at Heeseung, and then to you, and then back to Heeseung. Then Jungwon looked back at you and your skin prickled as you watched him eye you from top to bottom. The look in his eyes changed, but to what you couldn’t tell. His eyes stopped on your chest briefly before he nodded and his facial expression went back to normal. You flushed, Jungwon didn’t normally steal glances at you so obviously like that. 

“Ah,” he paused his tone unreadable, “That’s good. I was worried about you y/n, showing up late like this.” 

“Don’t worry,” Heeseung replied, “She’s safe with me Jungwon.” 

Jungwon nodded again before walking away and into the kitchen himself. Heeseung handed you a glass of water before he took your hand again and pulled to towards his bedroom. 

You were surprised, however, when Heeseung stopped and pulled you into the bathroom. 

“I’ll grab you some clothes of mine you can wear to sleep in. I can shower with you if you want, or you can shower by yourself if you’d be more comfortable,” he said before turning to head towards his bedroom, “Oh, and use whatever shampoo or body wash you want, everyone has different tastes so there’s a few to choose from.” 

You nodded and closed the door behind him. Processing everything that was going on was overwhelming but the idea of staying in the dorm made you feel a little giddy inside. You took a few sips from the glass of water before sitting it down on the counter. 

Heeseung’s knock brought you out of your thoughts as he slowly opened the door. In his hand were some sweatpants and a T-shirt. He smiled at you before setting them down on the counter beside the glass of water.

“Do you want me to shower with you?” He asked. Heeseung’s eyes also trailed your bare skin. “You might need some help getting all that off.” He continued pointing to your chest. 

You looked down and suddenly your face started to burn. How the fuck did you forget the wax! It’s not that Jungwon was looking at your tits but instead, he was looking at the wax that covered your chest and cleavage in tiny trails. 

You looked back at Heeseung, the mischievous look on his face told you that he knew exactly what you were thinking about right now. But it was too late now, there was nothing you could do about it. 

“I think that would be nice actually. Thank you, Hee.” You replied. 

Heeseung was happy to help. He helped you undress and got the water going for you so you could get in and enjoy it for a moment while he brushed his teeth and undressed himself. 

You let the warm water trail down your body washing away any other stress and anxiety you had about the situation. 

When Heeseung joined you couldn’t help but admire him once more. The way his bronze skin glistened in the water as it cascaded over him. The older boy took your hand and placed it on his chest.

“Don’t be afraid.” He said quietly. You tilted your head confused but when you looked up and met his eyes you saw they were now bright blue with small slits in them. The blue color was so bright it reminded you of glaciers as they floated in the ocean. His skin twitched under your fingertips as small silvery blue scales pushed through his skin in various places the water was hitting. 

“Oh—wow.” You responded, shocked by what you were seeing. 

You looked up again and saw small spikey fins that had grown out from the tips his ears. Everything else about him stayed the same. 

“Heeseung. You’re stunning.” You said, blown away by what you were seeing. When he released your hand you noticed that his fingers had become webbed too, obviously to help him swim if he was in the water. 

He smiled. “You’re not scared right?” 

“No not at all just… do you... have a tail fin?” You questioned, giving him an innocent but curious look. 

The older boy laughed. “Of course I do. I can just control it better than my scales and fins. It would be quite awkward if I just grew a tail and fell over right now wouldn’t it?” He responded, chuckling again at the image he had created in his head. 

You laughed with him at the scenario. 

Then he helped you wash and made sure to get all of the wax off your body before also helping you wash your hair. You allowed yourself to be pampered by him even just briefly. You wondered if you’d ever get to see his tail and watch him swim. 

After you both finished washing, Heeseung helped you towel dry your hair and get into his clothes before he took you along into his bedroom.

You chuckled as you watched the older boy flop onto the bed and tuck himself under the covers. 

“Well,  come here darling.” He said, patting the bed beside him and holding up the covers for you to get in. 

You got into the bed with him and he opened his arms for you to get comfortable and lay on his chest. You were surprised by how quickly his siren features disappeared after getting out of the water and drying off. It was silent for a moment besides the sound of his heartbeat in your ear

“Are you sure this is okay?” You said, breaking the silence. 

“What? Cuddling with me?” He questioned you. 

“Well, just all of it.” You replied anxiously. 

His arms tightened around you. 

“Don’t worry to much y/n. Do what makes you happiest and we will all be happy. You should know that I will— well, we all will do everything in our power to keep you happy.” He replied, his tone a lot more serious now. You could tell he was being genuine. 

You nodded, before leaning up to give Heeseung a kiss. Even though it was dark you could tell he was blushing by your sudden action. 

When you laid back on his chest, he began to hum once again. Except this time, instead of arousal you just felt warm and fuzzy. His humming enveloped you in a soft blanket of safety and comfort. You felt loved and appreciated and beautiful in his arms, and you weren’t sure you’d ever want to leave them. 

The warm cozy feeling Heeseung was creating for you was quick to whisk you to sleep but before you drifted off you wondered briefly how you had gotten so lucky to be sought after by this group of boys. You wondered if this was a dream and if you’d wake up soon. You wondered if you’d figure out what monsters the other boys were, and secretly you hoped you’d find out just like you did with Heeseung tonight. 

☾ author note: thank you for reading! this chapter is arguably the tamest out of them all so please look forward to whats to come next! can you guess who is what monster?

chapter two (coming soon)

chapter directory

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Careful, Bub | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Synopsis: I showed my friends, then we high-fived / Sorry if you feel objectified / Can't help myself, hormones are high / Give me more than just some butterflies

Warnings: Mutual Pining, Masturbation, Sexting, Nude Photos, Mentions of Sex Toy Use, Dom!Logan, Logan Talks You Through It, P R A I S E K I N K ! L O G A N, Choking of the Sexual Variety, Shoving, Claws Come Out,  Age Gap (Reader is in their late 20’s – Logan is 200 years old), Reader used to have confidence issues but worked through them,

Rating: M – No Minors

Word Count: 8.5k

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

It’s fun to relate to the people that live in the same place as you, something about it deepens the connection. Whether it is a mutual bonding over music, entertainment, or even sports – it always makes you feel closer, comfortable. In this day and age, it can be almost lonely if you aren’t connected with others through your phone, making the world feel a bit glummer. Having that safe group is necessary to be one with the world, to feel like you’re going to be okay – like everything is going to pan out. You happened to luck out by living in the same building as some of the most heinous, and hilarious characters the world has ever set eyes on. You have the fortune of calling them your friends.

The group chat was originally Wade’s idea. His way of bringing you into the crew when you worked late, not missing a moment of meet ups you couldn’t make it to. It was a sweet gesture, but with how many others were in there – it overwhelmed you. Out of the twelve people who are constantly messaging the chat, you found safety within two of them. Negasonic and Yukio happened to be your solace when the chat was too loud. Yukio wasted no time in creating a Girls Only chat for you three, where nothing was held back. You three could express yourselves in every way possible, without the guys being weirdos – mainly Wade but still. It was great to have women friends around your own age, that was something you were not used to. 

Any inside joke about the guys or about events being organized was ran through your three separately, making small bets here and there on what Al would say, who Peter would try to have grab his chain, how many times Logan told Wade to fuck off. Logan, that made you tune in real quick. The possibilities were endless and made it eventful to say the least. But the one thing you loved the most about your friendship with Nega and Yukio is how open they are with you; Honest, encouraging, your own personal cheerleaders. When you initially met them, you were a shy little wallflower – getting by on just being a listener over a talker. Always the encourager, never getting encouragement. Shying away anytime someone was nice to you, never accepting it as truth. Yukio and Nega were the opposite of what you were, and everything you wanted to be.

Having a safe space with them meant you could send them anything and they’d listen, give advice, be the best friends you could’ve ever asked for. It was with them that you found your confidence, something you always struggled with. It was one photo you sent them of the dress you were wearing – both ladies telling you how beautiful and gorgeous you are, how hot you looked in it. That small little omission altered your brain chemistry. You hadn’t been called hot before, so it invigorated you to hear that. It was a long dive into the endless pool below, and you were ready for the journey down. Months and months of slowly getting out of your shell with them turned you into a little vixen, the compliments they gave you caused you to thrive. You always reciprocated for them as well, hyping them up through and through. It felt good to feel like you were worth it, like you weren’t just there. It changed the way you saw yourself, and you knew you’d never go back to how it was before.

Tonight was no different, after all you had just gotten back from hanging out with them. A trip downtown to the mall was a call for chaos when it was you three, Wade forcing Logan to stay home with him and reenact The Greatest Showman with Mary Puppins. It bummed you out for a bit, not being able to chill with Logan like you wanted, but when Wade called – no one told him no. It was a secret to everyone who wasn’t Yukio and Nega that you had a thing for Logan. Something about the older man burned right through you in the most sensual way possible, something deep and longing you never wanted to leave. Little glances you two would have together always caused the girls to giggle, teasing you about it later but, it was only a matter of time before the chord snapped, before you gave in. Still that fear sat at the back of your mind, the what if’s. What if he doesn’t want me? What if he doesn’t want anyone? What if? What if? What if?

As you sit on your plush rug right in front of your wall length mirror, you leaned against the side of your bed, humming as you thumbed through the earlier group chat messages. Behind you on your duvet sat the bag full of clothing you had gotten, trying to add more color into your wardrobe. Beneath it all sat a spicy little number you nabbed whole Yukio and Nega were changing, something that felt so right you needed to have it. It wasn’t a secret that you would buy yourself things like these every now and again but, this time around you felt empowered holding this little secret just for yourself, to surprise your friends with. They always said that color duo made you look fearless, powerful, gorgeous – and you’d be damned if you’d pass it up, especially on sale.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you contemplated getting up to take a shower or put on your new set, feeling yourself out, getting some prime photos then showering. The toss up between the two left you unable to choose, wondering if you could go hang out with Wade and Laura instead, maybe even sneak your way into Logan’s room. The thought made your body shiver, needing to close your eyes for a moment to brace yourself. Taking a deep breath in, you let your mind wander, your hand grabbing the bag off your bed instinctively. It was a given deep down you wanted to prance around your room in the set, spicing up your night. Something about wearing it underneath your clothes while hanging out with everyone felt taboo, downright sinful – but you craved it.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, you gently grabbed each piece of lingerie out of the bag, the rustling of tissue paper filling the air as your music droned low in the background. The bra was placed carefully against the bed first, followed by the lacy things and garter set; Your eyes quivered with arousal as you saw it, knowing how it was going to make you feel. There was no wasted effort in stripping completely naked, tossing your day clothes into the laundry basket. The slight cool breeze coming from your central air, mixing with the intoxicating smell of the candles lit around you made your eyes darken, your nipples pebbling against the air. You understood why you were excited and giddy to be putting it in, but in the back of your mind you also felt nervous. It was confusing you.

Pushing it out of your head, you ignored the nagging in the back of your mind, solely focusing on the task at hand. Sliding the soft lace of the thong up your thighs, you reveled in how it felt – how it glided against your skin so softly, like it was a lover. How supportive it felt cupping your front whilst holding your behind helped to quell some of the nerves lying low in your belly. Snapping the elastic band against your hip, you giggled as you grabbed the bra. Even though it was lacy and covered almost nothing, it had good support for your breasts, holding them perfectly to show the most amount of cleavage, but also leaving some to the imagination. In between the small bits of detailing, you could see the color of your nipple, which caused your smirk to grow. Biting your bottom lip, you smoothed your hands over the apex of your breasts, watching as the flesh spilled over slightly.

All that was left was your garter belt, sitting across the middle of your stomach and hooking onto your stockings. You worked quickly to pull them up as you let the music take over you, swaying to the beat so it was less intimidating. As the final strap was hooked to the top of your stockings, you let out a shaky sigh, silently prepping yourself for what you would see once you turned around. Keeping your eyes closed you spun around slowly, letting the anticipation eat away at you until you couldn’t take anymore. Usually you were so confident when it came to trying these pieces on, not giving a second worry to them – this time around you were nervous, as if this particular color scheme made you scared. You couldn’t let that hold you back, not after how far you have come, it wasn’t worth it.

Slowly you opened your eyes as you faced the mirror, the blue tint of the strip lighting giving a whimsy glow to your room. The focal point of your vision started to become clear as you looked at your face, makeup still immaculate and beautiful from earlier. But as your eyes panned down to your body, you felt a fresh wave of goosebumps flood your skin, a shaky moan leaving your lips. The yellow of the bra and thong complimented your figure wonderfully, amplifying the gorgeous glow of your skin. But truly it was the navy blue of your stockings and belt that made your body quiver; The royal deep color punctuating your sensuality with how you stood. You couldn’t believe this was you, in all your baren glory – a fucking goddess amongst men, you could send one to the hospital just with this set. You couldn’t keep your smile back any longer as you stared at yourself, admiring your body and its shape against the lingerie. All the worries, all the small doubts instantly fell away, your confidence skyrocketing.

You knew for a fact Yukio and Nega would hype you up, thinking this was totally you¸ and probably ask if you got it today. But those could wait, you needed to take photos – you needed to see what you looked like on screen. The giddy nature of what you were doing sent shivers through your body, the thought of what positions would look best making you grow excited. You decided that your go-to for new outfits would fit perfectly in this scenario. Who knows, you could save this photo for a rainy day when you wanted to tease someone. You grabbed your phone off of the bed as you dropped to your knees, the plush shag material of your lilac rug feeling lovely against your legs.

Parting your thighs, you left a good gap between both as you sunk yourself down. One hand came to press against the floor directly in front of your clothed core, tossing your hair over to the opposite side. As you held your phone in position with your free hand, you noticed how your arm was pushing your breasts together deliciously, deepening the cleavage, sending your eyes a shade darker. Pouting your lip as cutely as you do, you snapped a few quick photos, getting every great angle you could as you changed your hair direction. A blur of photos filled your camera roll as you felt yourself, “Juno” by Sabrina Carpenter coming across your playlist at the best time.

As you laughed to yourself, you finally stopped taking photos, sitting with your back against the bed and crossing your legs. Each photo you took was a masterpiece, amplifying your beauty by tenfold. But out of each one, it was the very first one that felt real, authentic to you. The others you were playing sexy up, trying to get the best fuck me look going, but it felt too artificial for your taste. It was the first one, the one where your eyes were dilated, where your nipples perked beneath the fabric, where your thighs trembled that made you feel like a God. It was a no brainer that this is what Yukio and Nega were getting, there was no way around it now. Clicking the share icon in your camera roll, you clicked on the first green bubble, eyes blurred from how excited you were about this risky photo. I’d be a lot tougher with claws.

You sent off the cheeky message without a second more thought to it, locking your phone instantly. As you tossed the device on your bed, you put on the silk bathrobe hanging off of the corner of your mirror, wrapping yourself up quickly. All that thirst-trapping made you thirsty, the dry mouth you were getting was too much for you. As you opened your bedroom, making it around to your kitchen of your apartment, you opened your fridge up quickly to grab a water bottle. The cold plastic in your hand brought you back to Earth, your body coming back into itself as your reality started to slip back in. The cap was popped off easily by you, finding its way across the quartz top. Bringing the bottle to your lips, you let them wrap around the opening, gulping down the cold liquid. It felt nice with how hot you felt, bringing your internal temperature back down as your mind cleared.

Ding. The tone of your phone going off made you stop drinking, catching your breath as you swallowed down the water. So lost in bringing yourself back to the present time, you forgot you had messaged the chat. You screwed the lid back onto the bottle as you set it on the countertop, promising to come back to it. As you made your way elegantly back to your room, that pull of nausea and nerves made you stop. Your stomach churned as you stood in the doorway, the threshold keeping you upright. That same feeling from earlier was back as you put on the lingerie, not knowing why you felt so nervous and scared all of a sudden. It made you confused, weary as to what your body was trying to tell you. It’s just Yukio and Nega, why are you being so flighty? Groaning to yourself, you rolled your eyes as you made your way back to your bed.

Plopping down onto the duvet, you sprawled out on your stomach as you grabbed your phone, using your face ID to unlock it. Yes you would. Colors look good on you. You cocked a brow at the message, reading the lines over and over again. It didn’t sound like Nega or Yukio to be so short-worded. Usually, they would send a plethora of emojis before screaming in all caps. But that was just the thing, your last message open wasn’t to the group chat, but one individual instead. It all made sense now, why you felt so scared and nervous. Your eyes went wide as you read the contact’s name, not seeing your groupchat. No, instead it read Logan. It wasn’t the groupchat that received the photo, it was him.

You screamed as you threw your phone across the floor, palms shaking as you sat up silently. The noise in your brain was too loud to focus, the intake of your breath and blood pulsing through your ears made everything too much. Anxiety was sitting in the back of your throat, threatening to spill your stomach out. You scrambled across the floor on your hands and knees to grab your phone, still unlocked from a few moments ago. Shaky fingers worked to unsend the photo, blessing the tech gods for that feature. You were too anxious to type, opting for speech to text instead. “I’m so sorry about that! I meant to send that to Nega and Yukio.” Seeing the wording typed out didn’t feel right, as weird as that sounded. Admitting it felt like a sin, more so than sending a sexy photo to The Wolverine. After all, wasn’t this your endgame anyways? It’s not like you haven’t deep infatuated with him since he became Wade’s friend, since you started hanging around him a lot more. Wasn’t it you who stated that by the end of the year, you’d kiss him? Wasn’t it you who said you would fight tooth and nail to make him yours?

Being sucked into your mind by your thoughts caused you to delay in sending your message, instead removing the text with your finger to completely disappear. Ding. Right as you were thinking of your response, you saw another message come through from Logan, one you didn’t anticipate. Put it back. Now. There was no way he said that, right? Oh, but there was. As your eyes shook from excitement, nervousness, and fear you could make out the small letters of Logan’s message, feeling his desire through the text. He wasn’t a big texter, he even said that himself – but to see him say more than two words was insane to you, even now when he was clearly enamored with you. There was no right or wrong way to reply, but no words you could think of held a light to the dominance Logan is showing.

Incoming FaceTime Call: Logan. The red and green buttons at the bottom made you stir, wondering if it would be a good idea to answer. This was one of his favorite ways to communicate, to see how things were going and what you were up to. Granted they never lasted more than two minutes because Wade would always hijack it but still – the little slivers of time you got with Logan was special. This time around though? It felt wired, like if you answered you’d get the shock of a lifetime. But what was life without a little self-indulgence? Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you fixed a few strands of your hair, pulling your robe a bit tighter around your chest as you sat back against the bed, letting your butt hit the floor as you got comfortable. Dragging your thumb along the green answer button, you positioned your phone a few inches away from your face, enough to get your collarbone up in the shot. A slow, pregnant pause caused by your phone’s connection delayed seeing Logan. But once it came to be, you were taken aback.

The dark of the early night was cresting behind his head, the sun starting to descend into the horizon. His eyes glittered against the holiday lights, causing your heart to swell. Once he looked back down at the camera, he couldn’t help himself but by staring at you, a small smile threatening to take over his lips. “Hey,” he let out with an airy breath, the slight chill of the night causing it to puff out. You felt yourself suck in a breath, the energy already charged. Reflecting his own smile, you sent your own through your phone as you waved. “Hi.” Usually you were a lot more talkative, teasing him to make him smile but – none of that felt right in this moment. Even with seeing his face on your screen, you could tell he was hiding something – not really saying what he wanted to. His eyes were black against the horizon behind him, no sight of hazel coming through.

“How’re you?” You managed to let out, your voice lower than usual as you let your legs stretch out, leaning further back against the side of the bed. Logan didn’t miss a second of your movements as he walked down the street, the light bustling of cars filling the sound barrier. From the buildings behind him, you could see he was downtown, more than likely heading to the bar for a quick drink. You silently wished he asked to meet you there, to hang out privately for once. But that playful glint in his pupils told a different story as he rounded the corner, staring down at you. “Did Wade tell you about my suit?”

Logan asked with a slight smirk, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he watched for your reaction. Cocking a brow in his direction you tried to understand what he was asking, not sure what suit he meant. You knew that Logan was The Wolverine, it was no secret. But you never saw his suit, only meeting him a week after he jumped into your timeline. Shaking your head at his question, you pulled your lower lip between your teeth, gnawing on the skin to help combat the butterflies in your stomach. The swishing of your hair from side-to-side aiding in cooling you down. “Then what made you choose yellow and blue?” His smirk never let off as he asked, prying. He wanted to fully talk about the photo, he wanted to see if it was truly accidental or planned. Your mouth went dry when he asked, not having a concrete answer for why you chose that color scheme. Shrugging you tightly laughed, releasing your lip as you focused on your mirror. “I thought it was a pretty combination.”

Pretty, by association it was like you were calling Logan pretty. Even if you didn’t know about his original suit, still he associated himself with those colors. Logan mirrored how you were before, pulling his own bottom lip between his teeth as he chuckled. Struggling for a moment, Logan managed to flip his camera around to pan at his legs – the clean yellow and blue pants is all he had to remember his original suit. It caused your heartrate to pick up again, hammering in your chest as you got a brief glimpse at his clothed crotch. It took every fiber of your being to contain yourself, to hide the whimper clawing up the back of your throat. Lost in thought of what he could be hiding under there you didn’t notice how the screen flashed a few times – a text bubble popping up you couldn’t focus on. Logan took screenshots of your reaction.

The camera flipped back to Logan’s face, the heat cresting its way up your neck as you stared at him, your own pupils blown out.  “Do you still think so?” He teased, dropping his voice down a few octaves. You could tell he was wearing his headphones to talk, making it more intimate for him to hear than everyone else. It sent your body up in flames at how you could say anything, and it would be only for Logan. “More than ever before.” It was a no-brained response, you didn’t have to think in order to speak. Your mind was already as alert as it was going to be, the filter around Logan you had previously no longer existed on this call. Logan stopped his walking to stare down at you, narrowing his eyes with a genuine smile as he licked his lips, nodding to himself.

Logan jutted his chin out towards the camera as he started to walk up another well-lit street, never taking his eyes off the camera. “You wanna show me what my colors are hiding under there?” He nodded towards your bathrobe, a sliver of the bra showing against the fur collar. There was one of two ways this could’ve gone, either play into it or shy away. This was clearly an attempt from Logan to see how far you’d want to go with him, really a test for if this was accidental. Mutual pining after one another for so long burnt you both out, so if it kept going there would be no tell when it would stop. The power was now in your hands, there wasn’t much else you could play with. Putting on your best innocent eyes, you let the pretty little smile fall to your mouth, puffing your lower lip out slightly. “Dunno – you sure you can handle it?” Game on.

The sassy tone you let on with your question had Logan’s pants tightening, his breath coming out in sharp bursts as he tried to control himself. Having animalistic tendencies meant that anytime he was aroused, he needed to stake his claim. Show the world who you belong to, who his mate was. Even if you didn’t know, he did. He could smell it on you any time you went past him, or when you looked at him. In another life, in another world you were his – and he planned to make you his on Earth-10005 as well. Huffing out a disbelieving laugh, Logan snorted as he stopped in his tracks, pressing his back against the brick wall of one of the local pubs. “I can handle you, missy.” Logan hissed, letting his eyes go naturally wide to signify how serious he was. The low growl seeping up from his throat made your body shiver, made your fingers work slowly to undo the ties on your bathrobe. “Don’t get it twisted.”

You couldn’t help but snort to yourself as you heard Logan say that, never expecting the 200-year-old man to say something so modern. Laughing lowly as you stripped out of the bathrobe, you let a sliver of your chest show, how your robe fell off of your shoulder. Logan’s eyes narrowed in to watch you take it off, the silk falling behind you. All that he could see was the plush skin of your breasts hanging slightly over the cups, nothing more. A weak moan slipped past his parted lips as he watched, needing to shut his eyes for a moment so he wouldn’t cum in his pants. You knew you had Logan right where you wanted him, letting you take the control back of the situation. It made you feel powerful knowing he was so weak for you, even if it was for a short period of time. “Ew, Wade needs to stop teaching you catchphrases of the early 2010’s.” You weren’t a tease all the time, you could see Logan’s labored breathing through the call, could tell he needed a distraction.

Your remark was enough to make Logan open his eyes again, staring at you with a predatory glint in his eyes; The whites almost impossible to see. “Why are you changing the subject?” He panted, standing upright again as he pressed his covered back to the wall, cocking a brow in your direction. You weren’t prepared for Logan’s retort, thinking you may have the upper hand while he was aroused, yet he always managed to surprise you. Sucking your teeth, you shook your head in confusion, rolling your eyes away from his gaze. “Aw, is someone flustered?” He pouted, smiling with a hint of smugness. Your mouth falling open in a silent gasp made him chuckle, finding it quite adorable how you’re trying so hard. The burning across your face was a clear indication to you that Logan was getting under your skin, trying his hardest to truly break you. It wasn’t in a callous or mean way, but more to show you who you belonged to. Putting the phone closer to his face so you could see only him, he made sure he was loud and clear. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll be nice and gentle.”

“Fuck off, Howlett.” You laughed as you rolled your eyes, exposing your cleavage to the camera without realizing it, your cool slipping through your fingers. The dead giveaway of how he was affecting you came in the form of your camera shaking, your fingers betraying you as you tried to suck in a deep breath. Looking away from the camera didn’t help when Logan stared like he was going to eat you alive, devouring you with every glint his eyes gave. You had to admit it to yourself, your confidence reserve was running out, completely going dry the longer you sat and talked with Logan. If he didn’t act now, he was forever going to hold his peace. “I’d rather fuck you.” It flowed off his tongue so elegantly, never deterring his steps as he managed to walk again. At first you thought you may have misheard him but, you heard him loud and clear, perfect in fact.

The shock written across your face, mixed with desire caused Logan’s restraint to snap. He moved away from the bars entrance and instead kept straight, letting the cold November air nip at him a bit longer. For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. Mouth hanging open, brow creased with a mix of shock and anxiety, you were going through it within seconds, all because of dear Logan. The confidence, the bravado, the je ne sais quoi you have held on the up and up finally slipping. Revealing itself when the shy version of yourself you thought you buried. The submissive angel, Logan had you wrapped tightly around his hand, reminiscent of his old cage fighting wraps. “Eye-fucking can only get you so far, princess.” Logan knew you wouldn’t pull away now, you were putty in his hands. But he could have a little fun with you, and boy did he plan to. It was a sure thought that you weren’t as obvious as you may have thought when staring at Logan, silently begging him to fuck you. The whole time, he knew.

“You’ve known?” It was a silly question to ask but Logan wasn’t stupid. He’s been around for more than 200 years, he could see through stuff as it came through. He is also very well known for retorting back no but I do now, pretending to know a secret as a way to coax you into telling him. You had to make sure this wasn’t like that – or else you’d implode. Logan nodded at you as the lights started to dim around him, a gentle glow from afar lighting the edges of his face. He was still outside but away from the light pollution, an alleyway most likely. Propping his phone up on the closest discarded shelf near a door, he nodded as he pulled out his flask. “No shit I’ve known, you can thank Yukio for that one.” Yukio, your friend. There was no malicious feelings towards her for telling Logan, in fact she may have done you a favor. But it got you thinking, who else did she tell? Was it one giant secret that the whole group knew, hence why they tried to push you both together constantly? “She tells Wade everything.”

And there it was, the shot heard ‘round the world. It made sense that she told Wade, and Wade blabbed to Logan – Yukio would never face the conflict head-on, it went through a source. Releasing the breath you were unaware you were holding, you nodded into the open air as you sunk further against the bed, a bead of sweat gathering on your hairline. The back of your throat felt tight, dry, highly uncomfortable for your own liking. Trying to swallow was like trying to fit a watermelon into a wine bottle, impossible due to how high your blood pressure was. Now that the light pollution of the city wasn’t creating streaks of orange across his screen, he could fully take in your shocked state – seeing the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. “What? You didn’t think I’d feel the same way?” Logan asked honestly, no longer keeping up the teasing. Seeing the distress on your face caused him to pull back, wanting you to tell him when it was good. He wasn’t going to push further; He didn’t want to ruin this.

The chord of your neck worked to string your words together, trying to find the best match to speak. Nothing felt, nor sounded right on your tongue; It drove you mad. “No, but I thought it was a fantasy more than anything.” You squeaked, coughing to bring some moisture back to your throat. Adjusting yourself on the floor, you brought the camera down a bit, pulling it further back for comfort – a typical position for you. Logan noticed though, how he could see you bright and clear as day, in your pale-yellow bra, that you had just for him. The slightly darker color of your nipple crept through the fabric, causing his pants to tighten, but he wouldn’t tease you further unless you felt better. “Can’t fantasies come true?” It was Logan’s last-ditch effort to ease the anxiety rising in your stomach. It helped, hearing him say that. It didn’t feel awkward anymore, it didn’t feel scary. It was beautiful, the start of something more.

“Are you sitting on the floor?” You pulled your camera back to pan it around yourself, showing off your little number as you sat, pulling your legs into a criss-crossed position. “Yeah, I got spooked off my bed thank you very much!” You stated with a smirk, showing how you were teasing. Logan liked how you said it, acting all sassy as you puffed out your bottom lip. It was cute, you looked precious to him. Everything about you made Logan feel alive, like his life was worth living instead of drowning it with the bottle. You made him want to be a better man, to settle down, start a family – anything you wanted he would give you even if you asked. That, is how much he loved you. “Flip your camera around.” He motioned, twirling his finger as he drank from his flask, groaning at the taste.

Obeying his command, you flipped your camera around as you showed him the mirror right in front of you. Waving cutely through it to him, you fluttered your legs as you sat, anticipation eating its way through you. Seeing the softness of your belly against your thong sent his mind spiraling, his eyes flickering to the fabric down further, hoping to God he could see your arousal. For a moment he took you in, how shy you were getting under his gaze. Hell, he could see the goosebumps forming themselves on your thighs, wanting to sink his teeth into the plushness of your flesh. Nudging his head towards you, his next command was on the tip of his tongue. “Spread your legs, c’mon.” The way it rolled out of his mouth like warm honey had your eyes wavering, threatening to roll back.

Slowly you began by uncrossing your legs, sticking your feet up absentmindedly towards the mirror, making sure to wiggle your toes under the stockings. It was a good tactic for teasing; Logan was living for your control. As your clothed claves hit the rug, you started to swing your legs open, letting each inch of the fabric rub against your soft legs. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, which didn’t go unnoticed by Logan, reveling in how responsive you are. “That’s it, good girl.” The fated words that made you lose yourself every time, fell out of Logan’s mouth so naturally. As he spoke that blissful name to you, finally your legs were fully open, able to see every little bit of you. It felt good, right to have his eyes on you. He wasn’t someone who could hide his emotions well nowadays, utterly losing it the longer he stayed with Wade. But in this moment you saw the true reserve on his face, the realization that even though he’s in some back bar’s alleyway, anyone could see him. The arousal coating his face, how his eyes focused harder to make out that tiny banana-yellow stain of your wetness on your panties, he was so lost in this moment. “Lean back, get comfortable. Eyes on me.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded as you leaned back fully against the side of your bed. Reaching to your left, you grabbed at the tripod Nega got you for your birthday this year, shortening the neck of it to sit perfectly to your side. Shaky hands did not make for stable camera work. Something in the back of your mind said this would be the best thing for him; No shaky cam as he directed you, all hands free just for him, it was the perfect pick. Pushing your phone quickly into the top slot of the tripod, you placed your hands on the inside of your thighs, tickling the soft flesh as you awaited Logan’s next words. Beneath the lace, he could see your perky nipples pebbling at the mere instructions he was giving you – silently berating himself for not going over to your apartment and showing you why they call him an animal.

“You’re such a good listener. Don’t think, just do.” You weren’t even trying at this rate, you naturally fell into the submissive role so easily. A commanding personality like Logan always made you fold, obeying each word like it was spoken from God. It’s the reason it made you so special in the bedroom; It’s the reason Logan became obsessed with you. Seeing your submissive side slip through the cracks every now and again made him yearn, a man starved. He could have anyone and all he needed was you. “Listening so well for me.” It was what you could do well in this moment, even with the steady flow of blood pumping through your ears. The whooshing and thumping making it difficult to hear anything other than Logan; The current making room like Moses parted the Red Sea, only he shall walk on through. “Show me, sweetheart.” You felt like you were burning up, from the inside out. Cooking hotter by the words Logan was saying, not able to keep your cool anymore. The husk of his voice, mixed with the lucidness of the alcohol slipping around his tongue made you see stars. If it was possible, you’d cum just from his voice.

Antsy was a perfect descriptor of how you were feeling at the moment, suspense eating right through your chest as the insinuation in Logan’s voice. “Show you what, Lo?” Ah, yes. Your last semblance of control before Logan completely shit-stomped it. An irritated groan fell between Logan’s mouth as he slammed his hands against the wall, the shelving where you were propped up on shaking. His head dangled between his shoulders as he breathed heavily. “Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me.” That was the final straw, the endless teasing towards one another had finally broken. There would never be a way to go back from this, and you fucking thanked whatever or whoever was listening. Check fucking mate, Logan Howlett. That was all you needed to push forward.

You pulled at the side of your panties, swinging it onto the other side of your cunt as you opened your thighs up a bit more. The delicious stretch was aiding in the opening of your folds, letting the crisp air of your room lap through them. Logan drew his head up as he heard your silence, a painful growl slipping through his lips as he drew his brow together in pain. Nothing in this world could’ve prepared him for the sight he sees in front of him, the picture perfect gorgeousness, the thing he wanted tattooed on his brain. It was the purest form of Logan you could’ve possibly gotten; Veins of his neck bulging, eyes slanted so close to being closed, labored breathing like he ran a marathon. This was The Wolverine.

The sight on your phone made a fresh wave of your slick run out of your cunt, seeping onto the thin fabric between your cheeks. Using your first and forefinger to part yourself, you made sure to keeps your eyes on the mirror, eyeing the camera as you rubbed your pearly nub. The bead erect with arousal, begging to be touched. A simple flick of your finger across it had your entire lower half jolting. The sensation almost too much for your sensitive clit. Chewing on your bottom lip to help calm you down, slowly you began to make tentative circles with your first and middle finger, getting used to the sensation as your other hand slipped right under your bed to your secret box, one that no one would suspect.

Logan didn’t miss how you rubbed yourself so tenderly, loving yourself in the greatest way possible, while watching the perverse side of him come alive. He felt so naughty watching you masturbate, listening to his directions in the fucking alleyway. If he ran fast enough, he could be at your apartment before you made yourself orgasm, able to eat you out until you were crying for him to stop. No, this’ll do. He also didn’t miss how you reached frantically under your bed, eyes still on him as you grabbed a velvet bag. The purple glistened against the LED strips lights in your room, the multichrome coloring reflecting rainbows against your fingers. Quickly you worked the bag open, trying to grab at the first toy you could reach. Of course, it was not only the biggest dildo you had, but also happened to be yellow and blue. When Logan saw that, girth and all, he was roiling.

With how wet you were, you didn’t need lube to push your toy into you. Needy didn’t even touch upon how you felt. “Easy there baby, inch at a time. Ease it in, that’s it.” Logan cooed as you struggled to stretch around your toy, the burn already aiding in your arousal. Nodding at Logan’s words, you slowly inched the toy within your tight hole, never letting up on your clit to aid in the stretch. “L-Lo,” you moaned out quickly, eyes rolling back as your head lulled. If Logan was anything like this toy, you’d be unable to walk in the morning, you were hoping for that. “What, sweetheart? Feel too good?” Logan mewled as he gripped his tented cock through his pants, reveling in the harshness at which he was grabbing it. The bark he let out made your body shake, the thickest part of your dildo fully sheathed inside of you. “You deserve to feel this good honey, you’re the best girl.”

The praise was too much as you reached the base of the toy, your lower belly feeling so full of it. Carefully you pulled back on the toy, letting half of it out before you pushed it back in. The rigidness of the silicone rubbing against your spongy spot made you gasp, a throaty moan slipping into the night’s air, echoing throughout Logan’s headphones. “That’s my girl, nice and steady baby.” Logan had no idea what he was even saying anymore, or where he was going. All he knew was that his mouth was going and his feet were moving. Where they’d end up? He’d find out sooner or later. Palming himself as he steadily walked, Logan cut down the corner of the alley, making his way left. “Stretch that cunt out for me honey. I’ll fill you real soon.” Looking down at his screen all he could see was your blissed out face, the hearty stretch of your pussy around your toy, and the absolutely hot sight of your glistening body in his colors. “Just keep going, focus on my voice.”

Nodding at his words, you started to move the toy faster inside of you. The grip you had on the base helped it to conform to your cunt, filling in every ridge. Words escaped you in this moment, all you could do was focus on Logan’s face on your phone, watching how he never looked up at he walked, eyeing you like you were the World Series. Cresting behind your eyes was your orgasm, threatening to take you out with one swipe of your fingers. You couldn’t finish so soon, you wanted Logan to see exactly how it was for you. But there was no use, your arousal was so high, you were going to cum one way or another. The small squeak you let out caused Logan to stop in his tracks, glaring down at the phone will his full, undivided attention. “Look at the mirror baby, watch how sexy you are when you cum.” The breathy moan to which he released those words caused you to unleash the deepest groan you could muster, eyes blown out to nothing as you looked in the mirror.

Just like that, like the snap of your fingers, that string tethering you and Logan together snapped. Everything went white. Your ears rang as your throat became raw – yet no sound broke through. The sweetest coaxing could be heard miles away but yet it faded quickly. The world wasn’t spinning or moving for that matter. Instead, it was just staying still, letting you soak in this orgasmic bliss. Slowly the fog began to clear for you, your vision turning solid again as you watched the mirror. Heavy panting made up the sound coming back. The shaking of your body slowing down the longer you twirled the toy inside of you, rubbing your fingers deftly across your clit. Little by little, the blissful nature of your orgasm satiating that deep hunger looming in your chest. “That’s my good girl, making me so proud.” Logan’s tender voice cut through the staticky sound as your breathing steadiest itself. Licking your lips as you let your eyes wander around your room, you noticed that your tripod was a lot taller than you initially realized, almost looming over you as your fingers never stopped. Only that wasn’t your tripod, and that voice you heard was coming from directly beside you.

“Hi, princess,” Logan smirked into the mirror, meeting your gaze as you realized what was happening. It took a moment for it to register, wondering why he looked so much bigger now. Watching the figure of Logan reach between your legs in the mirror, it only clicked to you when you felt his grip close around the base of the dildo, pulling it out of you with cautionary ease. Shivering from the loss of girth within you, you snapped your head to the right as Logan caught your eyes. Smirking, he waved the wet dildo at you, chuckling as he threw it onto the bed. “H-Hey Logan,” you managed to let out, gulping down the pool of saliva in your bed. Nudging his chin behind you, Logan ran his calloused fingers over your chin, gripping your skin firmly. “Get on the bed.” It wasn’t an ask, it wasn’t a question. It was an order.

“Logan-“ you began, but were stopped when Logan grabbed at your throat, pushing against your pulse point with two fingers. The new sensation made your core clench around nothing, pulsating openly as you looked into Logan’s obsidian eyes, trying to make out what was going to happen. “Now.” Logan ordered, grabbing you by the neck and waist as he helped you up. Standing on wobbly knees was not a good idea, but damn it if it didn’t feel good. It took a moment to acclimate back into your body, Logan’s bodyweight kept you upright as you struggled. “Don’t make me tell you again, you won’t like that.” The threat made you want to break it, break him. Playing a brat for him would be a fun adventure, but the desperate nature of your arousal made you reconsider. Yet you were naturally doing it, and Logan was going to love punishing you later. “Very good girl.” Logan praised as you slowly sat back onto the bed, letting the silky material of the duvet caress your body.

How did he get in here? That was a question crossing your mind, nothing else but how. He wasn’t there all the time and you knew it, remembering that you were FaceTiming him. Narrowing your eyes in the direction of the bedroom door, you thankfully had a clear view to your front door, seeing that it was shut but – not quite perfect anymore. A smirk laid across your lips as you noticed the claw marks on the door, specifically around the doorknob, you assumed on both sides. Plus, the small splinter on top of his hand that he is currently picking out was enough tell for you. Logan had used his claws to unlock your door and get into your apartment. He was never going to the bar, this entire time he was walking to your apartment. It made sense now. This whole time he was coming to make you his. The revelation caused you to whimper out of pure love, no longer lust. Of course though, that didn’t last long. For what you saw next, shook you to your core.

Standing in between your legs was Logan fucking Howlett. The Wolverine. No longer did he wear his TVA jacket he was given earlier this year, but instead stood shirtless over you. The sweat on his body caused his chiseled physique to glisten in your room, his natural musk making your hornier by the second. His pants you had seen earlier of the same color scheme you are wearing, brushing wonderfully against your baren thighs. The reinforced nylon feeling like silk across your skin. Panning your eyes up to his hands, slowly Logan started to release his claws, inch by inch. A pained expression crossed across his mouth at the extension, but he fucking loved it. Why can I only see half of his face? As your eyes made their way upwards, no longer could you see his darkened eyes, instead replaced with something that shouldn’t have been considered hot. Across his eyes, around the top of his head was The Wolverine cowl, complete with, as Wade called them, blowjob handles. The animal himself, standing right between your legs.

You sunk back slowly on your elbows, stretching your legs open wider to fit all of him. Biting your lip, you looked up at Logan between your lashes, panting like a bitch in heat as you take him all in. “You want to see the real power yellow and blue really holds?” He growled, lightly tracing the dull edge of his claws against your sides. Yes, you do. Needless to say, this was the start of you wearing his colors, especially if this would happen every time.

----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @pinkanonwriting @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones

[xiatarot]

pick a pile: your next relationship

< choose an image >

take what resonates, leave what doesn’t.

for entertainment purposes only.

♡

I.

significant signs: big trees, snoopy, rabbits, spider webs, pictures of your grandparents, angel wings, 777, 8, 16, 1717.

zodiac signs: sagittarius, libra, virgo, cancer, aquarius, leo, gemini.

dear pile 1, it seems like the universe here has a different message for you but it's definitely one that you'll need to hear. your next relationship is essentially with yourself. spirit is urging you to look within, and find the love you seek in yourself. love and affection don't necessarily always have to come from a romantic partner; look around you and you'll find many different sources. you have a strong support system, wether in the 3D or spiritually, or both. there's a need for you to retreat and keep yourself in that hermit energy. there's some things you'll need to let go of in order to close a particularly difficult chapter of your life, and as the end of the year approaches, now it's the perfect time to let go of all those negative energies pulling you back from being who you dream of being, so that 2025 can feel like a fresh new beginning. some of you might struggle with addictions or, generically speaking, things that distract you on a daily basis and take you away from spending time doing other more fulfilling things that could benefit you long-term. now it's the time to reconsider your priorities and make amends with the past. what's behind you shouldn't keep you from moving forward. it would be beneficial to open up to one of multiple friends, don't be afraid to ask for help. to-do lists and physical self-care could also help a lot. remember that whatever you're going through it's temporary and it will pass. don't go back to unhealthy situations and toxic behaviors for temporary comfort, act out of love for your future self. take care.

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channeled song:

♡

II.

significant signs: singing, white candles, rainstorms, black guitar picks, silver scissors, anxiety meds, journaling, 12, 444, 1010, 6,333.

zodiac signs: leo, aquarius, capricorn, gemini, libra, virgo, aries.

you will meet your next partner at work or this person will offer you a job opportunity. i'm seeing someone receiving bouquets of flowers at their office. this person could be very conventionally attractive, so much that you wouldn't believe they'd be into you, but they will. this will boost your confidence on the long run. you will meet this person at a time in your life where you feel lost or trapped in some kind of situation that might have to do with finances or unemployment. this person will take it in their interests to do the best they can to help you and take you out of your misery. i think they'll be very financially abundant. beware of jealousy that could arise around you, they could have many eyes on them, for some of you they could even be a public figure or someone that's just relatively known on social media. your person will spend a lot of time observing you and trying to read you from afar, they could've been hurt in the past so they'll take a slow and careful approach for fear that you might turn out to be another lesson for them. this relationship will force you to face insecurities and you might have a hard time in terms of self-esteem and confidence initially. communication and honesty are essential here, as lots of misunderstandments could arise out of it. they will definitely be the one to make the first move. this relationship will be filled with passion and could even lead to marriage if that's something you both want. finances won't be a problem for either of you. brace yourself cause it seems like your person is right around the corner! very happy for you :)

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♡

III.

significant signs: the beatles, monkeys, palm trees, fur boots, cocktails, germany, hummingbirds, golden necklace, december, 1212, 222, 888, 555.

zodiac signs: leo, libra, cancer, sagittarius, capricorn, taurus.

your next relationship will be all about healing. whoever this person is, they will almost surprise you with how much love they'll hold for you. it's like finally feeling warmth after spending a whole life out in the cold. i'm seeing someone deeply stuck in their insecurities and self sabotaging tendencies, your mind might tell you you're not deserving of love and this person will take it as their mission to make you believe you are. it's a gentle and caring type of love, one that speaks through actions rather than words. this person will be your anchor and just overall someone you can count on at all times. they're very caring and sweet, they'll treat you as if you were glass. there'll be a lot of deep conversations and opening up to each other. this relationship will be based on trust. it could be someone you already know or already know of. you might have mutual friends and meet at a party or a special occasion that will require you to dress a bit fancier than usual. this person will immediately want to strike a conversation with you and they'll be endeared by your shyness and modesty. it's a relationship that will heal your relationship with yourself and help you see you're much more deserving and worthy than you were raised to believe. you'll definitely have a family together in the future :).

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[reasonreblogs]

Same for both. The thing with explaining the reasons with an apology for me is part of the “I recognize how this action was wrong and how I ended up doing this thing that hurt you. I will be making an effort to stop this behavior. I hope you feel okay calling me out on it going forward. I want to assure you that I am aware of what I did, why I did it, that I am going to be working on it, that this hurt you, and that I’m sorry I did this.”

To me the reasons and why it happened shows that they understand and how likely they are to keep doing the same things or if thy ran it, that kind of thing. I’ve had someone who was basically overdosing on Xanax day spent the most horrible shit to me, hitting every insecurity I had about our friendship and after the fact *not* apologize and just said something like “I didn’t reply mean it, I just said crazy shit because I was prescribed a higher dose of Xanax than a person should be.”

Like… okay, I get that… and… it would mean something if you said “I’m sorry, I know it hurt you and I said a lot of things I knew would hurt most. I didn’t know I was prescribed higher dose than I should’ve been until recently and it really fucked with my head in a way that I wasn’t myself.” Instead, I wasn’t sure if she actually meant what she said looking back or if she’d do it again only without her mind being fucked up.

She gave the reason without the apology which made it an excuse and a “so you can’t be upset with anything I said” when she could scroll back and see exactly the things she said to me even if she didn’t quite remember. However, with an apology, I would be able to believe she didn’t mean it and was in a state of mind where she was actively looking to be as hurtful as possible rather than actually believing hat she said. It’s kind of like how some people go turn out to be suicidal try to make everyone around them hate them before going through with it under the notion it’d “hurt less” when it happens. I think of one or two popular youtubers who did exactly that, posting outrageous bigoted shit before disappearing and after hearing they killed themselves, it clicked that’s what they were doing.

As for the telling a story for how thy relate (as I did above actually lol) it’s like… “listen here’s a thing I went through… to me it sounds like what you’re going through, so I hope what I did to get through it helps or if talking to someone who might understand better makes you feel okay talking about this.”

It’s like… it adds some weight or legitimacy to what the person you’re talking to is saying for me. I’d be more likely to take their advice or reflect on how I handle or perceive it vs how they might have. When someone isn’t grasping at all what you’re saying, it turns into defending why you’re feeling and going through rather than being able to just… talk about it.

Idk, been thinking on the nuance of this for a while. I like reasons, I like getting an idea on if this will happen again or not. There’s just a lot of “depends on the person/situation” tho.

[pseudophan]

PHANNIE COOKBOOK SIGN-UPS!!

Do you have a really good recipe you think Dan and Phil would enjoy? Consider submitting it to this collaborative phannie cookbook that will be given to DnP at a meet & greet! It will also be available to everyone to download as a PDF.

Family recipes or your favourite dish from your country/culture is a bonus, but it doesn’t have to be that personal. All I ask is that you don’t go rip something random off the Internet right now just to be in the book, I want food you genuinely enjoy!

I’ve decided the most efficient way of doing this is to let you submit up to 3 different options, that way if there are any repeats (and I’m certain there will be) I won’t have to message everyone it concerns to ask if you have any alternatives. Besides, that way I can choose which version gets in based on your other options rather than which one “sounds better” to me, cause I think that would be a little unfair. I also have no idea how many people will actually participate in this yet, which is currently the biggest hurdle in terms of planning. If only a few sign up there is a chance we’ll end up using multiple recipes by some, and if somehow we get too many I’ll have to pick and choose. I do really want to include as many people as possible, but until I actually see the recipes it’s hard to tell what will end up happening.

The main focus of this will be actual food, but we obviously need to include a few desserts, so feel free to submit those as well just be aware the chances of those getting picked might be lower. The same goes for soups, I assume a lot of people have soup recipes and we might include a couple, but for obvious reasons it's a low priority.

Some key things to keep in mind:

Phil is a bit picky and has some dietary restrictions! He shouldn’t have dairy or chocolate and he doesn’t like cheese or mushrooms, among other things. That doesn’t mean you have to avoid these things entirely, but maybe your grandma’s mac and cheese recipe isn’t the best choice

While neither of them is vegan they do eat a lot of vegan food, so we definitely need some vegan dishes. I also think it would be really great if you suggested vegetarian and/or vegan substitutions you know work well with your recipe! That isn’t a must for every dish, but it’s a nice addition where possible

Tragically, Dan and Phil are British, meaning they won’t necessarily have access to all the same ingredients as you. Luckily they are also rich and live in a major city with a lot of options so they aren’t limited to what they can find at their local Tesco, but since the aim of this book is to encourage them to cook we probably shouldn’t be sending them on a scavenger hunt either. I don’t think this will be a huge issue, but if your recipe calls for something you think might be very niche or local to you it might be worth googling it or asking around

The final book will be using UK measurements, but if your recipe doesn’t then don’t even worry about it for now. We’ll get to that later. You also don’t have to worry about typing out the whole step-by-step in detail in the sign-up form, I just need a list of the ingredients and roughly how to prepare it to gauge whether it’s a good fit.

I promise I’m almost done yapping but lastly, about some of the questions on the form - you don’t need to know exactly how long the dish takes to prepare, that will depend on the person or people making it anyway, but we do need a rough estimate. The difficulty level is obviously quite subjective, but I just want to hear how you personally would rank it, and if there is a specific part of the process you think someone who doesn’t cook a lot might struggle with. As for the last question about photos, I’m asking both if you have the time and opportunity to make the food and if you are able to take a good photo of it. Obviously it doesn’t have to be anything professional, a phone camera is fine, it just needs to be well lit and decent quality.

Okay, I think that’s everything-

Here's the sign-up form

The deadline is in a week, at midnight Thursday to Friday CET :)

(I also made a blog for this @phookbook for information and updates! A lot of it will probably still be on this blog, but I'll try to post/reblog the most important things on there for those who want to keep up with everything but who may not want to deal with all the chaos of pseudophan)