#this season was a mixed bag for me

[putonmyfavoriteshow]

S2 opener was a great start to the season. Really got me excited again to be back on this binge but nothing compares to the pilot <3

It was a fun episode reuniting everybody and picking up after their summer break. Everyone’s already growing up 🥺

I think it does a good job setting up the new season. Some characters have regressed, but others are making their way!

And the mystery is finally cooking 🧑‍🍳

I’m already excited to revisit some of my favorite storylines this season while also dreading Matteo’s arrival and some less than enjoyable b plots. But I’m ready for the roller coaster that is s2!

Time to see if it really is my least favorite season, or the best parts of the series actually make up for it.

[signanothername]

Finished watching S2 of Earthspark and-

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED

[faunandfloraas]

hey sorry for the stupid question but what is the weather like in australia? I used to think it was really hot there most of the year but when chanlix or skz are filming in australia it's not that sunny and it's it doesn't look like it's really hot either lol

Climate change gets the best of us </3 skz has only ever visited Melbourne and Sydney, these are both south eastern states so unlike say Western Australia or the Northern Territory or even Queensland, we aren't as hot as they are- contrary to the image of Australia that tends to exist I.e literal desert in the outback, we get winter and we get rain, it's autumn right now and today's forecasted temp is 27°c so... that's not exactly cold, but it's not always hot? It's all over the place lol

[sodacowboy]

finally trying roasted carrots tonight

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: August 8

“Big Black Car" by Gregory Alan Isakov

[o-uncle-newt]

I do love that Aziraphale is willing to give away the Doctor Who annual but is only willing to lend the signed Erdnase. He'll never not be a magician at heart and he won't give that up.

On that note, I just found the post I did about Erdnase when Neil released the word from the script.

Turns out I threw just about every possible theory at the wall to see what stuck, and so my suggestion that Aziraphale owns a first edition with identifying info about the author ended up being correct, but also, obviously. I'd have been more surprised if Aziraphale, who owned the original Book of Revelations, did NOT own a signed first edition The Expert at the Card Table with clues to the author's identity.

(Also, I strongly disliked the joke about Jane Austen, but I'd have loved jokes about the true identity of SW Erdnase and his exploits.)

The thing I DO want to pat myself on the back for, though, is this:

Now, personally, having thought about it for the five minutes it took for me to get this far down in the reblog, my favorite way for Erdnase to be incorporated would be that, if I'm understanding the little tidbits of info that have come out, it seems very possible that Aziraphale and Crowley have lost some, if not all, of their angelic powers and connections. So could one, or both, of them be trying to recoup some skills by learning them out of a book- or possibly multiple books? Now that I type it out it doesn't SEEM likely but it would be cool.

BECAUSE I WAS RIGHT! It was in a minisode but I was STILL RIGHT! Aziraphale does use sleight of hand in a situation where he no longer has magical powers. It's not because he lost his magic in the present, and it's not related to Erdnase himself, but THAT STILL HAPPENED. And it was, and still is, my favorite of the theories that I had at the time. So that's pretty dang cool.

(That said, I do think that the "miracle blocking card" was a ridiculous plot device that makes no sense and seems far too convenient for them not to be used all the time. But it let my theory be accurate so I don't care for right now.)

[sanguith]

i'm glad i decided to try out a ketosis diet again (aka changing my metabolism to basically only use ketone bodies made from fatty acids for energy by reducing carb intake to max 20g/day) for a few weeks because it was a neat experiment but i'm also glad I decided to stop because now i get to enjoy life's greatest fucking simplest yet finest delicacy: mashed potatoes/sweet potatoes with melted butter and salt. i cannot understand how i could live without that. just. vegetables. keto has opened my eyes to new ways to cook foods and experiment with ingredients but i don't think i can live without carbs. i doubt that the majority of people could. also have you any idea how much good simple near-zero effort food there is out there like holy gosh darn in heaven. i don't have to spend hours cooking something to have a nice meal

[vonlipvig]

and with that, i'm done with black mirror once again! here's my ranking of all the episodes of season 6, from most liked to least liked (and how they stand in my series-wide list):

loch henry (overall #8)

beyond the sea (overall #11)

demon 79 (overall #21)

mazey day (overall #22)

joan is awful (overall #26)

[lesboylycan]

making chicken nuggets for dinner because the little beastie in my brain hates eating anything that isn't portioned into tiny bite-sized pieces

[thetwstwildcard]

For my love of Gregory Violet you'd think I'd like Idia-

But like, He's my least favorite character??? Ironically because the angst he went through is like amazing story telling and I'm here for it. Just hate that such a good story is tied to him 😂😭

And I'm a greek mythology nerd with Hercules being one of my favorite Disney movies. I'm suffering-

[valiasims]

Cozy Cabin Collection - Entryway

Hey everyone!

A little later than I would have wanted but here's my latest set I created, called Cozy Cabin. As I said earlier I want to make more sets with this theme and I plan to add some holiday objects for Halloween or even Christmas if I feel I'm enjoying the theme until then! This way we could follow through the seasons with this theme and decorate our cozy cabins to match the current season. I hope you'll join me on this road because I am excited to see the cabin come to life.

This first set is based around the entryway. I wanted to make a built-in system with shelves, cabinets and a little nook to allow sims to sit and (imagine that they) put their shoes on. Then this idea became bigger, I wanted to add a door and windows (which I didn't have time for but I still want to make) and then I started to make walls. Please, remind me next time to do not make this many walls when I haven't got too much time on my hands because I struggled to save all heights and swatches for all of them.

The built-in system has a coat rack backing part where you can snap the metal hooks to so they'll stay together and can be mix and matched. The bigger cabinet functions as a dresser.

You can put together the built-in different ways: without the bench, using the cabinets instead of the backing, building a little reading nook with them. The swatches let you to use this set in different setting as well, I think they'd look good in a farmhouse style home, or a coastal one.

(The boxes on the shelves are mostly from the Dream Home Decorator pack since I didn't have time to make some and I didn't want to show them empty.)

Let me know what you think and how you like it!

The Set Includes

Entrance Door (short and medium height)

Built-in Dresser

Built-in Shelf

Built-in Coat Rack Backing

Built-in Cabinet

Built-in Cabinet Shelf

Built-in Wooden Bench

Hallway Table (2 sizes)

Armchair

Fur Blanket

Metal Hook (5 variations: empty, coat, bag, beret, hat)

Plaid Cushion

Vase With Branches

Autumnal Books

Wall - Pioneer Wood Siding (horizontal, vertical)

Wall - Wood Paneling

Wall - Wood Panels

Wall - Wood Trunk Wall

-BECOME A MEMBER- Public release on the 16th of October 6PM CST

[sceletaflores]

all's fair in love and viscera...

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader wc: 6.7k contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, violence, blood, gore (more so thoughts of gore) nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, fighting as foreplay, bleeding as foreplay, written with X2 logan in mind, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), finger sucking hehehe, light choking, hair pulling, blood play, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, scent kink, pain kink, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n. author’s note: i have a rotting note that says "logan spar fic turned face sitting" so that's what this is but it kinda got a little weird lol i also just wanted an excuse to write more about the mutant ability that's been bopping around in my brain since watching season four of the boys. kisses!

logan wants to spar...

You can smell him before he even opens the door to the training room.

It’s funny, because almost all blood smells the exact same. It melds into one coppery, metallic tang that stings your nose everywhere you go.

Mutant blood is only slightly different, something sharper with a tartness that lingers in the air longer, that tingles along the edge of your senses and burns the back of your throat.

Logan's blood is something entirely different.

The first time you met him it almost brought you to your knees. It was so overwhelming, the smell swarming you so intoxicating and all encompassing that it made you feel dizzy.

Logan’s blood is a wild mix of earthy musk and something like charred wood. His scent carries an electric charge, like the smell of air right before a thunderstorm, like ozone after a lightning strike.

It's like nothing you've ever encountered before—hot and acidic, with a barely there underlying sweetness that never fails to turn your insides to liquid. It seems to defy normalcy, bending the rules of what you know about blood and biology.

You know in the back of your mind that it's the adamantium. It's been fused to his skeleton for so long, it must be something chemical. A reaction happening in his body that makes it so distinctly different.

Part of you likes to think that it's just Logan, that the scent is a reflection of everything he is. The raw, untamed essence of his nature, something primal that’s deeply ingrained in his being.

The door creaks open behind you, you make it a point to keep your focus on the punching bag. You've been here for hours, your arms only finally starting to burn with exertion. The bag feels solid and grounding under your taped knuckles, swinging lightly with every hit.

Logan's heavy footsteps get closer and closer, echoing through the empty room until he's striding past you to lean against the wall next to the bag's rig.

You don't look at him, but you can feel his gaze—an intense, almost palpable thing.

“Figured you’d be down here,” Logan's voice is the familiar rough and gravelly rumble you've become used to, cutting through the silence between the two of you with a barely there teasing edge. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Logan has an even better sense of smell than you do, and he can sniff out a lot more than blood. You're sure he knew you were here this whole time, that he could smell you from his room two stories up.

You give a small, noncommittal grunt, ignoring him as you throw another punch. Sweat is dotted across your hairline, it drips down the small of your back and the column of your throat. It's not that you don't like Logan, that you don’t want him here, you have the complete opposite of that problem.

You like Logan too much, more than you should.

Every time he’s near, you’re intensely aware of how much his presence affects you, of the way all the blood in your body starts to sizzle under your skin with a throbbing need that's getting harder and harder to ignore. It’s like a constant, low-grade fever that only flares up when he gets too close. 

“Come on, kid. You can’t ignore me all night,” he says, thick arms crossing over his chest. "Don't make me beg."

You let out a breath, more exasperated than anything else, and finally turn to face him. Logan’s standing there, all broad shoulders and rugged confidence in his white tank and gray sweats, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

That smirk—it's almost as dangerous as the claws hidden just underneath his skin.

“Didn’t know you were the begging type.” Your attempt to sound casual is overpowered by the slight breathy edge of your voice. You blame it on the workout.

Logan's smirk widens just a fraction, and you can tell he's caught the hitch in your voice. His eyes, sharp and knowing, narrow in on you with that familiar mix of amusement and something you can't quite place, something that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Only when I really want something," he replies easily.

Your form falters, just barely, but it’s enough for Logan to notice. You can hear the amused huff he lets out.

You throw another punch at the bag, more to steady yourself than anything else. The impact reverberates through your knuckles, but it doesn't do much to dispel the heat pooling low in your stomach.

"Back to ignoring me?" he asks, needling. You can see the raise of his brow in your peripheral vision.

“Trying to,” you mutter under your breath, though it's more to yourself than to him. You keep your gaze locked firmly on the bag, willing your pulse to steady.

"What's that?" he leans in closer, his scent wafting over to you as he does. Somehow stronger than before, an assault on your senses. You barely conceal a shiver.

"It’s not my fault you’re here when I'm at my least chatty," you retort blandly, a little louder, willing your voice to sound as steady as it can.

"Looks to me like you’re always at your least chatty,” he shoots back, not showing any signs of backing down.

"It's late,” you reply tersely.

"Yeah," he says. "It is late."

The words hang in the air, laced with a double meaning that neither of you acknowledges.

"Too late to be up hounding the bags like they owe you money," he adds, the tone of his voice almost gentle in a way that catches you off guard. Nothing like the Logan you're used to.

“Yeah, well,” you grunt, throwing a particularly sharp jab. “Some of us don’t need all the beauty sleep."

Logan lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, you can feel the vibration of it in your bones. "Funny," he muses to himself, voice going quiet like he's turning your words over in his mind. "I can see why Charles keeps you around."

You huff, sweaty brows knitting together in frustration. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”

“Babysit?” He smirks, clearly amused. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

Your resolve finally cracks, your fists sore when you drop them to your sides and turn to Logan with a questioning look on your face.

"What do you want, Logan?”

It sounds harsher than you meant it, rough and exasperated as you start to catch your breath for the first time since he walked in.

Logan doesn't respond, just pushes off the wall to step closer. His scent hits you like a truck now that your focus is solely on him, you can feel your blood start to thrum under your veins. The sweat dripping down your back feels like it’s igniting the tension in your body, and Logan’s only making it worse the closer he gets.

He stops a little less than a foot away from you. It’s too close, he evades your space until all you can see is him. The width of his shoulders, the strong muscle of his chest and torso filling your view.

Logan doesn't say anything for a few beats, just stares down at you with a studying look on his face. It's a struggle to keep still under the intensity of his gaze. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the rhythmic thud loud in your ears as the silence stretches between you.

He tilts his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing as he trails them over your sweaty face. You're seconds away from saying something, from turning and running with your tail between your legs, when he beats you to it.

He lets out an amused scoff, shaking his head as he walks past you to the large blue training mat in the middle of the room.

"C'mon," he calls over his shoulder, "Try hitting something that hits back, might help clear your head."

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but Logan’s already made his way to the center of the mat, turning to face you with a challenging glint in his eye.

You shake your head slowly, not moving from your place across the room. "I don't want to fight you."

Logan chuckles wryly, “Could’ve fooled me, sweetheart.”

The nickname sends a jolt through you, your pulse skipping in response. It’s always the way he says it—rough around the edges but with a softness that’s almost affectionate. You clench your fists tight, as if the simple act of it will keep your thoughts in check.

"Think you can keep up?" he teases, rolling his shoulders in that casual, self-assured way of his. But there's something in his tone, a challenge that makes you want to prove yourself.

You cast your eyes to the ceiling, exasperated, a bemused laugh bubbling from your chest as you do. "You know I can," you reply, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you. "This isn't about that."

You should just say no. You should say no and go back up to your room so you can go to bed and forget all about this in the morning. You can barely stand to be in the same room with Logan for more than thirty minutes at a time, training with him is too much of a risk.

"What's it about then? You scared?" Logan's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, a playful smirk curling his lips. He raises an eyebrow, daring you to join him.

That does it. A spark of defiance flares in your chest, overriding the nervous tension that’s been building since he walked in. You’re not one to back down from a fight, especially when Logan's practically begging for one.

Without thinking, you stride over to the mat.

Logan watches you approach, his stance relaxed but ready, like a predator sizing up its prey. You try your best to ignore the smug look on his face as you kick off your shoes and join him.

"Not scared," you shrug, running your fingers over the tape on your knuckles. "I just don't need you getting all pissy when I win." You roll your shoulders, shake out your arms, and square up, focusing on the way Logan’s eyes are locked on yours.

Logan's grin widens, a flash of sharp teeth that makes your pulse quicken. "We'll see about that."

You drop into a ready stance, the tension in your muscles coiled tight like a spring. For a moment, neither of you moves, just sizing each other up. The silence between you stretches taut like a bowstring. Your eyes lock onto Logan's, each of you reading the other, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The air between you feels like it's vibrating, charged with a mix of tension, anticipation, and something else—something unspoken, simmering just beneath the surface.

Then, in a blur of motion, Logan makes the first move, just like you expected him to. He lunges, fast and strong, but you're ready for him, sidestepping the blow and bringing your forearm up to deflect his fist away from your body.

"Slow start, old man?" you quip, a sly smile tugging at your lips as you regain your footing. "Speed isn't what it used to be?"

Logan chuckles, a low and throaty sound. "Just warming up, sweetheart. Don't want you crying unfair when I take you down too quick."

You scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically before launching your own attack. You swing a swift roundhouse kick aimed at his midsection. He anticipates the move, catching your ankle with one hand while his other reaches out to grab your wrist.

But you're quicker. Using the momentum, you twist your body and slip free from his grasp, landing lightly back on your feet a few steps away. The brief contact sends a jolt up your leg, his touch searing even through the thick layer of your sweats.

"Stop holding back," you say roughly, your lips turned down in a displeased frown. "Hit me."

Logan's eyes flash with amusement. "Careful what you wish for."

He advances again, this time more aggressive. He throws a combination of punches—left, right, left—each one precise and controlled. You block the first two, but the third grazes past your defenses, skimming your rib cage hard enough to sting.

You hiss softly at the impact but don't back down. Instead, you duck low and sweep your leg out in a wide arc, aiming to knock him off balance. Logan slides back just in time, your foot swiping through empty air as he evades the attack with a kind of brute grace that you wouldn’t expect.

"Getting fancy now?" he remarks, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face.

You don't respond, springing to your feet with a raised fist in a swift uppercut. This time you connect, your knuckles catching his stubbled jaw with a loud 'crack'. Your whole hand throbs, you can feel the break in your thumb snap back together in a sharp pinch.

Logan stumbles back a step, his head snapping to the ceiling with the force of your hit. When he turns back to you, there's a large bruise blooming along the sharp cut of his jaw. You watch the color of it spread across his skin, angry reds and dull purples that fade as fast as they appear.

There's a glint of something dangerous in his eyes as he meets your gaze. The brown of them darker than before, his pupils blown out and glossy in a way you've never seen.

With a low growl, he comes at you again, faster this time. His movements a blur of muscle and intent. You manage to block the first hit, but not the second, his fist catches your side with enough power to make you stumble back a few steps. Pain flares white hot through your ribs, but you grit your teeth and bear it.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the fight. The world narrows down to the two of you, the sound of your breaths and the feel of his skin brushing against yours in fleeting moments of contact.

There's a thrill in it, in the way you challenge each other, in the way you push past your own boundaries.

But there's also something more, something deeper. Every time your eyes lock, you can feel the electricity between you, the way your heart skips a beat, the way your breath catches in your throat. It's not just about the fight anymore. 

You feel more alive than you have in a long time. More alive with every sting of each new blow, with the way your muscles burn, with the stray hairs that stick to your forehead.

The heat between you is almost tangible, mixing with the sweat and exertion. Every punch, every block, sends a jolt of adrenaline through your system, making it both exhilarating and maddening.

The scent of him—earthy, electric, and utterly intoxicating—growing stronger with every second. Your senses are on high alert, every part of you tuned in to his presence.

It wraps around your whole being, making it hard to think straight. But you don’t need to think—you just move, letting your instincts take over.

Logan feints to the left and uses it to sweep your legs out from under you in the same move he mocked you for. Your back hits the floor with a hard thud, the give of the mat not doing much to soften the hardwood underneath.

All the breath in your lungs rushes out of you in a sharp gasp. Before you can recover, Logan is looming over you. He cages your body under his own, thick arms on either side of your head, his weight pressing you further into the floor. His breath is hot against your ear as he leans in close, his voice a low, almost growling murmur.

"Gotcha."

You try to come up with a witty comment, a snarky line, a petty insult. Anything at all really—but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you just stare up at him, your chest heaving violently, your heart pounding so loud you're sure he can hear it.

The whole room feels like it’s spinning, and for a moment, all you can focus on is the intensity in Logan’s eyes, the heat of him against you.

Suddenly, your entire body feels like it's on fire. Phantom flames lapping at every inch of your skin that send your head reeling quicker than you can blink. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but you've only ever felt it outside of a mission once, and it didn't end well.

For a few heart stopping seconds, you're more than confused. Panic starts to set in at the thought of having another "accident" and not even knowing what's triggering it.

Through the messy haze of your panic, you finally see it. The tiny cut above Logan's brow leaking a thin trail of red down the side of his face.

Everything around you dissolves into static, your eyes zeroing in on that single bead of crimson. The cut's long gone by the time it drips from his jaw to the mat right next to your shoulder. Logan's skin stitching back together and leaving no trace that it was ever broken in the first place, but it doesn't matter.

The damage is already done, and you can feel your body start to react.

You can feel your resolve crumbling, the edges of your self-control fraying with every passing second. Your own blood pulses beneath your skin like liquid fire as your stomach churns and twists. The intense need to feel, to taste, to take claws at your throat.

You let out a low, guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, as you lose the last of your control.

Hank had called it a frenzy, but that wasn't a technical term.

"You're not in your right mind. You've essentially been conditioned to react strongly to the scent and sight of blood, particularly when you're already in a heightened emotional or physical state. The combination of adrenaline, exertion, and the scent triggers this...well, this 'frenzy' for lack of a better term."

It's like you blackout, and when you wake up, you're straddling Logan's chest with your hand wrapped around his throat in a vice-like grip. The tan column of his throat glowing red beneath your hand, a map of blue veins inked along his skin like spiderwebs as you watch the blood pulse through them.

Your grip tightens instinctively, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to reign in the storm swirling inside you. Everything narrows down to the pounding in your ears, the blazing heat of Logan's skin under your fingers, and the urge to let go, to give in.

Logan's voice starts to trickle in around the static buzzing in your ears, your name falling from his lips sounds strained, but there's a calmness to it. The fog of your instincts begins to fade, the world around you slowly starting to piece back together.

You blink, the haze in your mind clearing as you try to focus on his face, the way his eyes are locked onto yours. Intense, but not clouded with fear like you expected.

Your chest heaves with every breath, ragged and short like they're being ripped out of your lungs. Your wide eyes dropping to where your hand is still locked around his throat, panic surges in your chest like ice freezing over a lake.

But before you can do anything, Logan's reaching up, his hand catching your wrist in a tight grip. His thumb brushes over your pulse point—the touch sends a jolt through you, as if he’s touched a live wire.

“Don't,” he says, like he knows what you're thinking, his voice a rough whisper. The rasp of it vibrates against your hand. “Don't stop now."

Logan’s other hand comes up to rest on your hips, his touch firm but not forceful. He doesn’t try to wrestle control away from you; instead, he holds you steady. His fingers dig into your skin, grounding you.

“Come on,” he coaxes, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends a shiver of anticipation through you. “I can take it. Give it to me.”

The world around you blurs, your focus entirely on the man beneath you, the way his body feels under your hands, the way he’s willingly surrendering to your control.

You take a breath, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. You search his eyes, dark and full of want. There's a heat there, a spark that crackles between you, and it only adds fuel to your fire.

If he wants to push, you're ready to push back.

Silently, you slide your hand up the expanse of his throat, feeling the way his pulse beats strong and fast under your palm. The glow under his skin dissipates as you make your way up, tracing your fingers over his jaw and up to his bottom lip.

Logan’s breathing is rapid, his chest rising and falling under you quicker than before. His lips are slick and red, parted so enticingly that you can help but slide your index finger over them. Your nail digs into the fat of his bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to let him feel it.

Logan lets you toy with him, meets your gaze head on as you push further. Your finger presses deeper, pushing past the seam of his lips to feel the warmth of his mouth, the wet glide of his tongue against your skin.

The sharp bite of Logan's teeth pinches your skin as he closes his lips around your finger and sucks.

Your breath catches in your throat, heat blooming in your core as his tongue brushes over the pad of your finger. You can feel the ache of your cunt between your legs, arousal leaking wet and sticky in your panties.

Your other hand rises up to rest on the side of his face, your fingers grazing over his cheekbone. The touch feather-light but filled with a fierce, unspoken energy. Logan’s breath hitches slightly, his eyes darkening even further.

Your palm splays over the skin of his cheek, the heat of his face seeping into your hand. Logan’s eyes close for a moment, his breath coming in shallow bursts as he tilts his head into your touch.

In a quick move, you dig your fingernails into the fat of his cheek roughly. Logan’s body arches under you, his back snapping off the mat with guttural groan ripping from his chest as you pierce his skin.

You gasp at the scent of him wafting up through the air, at the feeling of his teeth digging into your own flesh. His blood leaking onto the tips of your fingers feels like a shock to your system, both electrifying and terrifying.

His skin glows even brighter than before. A mix of reds and oranges that light up just beneath his skin, the blue of his veins like rivers on a map. Your nails dig deeper into his skin, drawing more blood, the warm, sticky liquid coating your fingers. You watch, mesmerized, as the glow under his skin pulses in response, as if feeding off your energy, amplifying the connection between you.

Logan’s breath hitches, his body tensing beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into your touch, his eyes dark and hooded with desire.

it takes barely any energy from you. The faintest traces of your power used for something none of those demented scientists in white lab coats intended.

None of that matters. All that matters is the raw, animalistic connection between you—the way his body is responding to your touch, the way his eyes shine with want, the way his blood sings in harmony with yours.

You could boil Logan alive in less than a second, burst every vessel and capillary in his body until he's nothing more than a copper stain on the floor. But his hands only tighten their grip on your waist to drag you impossibly closer.

"More," Logan growls, his voice vibrating against your palm as his teeth sink a little deeper into your finger, the heat of his breath searing against your skin. He hooks his hands under your thighs, dragging your body up his chest until your legs are spread on either side of his head. 

Your hands fly to his hair, steadying yourself with two fist fulls of the brown tufts that sit atop his head. You’ve always been curious if Logan styles his hair this way on purpose, or if it just grows like that naturally. You don't have time to ponder it for long before he's letting out another ragged groan and burying his face between your thighs.

You can feel the heat of his breath over the clothed expanse of your cunt, his nose trailing along the inseam of your sweats as he inhales greedy lungfuls of your scent.

"Logan," you gasp, voice gone high and breathy around the edges.

"Tell me what you want," he says lowly, his lips brushing over you with every word.

It's muffled slightly, but the demand in his tone still sends a shock through you. Your grip on his hair tightens as your mind falls into a whirl of sensations and emotions you couldn't possibly confront.

He presses a heated kiss against the fabric of your sweats, right over where your aching clit pulses with need. The sensation sends an electric jolt straight through your core. Your whole body hums with an intense craving, a need that burns hot and fierce.

"Tell me," he repeats, his voice a rough rasp that vibrates against your core.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as you try to form a coherent thought, let alone speak.

"I want..." you start, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and desire. The words are there, lodged in your throat, but saying them out loud feels like crossing a line you’re not sure you’re ready to cross.

"I need you,” you breathe out, the confession slipping from your lips like a secret finally set free “I need everything.”

Logan’s eyes flare with something fierce and wild. Without a word, he pulls you closer, his hands surging up to tear through the fabric of your clothes like it's nothing but tissue paper. The tattered remains of your panties and sweats pool to the floor in a crumpled mess.

The heat of his breath is replaced by the pressure of his mouth, his tongue sliding through the wet slit of your cunt. He lets out a filthy groan at the first real taste of you, the flat of his tongue lapping eagerly through your dripping slit.

The thrill of his mouth against your most sensitive spots sends a jolt through your entire body, your back arching taut as you grip his hair even tighter. Logan’s groan reverberates through you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your core.

Logan is relentless, devouring you like he’s been starving for this, starving for you. The wet sounds of his mouth working you over mix with your breathless whimpers and the low growls rumbling from his chest. He works his tongue expertly, tracing every inch of you, mapping out every spot that makes you tremble and moan.

Your thighs tighten around his head, hips grinding against his face almost unintentionally as heat starts coiling tight in your belly. The scruff of his jaw rubs against the sensitive skin of your thighs with each drag of his head, the sting of it just adds to the assault of pleasure. You wish he could leave his mark on you, wish that your skin wouldn’t work overtime to fix the angry red blotches of raw skin he leaves in his wake.

Logan grips you hard enough that you can see the bruises decorating your skin every time you look down. His arms firm and strong where they’re locked around your thighs to keep you pressed against his mouth. His nose bumps against your throbbing clit each time he fucks his tongue into your leaking cunt.

“Logan,” you moan, your voice a breathy plea that only seems to spur him on. He flicks his tongue over your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a harsh pull that makes you cry out, your whole body shuddering with the intensity of it.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he murmurs against you, the words muffled by the slickness of your folds. “Could eat you all night.”

“Logan, I’m—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as he sucks hard on your clit, sending you careening over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your entire body convulsing with the force of it as you cry out his name, your nails digging into his scalp as you hold on.

Logan doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. He licks you through your release, his mouth working you over with a single-minded intensity that has you writhing against him, overstimulated and desperate for more.

“Fuck, Logan, please,” you gasp, not even sure what you’re begging for, just knowing you need something, anything to ease the ache that’s still throbbing deep inside you.

Logan pulls back just enough to look up at you, the bottom of his face slick with your arousal, eyes dark with a hunger that matches your own. He licks his lips, savoring the taste of you.

Logan’s hands slide up your thighs, his touch gentle now but still impossibly firm. He trails his fingers along your skin, tracing the sensitive lines where your skin starts to heal the damage he left behind.

“Still with me?” he asks, his voice is softer than before but there’s still an unmistakable rough edge coating his words.

You nod, your voice barely a whisper as you try to collect yourself. “Yeah...I’m here.”

“Good,” he growls softly, his hands squeezing the sore skin of your hips. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You’re on your back in less than a second, Logan flipping your positions so fast it has your head spinning. His mouth crashes against yours, hot and desperate, all sharp teeth and bruising pressure. 

It’s a kiss that feels like a fight, like a challenge, like a promise of something much darker and more consuming just beneath the surface. His stubble scrapes against your skin, adding to the raw, visceral feeling of it all. Your teeth clack together violently, you can taste the faint coppery tang of blood on his lips. 

You kiss him back just as fiercely, pouring all the pent-up frustration, all the desire, all the fear and anger and need into the contact between you. Your hands are everywhere, clawing at his hair, his shoulders, his back—needing to feel him, to mark him, to claim him as yours in a way that’s as undeniable as the blood pulsing through your veins.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him to fill the ache that’s building inside you. Logan grinds against you, his hard cock still trapped in the fabric of his sweats rubbing against your spit soaked cunt. You can’t help the desperate whimper that escapes your throat. “Please, Logan,” you gasp out against his lips, your voice trembling with need. “Fuck me, I need it, please–.” 

He growls low in his throat, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “You sure you’re ready for this, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin. 

You nod frantically, your hips bucking up against him darkens the fabric tent of his bottoms. He feels huge, heavy and hot where he pushes against your slick folds. “Yes, please, just—” Logan doesn’t let you finish. 

With a swift, almost feral move, he pushes the hem of his sweats down roughly, the sound of seams ripping rings through the room. You barely have time to gasp before he’s pushing his cock into you, stretching you wide, filling you so completely that all you can do is cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he immediately sets a relentless pace. 

You don’t have any time to adjust to the thick length of his cock carving its way inside of you, the sting of it has your eyes screwed shut. It’s only barely straddling the knife's edge of where pain and pleasure meld together, but it has you crying out his name all the same. 

Logan fucking sounds identical to Logan fighting, guttural groans and growls that are ripped from somewhere deep in his chest to pierce through the air between you. That ring in your ears and shake through your very soul like thunder. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grates, his voice thick with lust as he holds himself still for a moment, eyes glued to where you’re stretched around him. The puffy, abused lips of your cunt slick with his spit and the pre-come steadily leaking from his dark red tip. “Feels like heaven, sweetheart.”

You moan, high and loud in the back of your throat as your ankles lock around his lower back. Your heels dig into the skin just above his ass as your cunt trembles around his cock, your spongy walls working over him desperately, milking him. 

“You like that don’t you?” Logan taunts, starting to snap his hips with purpose. “You like getting fucked like this, princess?” He leans down enough to growl directly into your ear, “I can smell how much you want it, how bad you're aching for it." 

He slides his hands up your sides, rough palms gliding over your sweat-slick skin as he continues, "You drive me fucking crazy, sweetheart. I can barely think straight with you on top of me, with your scent all over me. You know what you're doing, don’t you? Getting me all riled up like this."

You can’t respond, can’t speak. You can barely form a coherent thought, your lips falling open in a stream of desperate moans and whines as you bury your face in his neck.

The pulse of his carotid artery under your lips is maddening, each beat of his heart like a drum driving you further into madness. You want to sink your teeth into the skin there, to pull flesh and muscle from bone so you can watch the blood run in rivers and streams down Logan’s body.

The taste of him fresh and heady on your tongue as you watch the layers build back up from nothing, nerves and veins weaving themselves back together grotesquely.

“Fuck,” Logan groans, the sound vibrating through your mouth as you press your lips against his throat, your teeth scraping against his skin with barely restrained hunger.

You nip at his throat, your teeth leaving small indentations that fade almost as quickly as they appear. Logan’s breathing is ragged, his chest heaving with every shallow breath as he leans into your touch, his body taut with anticipation.

"Atta girl, that's it," he growls, voice thick with desire as his hands grip your hips even tighter, nails digging into your skin as he ruts into you like a beast. His hips snapping against yours hard enough to sting, the loud slap of it bouncing off the walls to echo lewdly in your ears.

He’s fucking you like he wants to break you, reinforced hips heavy as he pounds you into the floor mercilessly. “Taking my cock so well, best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You can feel the way Logan’s cock jerks and pulses inside of you, the taut heaviness of his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You know he’s close, the brutal rhythm of his hips gets sloppier by the second.

You press your body up against his, your chest flush with his own as your hands wander over the hard planes of his back, tracing the lines of muscle beneath his skin. You dig your nails into his shoulder blades roughly, basking in the way his muscles roll and flex underneath your greedy palms.

You can feel the heat radiating from him, the pulsing glow of his blood under your fingertips as you explore every inch of him with a hunger that’s almost feral. 

And then, with a low, guttural sound that you barely recognize as your own, you sink your teeth into his neck.

Logan’s reaction is immediate and visceral. His entire body tenses above you, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you bite down, hard enough to draw blood. The taste of him floods your mouth, metallic and rich, and it sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

You can feel his blood on your tongue, warm and thick, the taste of it driving you wild. It’s everything you’ve been craving, everything you’ve been trying to resist. And now that you’ve finally given in, it’s like a dam has broken inside you.

Logan’s growl is pure animal, his hips bucking up hard as he thrusts into you one last time, burying his cock as deep in you as he can. The force of his orgasm rips through him, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he unloads inside of you. It’s so much, pulse after pulse of hot come that floods your insides. His hips don’t slow, still pumping and fucking like he’s trying to stuff you as full of himself as he can.

The feeling of it pushes you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing over you in a wave of white-hot pleasure that leaves you gasping and trembling above him. Your shaking cunt gushes over his cock as you swallow the blood pooling on your tongue.

Logan’s hips finally still, slotting flush with yours as he slumps onto the floor next to you, dragging you along with him so you can lay flat on his chest. The coarse hair scattered along his pecs scratches the skin of your cheek, you bury your face in the sweaty crook of his neck. You feel hazy, like you’re floating through the air, completely weightless. 

You think you could live here, plastered to the strong planes of Logan’s body, stuffed full of his cock and leaking his come in messy trails down your shaking thighs. 

But eventually, you have to pull back, your breath coming in short bursts as you lick the blood from your lips. Logan’s eyes are on you, shining under the chandelier light, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing. The wound on his neck is already healing, the skin knitting itself back together, but the blood still stains his skin red, a vivid reminder.

There’s a moment of silence, the air between you thick with tension and something else—something new and unspoken. You’re both panting, bodies still trembling with adrenaline.

Logan’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips, smearing the remnants of his blood across your skin. His eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

Finally, he reaches down slowly, like you’re a cornered animal that might turn and run any second. He takes your wrist in his hand, dragging it from the middle of his chest to the muscle directly over his heart. He presses your palm flat against him, blanketing your hand with his own.

“What do you feel,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a breath.

The question catches you off guard. It’s a challenge, but it’s also an invitation—a chance to confront whatever’s swirling inside you instead of running away from it. You hesitate, searching for the right words to encapsulate the storm of emotions you feel thrumming through your bones.

"You," you whisper back, your palm sliding over the sweaty plain of his bare chest. "All I feel is you."

Logan’s eyes soften, and a rare, genuine smile tugs at the corners of his lips. The intensity of the moment seems to dissolve, leaving a quiet understanding between you. He leans in, his breath warm against your cheek, and you can feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a tender caress against your ear. His thumb brushes along your pulse in a feather light touch. “That makes two of us.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[lovelytsunoda]

my fun // oscar piastri

(gif is by @/oscarcito!)

summary: it’s not every day that a first date lands you in the emergency room, or gives your date a concussion before the food has even left the kitchen

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: hospitals, blood, the awkwardness of a first date. low key inspired by season 1 episode 3 of the big bang theory when leonard and penny go on their not-date

yn yln must have been dreaming.

as she sat on one side of the wooden table inside the smokehouse, arms crossed in front of her as she looked over at her date, there was a part of her that kept telling her that there was no way it could be real.

she was quiet and smart, and could recite the entire periodic table in order from memory, and the boy sitting across from her was leagues prettier, with an athletes body and the ability to control a room with one singular lame joke.

he’d moved in across the hall from her earlier that year, and she and her friends had immediately dropped everything to watch shamelessley as the young man and his chiseled athlete friends and carried cardboard boxes up four flights of stairs.

oscar piastri was thinking the same thing. how a big famous athlete like him got someone as sweet and humble as yn to agree to date with him. sure she was awkward, and sometimes very shy, but at her core, she was sweet and funny and kind. not to mention the simple beauty of someone who never wore makeup (not to say oscar wouldn’t have adored it if she did, he just knew that she was pretty without it as well).

neither party really knew what to say, sitting in a nervous silence with the menus spread in the table, a glass bottle of water from the waiter sitting next to two half-full glasses.

oscar reached for the popcorn, a sweet and salty mix he quite enjoyed, trying not to tip the bag over as he contemplated what size brisket to order.

“hey, do you want to see something neat?” oscar blurted, picking out for decently sized pieces of the sweet popcorn. “do you know how to juggle?”

“juggle?” his date asked hesitantly, eyeing him over the popcorn. “you do?”

“went to a circus camp when i was seven.” oscar shrugged. “there’s not much to do in my part of australia to be fair.”

it took a few tries for oscar to get started, but soon enough, he was juggling with the popcorn, the kernels delicately passing through his pale, calloused hands.

and believe it or not, yn was impressed. she broke out in a wide smile, giggling from her seat as she watched the young man in front of her. he had a goofy smile on his face, and seemed well in his element. he caught her eye across the table, stuttering his movements as he shot her a wink, losing two kernels. the kernels rolled under the table, and the boy cursed.

“don’t worry about it, that was really impressive.” yn laughed. “nobody has ever juggled popcorn for me on a first date.”

oscar laughed. “glad to be of service.” he took a small bow before accidentally knocking the steak knife off the edge of the table, wincing at the sound of metal hitting floor.

he cursed, pushing his chair back. “I should probably pick that up, shouldn’t I?”

“can you reach it with your foot? it might be easier.”

“don’t worry, I’ve got it!” oscar insisted, slipping off the chair.

“are you sure?” yn asked hesitantly, bare knees pressed against the cool cast iron that was holding the slats of the table together.

oscar slipped under the table, on his hands and knees in the dark smokehouse as he fumbled around the the steak knife, crushing two kernels of popcorn underneath his khaki pants in the process.

yn, meanwhile, was hyper aware of the fact that her date, who she barely knew, was crawling around under the table, in public, near her slightly parted legs.

oh my god, she thought. do they think he’s going down on me?

there was a bang under the table, the slats shaking. she reached over the menus to grab the glass water bottle as it threatened to topple over.

“oscar?” she shouted “you alright?”

“yeah.” his voice came out strained, almost as if he was hurt. “hey, did you happen to spill any ketchup?”

she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, as a droplet of something warm fell against her toe through the lip of her sandals. “no. there isn’t any on the table.”

“fuck. I think I might need an ambulance.”

————

the emergency room is not where she wanted to spend her first date. it smelled like antiseptic soap, the lights too clinical and the plastic chairs too stiff. her neighbour looked pale, skin stained red from where he had bled.

as she understood it, oscar had hit his head on the cast iron hard enough to draw blood, but not enough that he was at risk of trauma or hemorrhaging.

or at least, that’s what the off-duty medic seated two tables over had said.

“how much blood do you think I’ve lost?” oscar wondered aloud, almost certain he was concussed. “if it’s less than a pint, I should be fine.”

yn laughed, rubbing him on the shoulder. “oscar, you’re fine. you still have most of your blood.”

“I’m so sorry our date ended like this. I ruined everything.” he exhaled, leaning to rest his head against the wall, still clutching g the bag of frozen peas given to him by kitchen staff against his cut.

she smiled to herself, reaching for his free hand. “what makes you think you’ve ruined anything?”

“the fact that there’s blood streaming down my face? or that were in the emergency room instead of sharing a hot chocolate fudge cake?”

they both laughed at the sheer absurdity of their situation, and yn resisted to urge to rest her head on his shoulder.

“you’re quite the man, oscar piastri. maybe you can make it up to me? I’m sure the smokehouse will be tripping over themselves to give us a free meal after tonight.”

oscar laughed lowly, a look of pain crossing his eyes. “you’d still want to go out with me after tonight?”

“of course I would, you adorable idiot.”

oscar looked like he was about to say something else when a tired-looking nurse in pink scrubs came rushing out of a hallway.

“mr and mrs piastri?”

yn flushed, her face heating up under the nurses gaze. “oh no, we’re not married. not even together, really.”

with all the energy he could, oscar winked at her before shakily getting to his feet in the sterile room. “wait for me, my love.”

yn laughed, watching him walk towards the nurse.

as far as first dates go, this one wasn’t bad at all, was it?

[rafecameronssl4t]

I LOVED the “Who invited you?” one, so i was thinking… maybe a Thornton!reader x season 3!rafe, where Rafe and reader are secretly dating and reader tells about it to sofia, not knowing she had a crush on Rafe, so she tells everything to Topper

Stay in your lane || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: so sorry this took me forever to reply to but hope you like it!!! added my own little twist in the end reminder that requests are open!!!!

Warnings: mentions of smoking, suggestive content, if theres anything else, lmk!

Word count: 1,884

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

As you step into the country club, the cool air conditioning providing instant relief from the summer heat, you're greeted by a familiar face. "Hey," Sofia's voice carries a warm, welcoming tone as she catches your attention. Her honey-coloured hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she looks every bit the part in her crisp, white polo shirt.

"Sofia, right?" you say with a smile, sliding your sunglasses up onto your head. She nods with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling. "That's me! And you're Y/n, Topper's sister," she says confidently, her gaze lingering on you for a moment as if to commit your face to memory.

"Yeah, that's right," you reply, your tone light and friendly as you confirm her guess. "Can I get you a table?" she offers, her hand subtly gesturing towards the dining area where groups of people are already seated, enjoying their meals and conversations.

You shake your head gently, your smile widening. "Oh no, I'm here with someone," you explain, a hint of warmth in your voice. Sofia's expression shifts as her lips form a small 'o' of understanding. "Well, enjoy!" she responds, her smile returning, though there's a hint of something else in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or intrigue.

You reciprocate her smile, offering a small wave before you turn to walk away. As you move towards the back of the club, you can feel Sofia's gaze following you, her attention unwavering until you disappear from sight.

~

Sofia stepped into the secluded section of the country club, balancing a tray of drinks with practiced ease. The chatter of the main dining area faded behind her as she ventured deeper into the quieter, more exclusive part of the club. As she approached the table, she quickly recognised you sitting there, and a curl of smoke caught her eye, obscuring the person seated across from you.

"Iced tea and a Westbrook?" Sofia announced as she drew closer, her voice steady. But as she placed the drinks on the table, her eyes widened in surprise as she finally saw who you were with—Rafe Cameron, his presence unmistakable.

“Thanks, Sof,” you responded warmly, your smile reaching your eyes as you accepted the glass of iced tea from the tray. Sofia’s attention drifted towards Rafe, who sat across from you with an air of nonchalance. He casually exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke, his intense blue eyes never leaving you as he flicked the ashes into the nearby ashtray.

His gaze was unwavering, almost possessive, as he watched you, barely sparing Sofia a glance. It was clear that his focus was entirely on you, as if the rest of the world, including Sofia, simply didn’t exist in that moment. The casual way he leaned back in his chair, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, contrasted sharply with the tension in Sofia’s chest.

"Y-you're welcome," Sofia stammered, caught off guard by the sight of the two of you together. She quickly realised that her surprise was showing, and she forced a polite smile before retreating, her mind racing as she walked away, the image of you and Rafe together lingering in her thoughts.

~

As Sofia made her way outside, she hauled the heavy bags of rubbish towards the bins at the back of the country club. Her thoughts were preoccupied, replaying the scene she had witnessed earlier of you with Rafe. The image of the two of you together lingered in her mind, stirring a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite pin down.

Lost in these thoughts, something in the parking lot suddenly caught her attention—Rafe Cameron’s truck parked in the parking lot. Her steps faltered as she saw you step down from the passenger side, a playful smile on your lips as you tugged your dress back into place.

Sofia’s heart raced, and without thinking, she ducked behind a nearby tree, hoping to remain unnoticed. Peeking out from her hiding spot, she watched as Rafe emerged from the car, his confident smirk evident even from a distance.

He moved towards you with a casual grace, his hand trailing down your back before giving your ass a light, possessive squeeze. The gesture was intimate, familiar, as if this wasn't the first time he'd done it. Then, Rafe leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that seemed to linger just a little too long.

Sofia could feel her chest tighten as she observed the scene, her mind reeling from the implications. She watched as he then walked you to your Porsche, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you with ease.

He opened the driver's door for you, the gesture almost gentlemanly, before leaning in for one last kiss. The way you smiled at him before driving off sent a pang of something unidentifiable through Sofia’s chest—jealousy? Surprise? Disbelief? Maybe all three.

As your car disappeared from view, Sofia’s eyes remained glued to Rafe. Just as she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he suddenly turned his head in her direction, as if sensing her presence. Panic surged through her as she let out a quiet gasp, instinctively slapping a hand over her mouth and pressing herself harder against the rough bark of the tree.

She remained frozen, barely daring to breathe, until she heard the roar of Rafe’s engine as he sped off. Only then did she dare to move, her heart pounding in her chest. Of course, you and Rafe were together. The thought settled heavily in her mind, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. It was almost expected, yet seeing it with her own eyes was something else entirely.

~

"Hey, Sof," you greet her with a warm smile as you walk up to the bar and take a seat. Sofia returns the smile, but there's a slight tension in her expression, a tightness that you don't seem to notice. "Hey, what can I get you?" she asks, her voice pleasant but lacking its usual warmth.

"An iced tea will be fine, thanks," you reply, settling into your seat. Sofia nods and begins preparing your drink. As she works, your phone buzzes, drawing your attention. Sofia can't help but eavesdrop as you answer it. "Hey," you say into the phone, your lips curving into a smile as you listen to the person on the other end.

"Yeah, 1 p.m. is fine." Sofia continues making your iced tea, her curiosity piqued, wondering who you're talking to. When the call ends, you smile at Sofia, who quickly averts her eyes, focusing on placing a straw into your glass before pushing it across the bar towards you.

"Thank you," you say, taking a sip of the iced tea. You then pick up your phone again, your fingers tapping away as another smile forms on your lips, seemingly in response to a message. Sofia, now cleaning some glasses nearby, can't hold back her curiosity any longer.

"So… you and Rafe, huh?" she asks, her tone laced with subtle intrigue as she glances over at you. You look up from your phone, a light giggle escaping your lips. "Yeah?" you respond, a bit amused by her question. Sofia purses her lips, nodding as she tries to process this new information, a flutter of jealousy stirring in her chest.

"I didn't know you guys were dating," she continues, her voice careful, as if trying to gauge your reaction. You hum softly, playing with the straw in your glass. "Between you and me, we were friends with benefits for a while before he asked me out properly," you admit with a small, almost secretive smile.

Sofia nods, doing her best to hide her surprise, but there's a flicker of something in her eyes—disbelief, maybe even a touch of envy that she quickly tries to suppress. Her mind races, wondering how she missed the signs, and why the thought of you with Rafe unsettles her so much.

"Does Topper know?" she asks, her tone slightly more pointed as she looks at you. Your eyes snap to hers, and for a moment, the air between you feels charged with something unspoken, a tension that Sofia struggles to ignore.

"No, he doesn't know yet. We'll tell him soon enough, though," you reply, your voice steady. "Right now, he just thinks we're really good friends." Sofia hums in response, trying to mask the pang of jealousy as she watches you return to your phone, clearly engrossed in your conversation with Rafe.

You finish your drink and stand up, offering Sofia a warm smile. "Thanks for the drink, it was so good," you say sincerely before turning and walking off, leaving Sofia standing behind the bar, her thoughts racing as she watches you disappear from view.

~

When Sofia caught sight of Topper and Rafe walking into the country club, her heart began to race, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety flooding her system. The two of them made an imposing pair, effortlessly commanding attention as they approached the bar.

Sofia's gaze followed their every step, her pulse quickening when Rafe’s eyes met hers. He held her gaze for a brief moment before leaning in to whisper something to Topper. Without a word, Rafe then turned and walked outside, leaving Topper alone at the bar.

"Just my usual, thanks. Make it two," Topper said, leaning casually against the polished wood. His tone was indifferent, his eyes lazily scanning the room as if the bar and its staff were just another part of the scenery. Sofia nodded, accustomed to his detached manner, and began preparing the drinks.

As she worked, she stole a glance at Topper, feeling a sudden surge of boldness. Clearing her throat, she decided to speak up. "Y/N's not joining the two of you tonight?" she asked, her voice steady despite the nerves bubbling underneath.

Topper’s attention snapped back to her, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. A dry chuckle escaped his lips, the sound laced with a hint of amusement. "And what makes you think my little sister should be here with us?" he asked, his tone edged with curiosity as he watched her skillfully mix the drinks.

Sofia felt her confidence grow, fueled by the moment and the subtle power shift she sensed. She met his gaze head-on, refusing to be intimidated. "I'm not sure, I just thought she'd join you guys since she and Rafe are a couple now," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant as she shrugged her shoulders.

For a brief second, Topper went silent, and Sofia braced herself for his reaction. She expected surprise, maybe even a flash of anger or disbelief. But instead, Topper's response was cold and indifferent, his expression unreadable. "Don't see why that concerns you, Sofia," he said, his eyes drifting towards the view outside, his interest in the conversation fading as quickly as it had sparked.

Sofia's eyes widened, not prepared for his dismissive tone. "Oh, no—I was just wondering—" she stammered, her initial confidence rapidly dissolving under his gaze. Topper’s stare sharpened, cutting her off before she could finish. "I think you forget yourself sometimes," he said, his voice chillingly calm.

"Just because you work here in Figure 8, it doesn't give you the right to go sticking your nose in our business, yeah? So stay in your lane," He grabbed the glasses she had just finished preparing, his hand steady, his demeanor cold.

With that, he walked off without another glance, leaving Sofia standing there, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She hadn’t expected Topper to speak to her like that—so harshly, so dismissively. The words stung, lingering in the air long after he had disappeared, and Sofia was left alone.

[beiasluv]

yes, and? | f1 d!lfs

a/n: Ariana popped tf off with that house music, but ngl I have mixed feelings abt her allegations. don’t be a homewrecker bitches 😘

aussiegrit

liked by oscarpiastri, fernandoalo_official and 96,279 others

aussiegrit Ride a Porsche, save a horse…😆 yourinsta

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yourinsta

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yourinsta ride or die (literally) 😙

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username stay mad, go touch some grass

landonorris we literally drive fast car for life 💀

yourinsta I KNOW 😭😭

yourinsta when are you visiting 😔

landonorris soonn

username ERM Where.

sebastianvettel glad you had fun schatz

yourinsta anytimee 🫶

username sebastian went skiing and no fucking picture. I’m devastated.

username what exactly are you riding 🤭

username she slayed for that

username DONT TAKE TREACHEROUS ROADS

username DONT MAKE UNNECESSARILY JOURNIES

jensonbutton

liked by yourinsta, aussiegrit, and 122,017 others

jensonbutton off seasonal things 🤣.

view all 28,167 comments

yourinsta slow your horses on drinking mr button

jensonbutton will do love 😉

yourinsta I’ll keep an eye on that.

username taking care of her old man You go girlll

username was this the Santa hat he got from Fernando 😭😭

username it’s also likely that one of them gifted the whiskey as well

username nobody can stop yn and her dilfs on this summer break

username HELL YEAH

username not complaining for the lack of content from the current grid (except Ms gurl herself)

yourinsta

liked by oscarpiastri, mickschumacher and 186,297 others

yourinsta I have no more storage 😔

view all 21,627 comments

sebastianvettel sorry schatz ❤️

yourinsta I maybee forgive you

username grow tf upp

username she got them down bad and you mad??

landonorris why is your phone crustyy

yourinsta I SWEAR IT’S THEMM

yourinsta my selfies ate 🤭

username PERIODDD

username get yourself sweaty old dilfss

jensonbutton deleting is not an option love

aussiegrit buying a new one is

username OH???

username be my sugar daddy please 😩🙏

username Oscar and mick basically cringing at their father figure

username Respect the original rizz gurll

username Sebastian was and still is the original rizz, ask yn 😘

username kimi what are you doing hereeee

f1gossips

liked by username, username and 39,728 others

f1gossips Ricciardo, Vettel, Button, Alonso, and Ln spotted in a holiday in Ibiza, Spain. More attendants to be confirmed.

- admin

view all 2,610 comments

username honestly it’s kinda weird that she keeps on hanging out with the older grid while she is literally a Mercedes driver?

username and what’s wrong with hanging out with people outside the current grid

username idk seems kinda weird to me, older men..

username if she’s getting that bag I respect her cause why tf not?

username homewrecker much?

username desperate much?

username homewrekcerr so coquette 🎀

username you guys don’t get it (I GET HERR)

username Spain… so is Carlos joining??

username and Lando’s comment??

username I swear they need to show tf up

yourinsta

liked by aussiegrit, sebastianvettel and 186,727 others

yourinsta told you my selfies ate 😘

view all 18,017 comments

aussiegrit beautiful sunshine ❤️

yourinsta wish you were heree

aussiegrit I’ll definitely see you soon honey

username never let mark know what a dm is so I can keep reading their texts

username if you look closely into the background you can see me drowning in my tears

username omg same!! twinss

carlossainz55 did you pierced your tongue?

yourinsta no?? why would I do that

username why are they so siblings 😭

sebastianvettel

liked by yourinsta, lance_stroll and 385,167 others

sebastianvettel trip dump or whatever the kids say?

view all 27,526 comments

yourinsta correcto

liked by sebastianvettel

username get away from my mann 😘😘

username ngl you got me in the first half

username can the summer break be longer 😭😩

username I miss the dilf trip already. I have nothing to look forward to anymore

username how to…be…a dog ✍️

f1gossips

liked by username, username and 27,156 others

f1gossips Mark Webber and David Coulhart spotted at the Porsche convention, Melbourne, Australia. Lando Norris confirmed in joining the Ibiza trip last week as seen with a fan at a restaurant

view all 962 comments

username i know exactly what you are doing by putting mark in this

username so was it Mark??? 🤭🤭

username Mark please comeback 😭

username come back the kids miss you 😩

username so was it true that she fucked one of them?

username WHAT? WHO WHERE WHEN

username it was rumor but idk guessed it would’ve spiraled at the trip

username had a feeling that it was Sebastian 🤷‍♀️

username SAMEE TWINSS

yourinsta

liked by jensonbutton, aussiegrit and 426,268 others

yourinsta yes, and?

view all 197,727 comments

username OMF MISS QUEENNN

username QUEEN SHIT BITCH

username ITS CONFIRMEDD

username so can I call her ariana now? 💀💀

yall know the drill, interact if you liked it😘😘 let me know who’s your favorite f1 dilf

today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!

[nicnacsnonsense]

Anyway the real moral of the story is if you are someone who is prone to not having enough spoons to make food, get yourself a little personal rice cooker. Then you can throw in your rice, some veggies*, and literally just crack an egg straight into the rice cooker, you don’t even need to scramble it first if that’s too much right now. Then turn the rice cooker on (my little one is is literally so simple, it’s like a toaster, there’s a lever I push down to start cooking and it pops up when the food is done), and when it’s done cooking you can add just a little salt and maybe some butter or whatever kind of sauce you like, and there you go, a fairly well rounded meal and all you had to do was chuck some stuff in a rice cooker.

I also recommend getting some bouillon (I like the little jars with the paste, since it’s more flexible portion-wise) and some seasoning mixes. Because those can also just be thrown in the rice cooker with everything else and can create very different flavor profiles with minimal effort so that the exact same rice, veggies, and egg dish feels different.

*For the veggies recommend getting bags of frozen veggies either chopped or stuff like peas which are already small. Chopped because then you can just chuck them straight in without further need for prep and frozen because you don’t need to worry about them going bad. Especially for me, where I’m pretty much always just cooking for one, I can open a bag, just take out as much as I need for my current meal, then stick the rest of the bag back into the freezer for later.