#He likes to pretend I was there though. I make him feel safe.

[littlelamy]

Rafe taking care of Reader who goes through a depressive episode. She’s feeling like she is a burden and feels like everyone would be happier with her gone. Maybe things are pretty new between them, only gone on a few dates so she obviously (like most) isn’t going to tell him anything and doesn’t think she matters to a guy she has gone on a few dates with anyway, so she just stops responding to his texts

a/n: thank you for requesting!⭐️ i hope i wrote it appropriately to what you requested 🙂💗part 2 is up!

the first time rafe noticed something was off, it was subtle—just a missed text here and there. maybe a delayed reply. nothing unusual at first. he probably told himself you were busy. everyone has those days where life gets hectic.

but when hours stretched into days and your replies went from short to nonexistent, he started to feel that quiet pull of worry.

“hey, you okay?” he texted the day before, after his third unanswered message.

you saw it pop up on your screen. his name glowed against the darkness of your room, and for a moment, your heart ached with the idea of answering. but then the thought crept in.

he’s just being polite. he barely knows you. he’s probably relieved you stopped answering anyway.

so you let the screen go dark.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. it wasn’t like you two were serious. you’d only gone on a handful of dates, and even though every moment with rafe had been sweet and effortless, there was no way someone like him could actually care.

you’d been wrong about people before.

the weight in your chest had only grown heavier over the past few weeks. even getting out of bed felt impossible some days, let alone pretending to be okay for someone like rafe cameron. so, you didn’t bother. you shut your phone off, buried it under a pillow, and let the world fade into static.

the knock at your door startled you.

at first, you thought it might’ve been a neighbor or a delivery driver, someone just passing through. but then it came again, louder this time, more deliberate.

“y/n?”

you froze, your breath catching as his voice carried through the door.

“it’s rafe.”

you stared at the door like it might open on its own. the last thing you wanted was to face him, especially like this. but hearing his voice made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“i, uh…” he hesitated, the sound of him shifting his weight audible through the thin walls. “i just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

you stayed silent, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. but deep down, you knew rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to just walk away.

“you don’t have to let me in,” he added, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “just… let me know you’re alright.”

you clenched your fists, trying to will the lump in your throat away. how were you supposed to explain that you weren’t alright? that you hadn’t been alright in weeks?

the knock came again, gentler this time.

“i’m not leaving until i know you’re okay,” he said firmly, though there was no anger in his voice. only concern.

you sat frozen for what felt like forever, listening to the silence on the other side of the door. maybe he’d given up. maybe he was walking away right now, realizing this wasn’t worth his time.

but then your phone buzzed from where it lay buried under the pillow.

you hesitated before reaching for it, your hands trembling as you unlocked the screen.

rafe <3: hey, i’m outside your place. not trying to bother you, i just wanted to check in. if you need space, i get it. just let me know you’re alright, okay?

your chest ached as you read the words. there was nothing demanding about them, nothing that made you feel guilty or trapped. he wasn’t asking for anything except to know you were safe.

and that made it worse somehow.

because you weren’t.

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[puckinghischier]

leaving soft nico thoughts about taking care of you drunk. keeping his arm around your waist as he brings you through the hallway and down to your room, setting you on the edge of the bed as he helps you take off your shoes and change into one of his shirts.

i feel like he'd also definitely be the type to hold your hair if you happen to be a sick drunk, keeping water and advil on the bedside table for whenever you're able to keep anything down. he'd just be such a sweetheart.

it was just pointed out to me that the ask does indeed say nico y’all….but my dumbass was thinking about quinn, as you can tell, so just read it and enjoy anyways and pretend it’s about nico if you want to 😭

no cause i feel like quinn is such a caretaker at his core. so yeah, he’s def be the boyfriend to stop drinking if he noticed you were having a good time and getting drunker by the hour. he wouldn’t complain, though, because as long as you were having fun and safe, that’s all he cared about.

he’d make sure you got into the uber safely and lean your slumping body against his, pressing kisses to your damp forehead and pushing hair out of your face. you’d be mumbling nonsense, mostly about how much you love him and how hot he is, and he’d return the statements with chuckles and kisses to your temple.

he’d basically carry you into the apartment, leading you to the large bed, helping you undress while you tried to sneakily take his clothes off, too.

“you sneaky girl, keep those hands to yourself,” he’d laugh, swatting your hands away from his shirt hem. you’d drunkenly giggle, mumbling about how yummy he is and how you wanted his shirt off.

once he finally got you settled and changed, he went to the kitchen to grab a water bottle and pain meds to give you, but when he entered the room again he was met with your soft snores and hair fanned out across not only your pillow, but his as well. sitting the bottle and pills on the night stand beside of you, he hovers over you to place a kiss to your cheek, the tip of your nose, and your forehead.

and a few hours later, when he’s awoken by the quick thuds of your feet rushing to the en-suite bathroom? he’s up and at your side, holding your hair back and rubbing your back in soothing circles as all the shots you took with brock earlier in the night reappear. you’d apologize profusely in-between getting sick, but quinn wouldn’t hear a word of it.

“shhh, s’okay. you’re fine. still think you’re the prettiest girl in the world. even when you’re falling asleep on the toilet seat,” he’d whisper to you, watching one corner of your lip lift in a half smile, eyes still closed as your cheek rests on the cool seat.

the next morning he wouldn’t mention a thing, just bringing you his proven hangover cure smoothie— a recipe from his old college roommate—then go out to find the greasiest breakfast he could find, knowing it’s the only thing that truly makes you feel better after a night out.

[simplepotatofarmer]

spousal privilege

or

a very short thing i wrote for the christmas event hosted by @alterdnbweek based on the idea of c!techno and c!dream pretending they're married in prison!

“What if Qu—what if he does come back?” asked Dream.

It was probably the dozenth time he had asked some variation of that question, always with a tone that was forcefully light and always while looking at Techno with an expression of barely restrained fear. Techno hummed to himself as he carefully turned the potatoes over. They were lined up as close to the lava as possible without catching fire to cook as best as he could. Anything was better than the raw potatoes that Dream insisted were fine despite the fact they clearly were a struggle for him to eat. Thinking about it made Techno rub his own jaw.

“I mean, it’s been a long time and he hasn’t shown up yet, man. I think we’re safe.”

At the word ‘safe’, Dream shivered and Techno frowned. The bruises had faded by now and most of the injuries had healed but it was clear just by looking at him why Dream didn’t believe it.

“Yeah, but… If he does come back, it’s—He’s got leverage, right? You’re here. He could, like. I don’t know. He could torture you so I talk.”

That thought hadn’t crossed Techno’s mind before and now that Dream had said it out loud, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a very obvious reason to have lured him into the same cell. He was kicking himself for not realizing that sooner but it had been so hard to wrap his head around the fact that even someone like Quackity could stoop to torture. He cleared his throat.

“Well, the simple solution to that, Dream, is you don’t talk,” he said as gently as possible.

Without a moment of hesitation, Dream rolled his eyes and said, “I would, though.”

Techno shook his head with a laugh, the smile on his face fond.

“Yeah, that’s fair. That’s fair. I’d probably talk, too.” He reached out and touched one of the potatoes, testing to see if it had softened enough yet. “Alright, look. I’ve got an idea.”

One of Dream’s eyebrows lifted. The skepticism was clear.

“What?”

“We get married,” said Techno.

“WHAT?”

Dream stared at him and it took Techno a lot of effort not to start laughing.

“No, no, I’m serious, Dream.” He really needed to keep a straight face because he wasn’t lying and Dream’s face was only getting more and more exasperated. “Listen, it’s a law, yeah? Spousal privilege. If you’re married, you legally can’t be forced to reveal anything about your spouse.”

“That’s—” Dream stopped and frowned. His brow was furrowed in thought, eyes squinting. “Yeah, okay, but he’s—he’s not going to listen to the law, Techno. He tortured me! That’s illegal!”

“Is it?”

That made Dream pause. He tilted his head up, the gears turning, and Techno turned back to the potatoes. They weren’t perfect but they were a whole heck of a lot better than they had been and his stomach was growling. If he was hungry, Dream had to be starving. He carefully pushed one in front of Dream.

“I-I don’t know,” Dream finally said and poked the potato with one finger. “I still don’t get how being married will help.”

Techno ignored the heat from the potato and carefully broke it in half. It was softer though not fully cooked. He didn’t think he could get them fully cooked without burning them, not without any sort of cooking utensil.

“Because then we’ll just tell him that legally he can’t make us say anything. He’d be breakin’ the law and even if he doesn’t care about that, I’m a law abidin’ citizen so clearly I can’t talk,” he said.

A laugh escaped Dream and he grinned.

“Since when?”

“Since always, Dream. I can’t believe you’d imply otherwise.” He scooted across the obsidian floor until he was next to Dream then grabbed his potato and broke it in half as well. He held out one piece to Dream. “I’m tellin’ you, it’s a fool proof plan.”

Looking from Techno to the potato and back, Dream sighed. He took the potato and took a small bite, chewing slowly.

“So, what? We just lie and say we’re married?”

Techno sighed, relieved. It had been a challenge to get Dream to eat. He took a bite of his own potato and leaned against Dream’s shoulder. The other man pushed into him, mouth curling up into a grin. His hair was long enough now that it brushed against Techno’s arm.

“Exactly, man. Exactly.”

Dream rolled his eyes again but he was smiling and he took another bite of his potato as his free hand tapped absent-mindedly on Techno’s leg.

“Well. I still think it’s stupid,” he said around a mouthful of potato. “But it’d really piss Sam and him off.”

For a moment, Techno watched Dream’s fingers tapping gently against his thigh. There was a strange fluttering in his chest.

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re only marryin’ me as an act of rebellion.”

Glancing at Techno from the corner of his eye, Dream shrugged. He took one last bite of the potato before setting it down and it wasn’t until he had swallowed that he spoke.

“Don’t—Don’t be stupid. I’m technically not even marrying you.”

Dream started to pull his hand away, a faint blush on his face as if he had just now noticed what he was doing, and Techno stopped him, wrapping his hand up in his own. Briefly, Dream tensed and then wiggled his remaining fingers between Techno’s. Techno smiled.

“Oh, of course, of course. Still, we oughta make it look convincin’,” he said, squeezing Dream’s hand. “Y’know, just in case.”

Laughing quietly, Dream relaxed against Techno’s side.

“Right. Just in case.”

[chericos]

SHUT UP AND DRIVE CHAPTER TWO: ignition

masterlist. || 0.8k

You’re wedged in the back seat, arms crossed, staring out the window as the landscape blurs past. The tension in the air is suffocating, everyone pretending they can’t feel it. Panda’s in the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone, while Nobara drives, humming to some pop song playing faintly on the radio. Maki sits silently beside you, an amused glint in her eye, as she texts back and forth with god knows who.

“This is gonna be a disaster,” Nobara finally says, breaking the silence. She glances at you through the rearview mirror, her smirk sharp. “I’m calling it now.”

You roll your eyes but don’t answer. There’s no need. She’s right, after all.

Panda chuckles, turning slightly in his seat to look at you. “How long do you think you can go without throwing hands? Or, you know, trying to shove someone off the track?”

“I’m not a child,” you mutter, your voice clipped. “I can handle one practice.”

“Sure you can,” Maki teases, her grin widening. “But can Megumi?”

The mention of his name sends a pang of annoyance through you, but you keep your face neutral. No need to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

————————

When you arrive at the circuit, you find that they’re already there, gathered near their cars like a flock of vultures. Megumi stands off to the side next to Yuji, arms crossed, and his signature scowl firmly in place. He doesn’t look at you as you step out of the car, but you can feel the weight of his presence, the unresolved tension thick enough to cute with one of Maki’s knives.

Before practice begins, both teams gather in a makeshift meeting area under a canopy near the pit lane. Both managers are present, and you try to hide a snicker seeing the disdain on Utahime’s face as she has to make small talk with Gojo.

“Alright, listen up,” Utahime starts, her tone sharp and commanding. “This is a joint practice, not a competition. Let’s keep it clean out there, alright? No unnecessary drama.” she gives you a pointed glance. You roll your eyes in response before fixing your gaze on the team opposite of you. You catch Megumi’s gaze flicking toward you at the word drama. It’s subtle, but the message is clear and it takes everything in you not to bite back.

Gojo nods, clapping his hands together. “Exactly. Play nice, kids. We don’t need another incident like last time.”

“That was not my fault,” you say sharply, earning a few snickers from your teammates.

“Sure,” Panda says under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Utahime sighs, forehead scrunching up as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, moving on. Focus on teamwork and improving your time. Got it? No funny business.”

There’s a collective murmur of agreement, but you can already see Toge and Panda exchanging a glance, their mischievous grins impossible to miss. Whatever they’re planning, it’s definitely going to involve “funny business.”

“Toge, Panda,” Utahime snaps, her eyes narrowing. “I can see you. Don’t even think about it.”

“Us?” Panda feigns innocence, placing a paw over his chest. “Come on, Utahime, when have we ever caused trouble?”

Toge nods sagely, though the glint in his eye gives him away.

Utahime’s glare sharpens. “Exactly. All the time.” She sighs, her gaze softening despite herself. “Just… try to make it through this practice without making my headache worse, alright?”

With that, the meeting breaks up, and everyone heads to their cars. Engines begin roaring to life, filling the air with the sharp growl of horsepower. But as you walk past Megumi, his voice cuts through the noise of the ignition of the car.

“You ready to actually race this time?” he says, his tone low and biting.

You stop, turning slowly to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, leaning lazily against the hood of his car. “Just wondering if you’re planning to show up today or if you’re gonna spend the whole practice playing it safe like last time.”

The jab stings more than you’d care to admit, but you smirk, refusing to let him see it. “Oh, I’ll be on the track. Question is, can you keep up?”

His eyes narrow. “You talk a big game,” he says, voice low enough that only you can hear. He steps closer, closing the distance you’d deliberately put between you. “Let’s see if you can back it up.” “Always do,” you reply, the smirk never leaving your face. “But thanks for your concern.”

Before he can fire back, Utahime’s voice rings out, sharp and exasperated. “Y/N! Megumi! Save it for the track!”

But you’re not done yet. With one last glance at him, you remark, “Maybe you should try and keep that same concern about yourself, Fushiguro. At least try to make the time this round.”

You catch the way his jaw tightens, the flicker of irritation in his eyes before he brushes past you toward his car without a word. Your smirk fades as your heart pounds in your chest, the tension settling heavy in the pit of your stomach.

This is going to be a long practice.

break room!

lets just say nobara and panda walked away from this practice 25$ richer

the girls went to chilis and gossiped over their triple dippers (I'm craving)

yuji and toge are really holding space for megumi through these hard times

yk the people who sing during musical movies? that's them

they got the group kicked out and banned from that AMC location

y/n definitely sobbed in the theater

panda keeps quoting "hey! that's my line" and attempts to belt but it just ends up with him getting escorted off the premises.

taglist!

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if your tag isn't working please fix your settings or you will be removed!

always looking for more twt users! can you spot yourself?

[mental69er]

Okay so what if r is Victoria Neuman‘s assistant and there’s a charity that they have to attend. While Victoria is networking, r is getting hit on by some rich old guy and Victoria kinda gets jealous and interrupts them, pretending like she needed r for something important. And idk maybe the hookup in the bathroom or in vicky‘s limousine?

content: jealous victoria, reader is victoria's assistant but they're dating, car sex, short piece, nsfw

Victoria's perfectly placed smile never wavered once even as her grip around your waist felt impossibly tight. She bid goodbye to the people at the party on her way out and you attempted to do the same, before you were quickly whisked away and into her limo.

No sooner had the door shut, tinted windows preventing anyone from looking in, then Victoria was barking out to her driver to go, and slamming a hand to the partion to roll it up.

You gulped, sensing you were in trouble. None of it your fault.

Her mask dropped, dark eyes swirling with anger. "Do you have any idea how pissed off I am right now."

"What did I do?" you asked, even as the spot between your thighs began to grow damp. There was something about a pissed off Victoria that did things to you even though you knew you should be taking her seriously.

"He was almost all over you! If I hadn't stepped in, his hand would have been up your underwear in front of everyone to see!"

Now, she was being ridicolous. He had been standing too close to you, yes, and making inappropriate passes, yes, but he hadn't so much as touched you.

You had been just about to excuse yourself, taking a longer time then usual to rebuff his advances because you couldn't believe he was doing this and because you knew Victoria needed his support for her campaign, when she had swarmed in and made up a fake excuse to drag you here.

You hoped you hadn't prevented her from networking how she needed to. This was supposed to be an important party for her.

"He was not, all over me. I was handling it."

"You should have walked away."

"And ruin what you were planning with him-"

"The campaign can take a small hit. I don't need his support," she hissed out, climbing onto your lap in the darkly lit interior. You could smell the hint of alcohol on her breath but you knew that had nothing to do with her reaction. "I would rather you be safe from his sleazy hands." Her hands wrapped around the back of your neck, pressing her forehead into yours.

"Were you jealous?" you snorted out, surprised by this. "When would I ever go for someone like him when I have someone like you." Your voice softened on this, filled with affection for her.

She doesn't respond for a few seconds before releasing a pent up breath. "Maybe a little bit. He has a lot of money, and power, and-"

You laughed and it startled her into stopping. "Vic, seriously? Him? He's so old his eyebags have eyebags. I don't care if he has more power and money than you. I'm not dating you for that. I'm dating you for you. Because I love your smile, love your personality. And, because I love how you make me feel."

"I simply worry." She sighed, tenderly brushing her nose against yours. "I feel like I don't deserve you."

Victoria often said this, and it worried you to see her so down on herself.

"Don't," you said and leaned in a bit to press your lips to hers. She sighed into the kiss, content. Victoria always came off so confident to you. You never knew she could even be worried about something like this.

As the car drove down the street towards her house, the two of you continued kissing, the movements becoming harder, more passionate as arousal began to fan in your stomach. Mouths opened, breathing became heavier, and Victoria hummed into your touch.

You wanted to reassure her in other ways that she had nothing to worry about.

She wordlessly sensed this, trailing one hand down in between your bodies and undoing your pants button. With a small pop it was free and she was able to wriggle her fingers past your underwear into your sodden cunt.

You groaned at her touch, looking up at her through fluttering eyelashes. "See, I'm only this wet for you."

Her breath hitched at your words and her fingers curled inside of you, before she began thrusting into you. The angle was tight but that didn't discourage her, as she continued to kiss you and pump into you. Your hips twitched and tried to buck up but her sitting on your lap didn't let you.

Tiny pants and groans left your mouth. She kissed around your jaw, down your neck, nipping and biting, leaving her lipstick smeared everywhere. Your hands grabbed onto her back, needing an anchor as pleasure began to build inside of you.

"Victoria," you groaned out her name and she let her thumb roll over your clit in just the way you liked.

"I've got you," she reassured you, pressing her mouth to your ear and tracing the shell of it with her tongue. You shuddered at the warm and wet sensation, sticky heat flooding her palm.

"Fuck," you cried out, surely loud enough to be heard through the partition, and came all over her palm. Your body went rigid, Victoria pressing kisses to your face to bring you back down.

Catching your breath you looked up at her, smiling softly, and she smiled back at you.

"I only come undone for you like this," you told her, hands lowering to land on her hips, urging her to switch positions with you. She slipped out of you and sat down on the seat, before you slipped down to the floor in front of her, arching your brow as you placed your hands on her knees.

"And I only kneel for you," you added on, before you helped her tug off her pants.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

wait omg what abt a love quinn x reader where reader walks in on her murdering someone??

I love this idea! I hope I did it justice <3

Love Knows Best (Love Quinn x fem reader)

Warnings: murder, panic attack, manipulation/gaslighting, Love is kind of toxic here tbh (but we love her anyway)

You weren't supposed to be there.

Love had counted on you not returning home for another hour or so, which would've given her the perfect amount of time to kill Milo and dispose of his body before you arrive. Unfortunately for her, that's not what happened.

You'd mentioned the day before how you were feeling uncomfortable with him hanging around still when he should've left for Bali already, and she happened to agree with you. So what did she decide to do about it? Make him disappear, of course.

Her plan was to get rid of him and then act sad and heartbroken about him "leaving" without telling her goodbye. Not only would the excuse make perfect sense, but with him out of the picture she could focus more on her relationship with you. Not to mention you'd certainly be a good shoulder for her to cry on as she pretended to be upset over his sudden departure.

That was the plan, anyway. But it didn't work, because she left out an important variable to her little "what if" scenario- you. She hadn't expected you to get home so early.

She couldn't hear the door unlock or your footsteps coming down the hall over the sound of her own heart beating in her chest, the knife in her hand quickly darting out to slice open his throat as he stood there in front of her.

"Love?"

Your voice made her freeze, and she slowly turned to face you with an almost frantic look. "Baby..." she murmured out the pet name, her gaze full of affection, though you were too focused on the dead body to notice.

"Wh- What did you do to him?" Your voice sounded incredibly panicked, and she couldn't really say she blamed you. "W- Why did you kill him?"

"It was self defense," she blurted out as the first thing that popped into her mind, remaining surprisingly calm given the fact she just killed someone while you were desperately trying not to start spiraling at the graphic scene. "I told him that I didn't want to see him anymore, and he got angry with me. I had to stop him before he did something bad."

Despite trying her best to sound sincere, you didn't look as though you believe her words in the slightest. "N- No, I- I saw you. He was just standing there, and then- then you killed him-" You let out a choked sob as you tried not to panic, your vision growing blurry as a sudden wave of lightheadedness overtook you.

"You don't know what you saw," came out her reply in a sharper tone than you were used to, one that she only used when she was frustrated. Her gaze softened, however, when she saw you on the verge of a panic attack. "Baby... Baby, hey, look at me," she gently coaxed while reaching out to take your face in her hands, trying to get you to focus on her and not the dead body on the floor.

"You killed him!" You wailed hysterically as you tried to pull away from her, something that made her eyes narrow in irritation.

"I did it to protect myself, and I did it to protect you," she snapped in a much harsher tone than you were used to. "I did it for us. I did it to help keep us safe. Don't act like you wouldn't do the same for me."

"N- No... I wouldn't kill anyone..." You insisted, your breathing shallow and quick as you really began to panic at her words.

"You would to protect me," she insisted as she moved her hands from your face down to your shoulders, her fingers digging into the skin there as she spoke. "People think that he already left for Bali, so that's what we're going to say happened. If anyone asks, we haven't seen or heard from him since yesterday, understood?"

It was hard to respond giving the fact that you were currently hyperventilating, but you did your best to nod regardless, not in full control of your actions. She was getting you to be an accomplice to her crime, and you were just letting her do it.

"Good. Now, I'm going to clean up the body, and later tonight we're going to go dump it where no one can find him." She leaned in and pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to your forehead. "I won't let anything happen to us, okay? I promise."

All you could do was stand there, frozen with fear and shock as you watched her begin to get rid of the mess she made. She wasn't at all who you thought she was, and it made you feel sick to your stomach.

You trusted her. You used to, at least, before all of this. You wanted to believe that she was telling you the truth, that it was self defense, an accident, whatever kind of lie that could be used to cover up your girlfriend being a killer.

Besides, there was no way you could leave even if you wanted to. The Quinn family practically owned the LA police department, and there was no way they'd open an investigation into Milo's murder with their daughter as the prime suspect. You were stuck.

But maybe it wouldn't be all bad. After all, she said she did it to protect you. Maybe she really did love and care about you, in her own way.

And just like the saying went, love could conquer all. You supposed in a situation like this, it meant that love knew best, too. Your Love did, anyway, and she wasn't going to let you think otherwise.

End notes: I feel like the ending might've been a little wonky but I hope you liked it regardless <3

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[thefatesofspring]

It’s quite ironic that you’re talking about putting all the cards on the table when you’re the one doing the opposite of that…😩

So let’s look at what you’ve put & I’ll give the context which puts everything “on the table”.

“Tamlin heard Feyre vomitting & pretended to be asleep”

- So the likelihood of Tamlin “pretending” to be asleep is very UNLIKELY & he was HIGHLY LIKELY to have been in a trauma induced state of SLEEP PARALYSIS, we do not have a Tamlin POV so stated Feyre’s POV as if it’s fact about why Tamlin never woke can’t really be used.

“Tamlin locked Feyre inside the house even though he she didn’t want to”

- When this particular one gets brought up I always let out a long sigh because I’m entirely confused as to what you think he should have done in that moment, what other options did you think were available to Tamlin & Feyre in that moment. Feyre had repeatedly expressed after UTM that she could not be around blood & gore, could not be around violence, Feyre had told Ianthe that the sight of red made her feel as if she was back UTM seeing all that blood, hence why she was scared of being near Lucien because she admits Lucien’s natural hair colour reminds her of Amarantha, the red rose petals at the wedding reminded her of blood. Feyre then was not eating or sleeping properly & hadn’t fully adjusted to being in her new fae body so she was a liability to herself & others around her, Feyre told Tamlin to his face that she was going to follow him to a place of conflict, a place that had blood & gore & like I said bare in mind she had previously told Tamlin she could not handle the sight of any of that, she then proceeded to shut down any other compromises Tamlin gave her, Feyre still had free reign in where she wanted to go in The Spring Court the only issue was that she wanted to go where Tamlin & his sentries were going which was rife & highly active in danger, Tamlin had expressed to her he did not have enough sentries to keep her safe, him safe & themselves which tells you that Tamlin contemplated on it but ultimately decided not to let her come because there was too much of a possibility that she should would be kidnapped & taken back to Hybern which is why the conflict was happening there in the first place! Hybern wanted Feyre, he wanted to know how Feyre got the power of all 7 high lords & Tamlin told Feyre to her face that Hybern was tracking her through the use of her magic & Tamlin knew that whoever was left from Amarantha’s court were intending on going back to Hybern & Taking Feyre with them. When Tamlin said to Feyre she would need a personal guard she lost it & admitted to Tamlin that she didn’t care if those sentries lost their lives protecting her…again she’s this to Tamlin…a male who cares deeply for his people…imagine hearing that come from the mouth of the person you love that they don’t care about people that are now supposed to be Feyre’s people as well, that’s a giant slap in the face. Then we get to the moment just before Tamlin seals Feyre in where she tells him she’s going to follow him & his sentries right into the war zone regardless of what Tamlin says…Feyre could have gone anywhere in The Spring Court…literally ANYWHERE but she was trying to choose to go to the very place where she would likely be kidnapped or killed, she refused having her own personal guard so what other options did Tamlin have? He had to think quick in that moment, so I’m genuinely curious to know what options you thought would be available to both Tamlin & Feyre in that moment now knowing all of that?

“Tamlin simply ignored and let Feyre suffer everything she experienced at Amarantha’s hand”

- This is honestly such a weird statement to make tbh & I’m unsure if you’re referring to their time UTM or after or both…but regardless, let’s assume you’re referring to their time UTM & a bit after.

Tamlin had no choice in the matter. Tamlin risked the world for Feyre by sending her back home over the wall & when Feyre decided to come back that was all on her, everything that happened to her was on her & she knew or at least had some kind of inclination that this was not going to be easy, however when the trials begin neither Tamlin, Feyre, Rhysand or Lucien could predict them or how Feyre was going to be treated & I’d remind you that part of Feyre’s trauma from UTM was caused by her very own now mate, husband & father of her child, Rhysand was the one adding to Feyre’s suffering & regardless of how she views it now FEYRE SUFFERED AT THE HANDS OF RHYSAND TOO! How Feyre felt back then about Rhysand & the situation HE had her in & experiencing is just as important to how she feels about it now. The fact is both Lucien & Rhysand had told Feyre it was going to be nearly impossible for Tamlin to get near Feyre because of the heavy surveillance he was under, not just that but look at what Amarantha did to Clare Beddor when she assumed Clare was the one who loved Tamlin & Tamlin loved, thanks to both Rhysand & Feyre selling her & her family out, what did Amarantha do?? Oh yes…she tortured Clare for days on end, she had Clare’s entire family slaughtered over the wall & then their home burned down, Rhysand let Clare be tortured for days knowing full well that she wasn’t Feyre & then when Amarantha decided she had had enough of Clare she killed her & only then did Rhysand decide to take her pain away & guess who had to watch that whole thing happen??…TAMLIN. He had to watch Amarantha do that to a woman she thought was his love & you really think that when Feyre actually comes to claim Tamlin he’s going to put her in even more danger than she’s already in??…like what?! Then when they do finally get a moment together sure he could have told her he loved her & said something to her as to why he couldn’t express his love in front of Amarantha but he decided to show her instead & again I’ll remind you Tamlin was ONLY KISSING FEYRE, it was Feyre who was trying to have sex with Tamlin. During Feyre’s time UTM we only know what she’s going through we have no idea what she’s doing to Tamlin but I can guarantee you it was bad, likely worse than what she was doing to Rhysand & that itself was terrible, then before they’re free from UTM Tamlin watched Feyre be brutally killed (further adding to his own trauma) AFTER Feyre had just STABBED HIM IN THE HEART with the ashwood dagger & then she actually dies in his arms after HE kills Amarantha. Then they get home to The Spring Court & he doesn’t even get a chance to confront his own trauma & suffering let alone Feyre’s, why?? Because being a high lord unfortunately has to come first right now, getting his court stabilised & his people safe & protected had to come first, he wasn’t fortunate like Rhysand to walk back into a city untouched & un-ransacked by Amarantha & her goons. Feyre had said it was a mutual unspoken agreement for the both of them not to talk about what happened to the both of them UTM & then (if memory serves me correctly) the 1 or 2 times Tamlin actually did try to speak about UTM Feyre shut it down & changed the subject. Tamlin isn’t responsible for Feyre’s suffering, Feyre isn’t responsible for her suffering, it was a difficult & terrifying time for the both of them but you blaming one of them is ridiculous & ludicrous & it shows your lack of literacy, the fact that you can see & know that 2 people suffered but blame one & not the other, to victimise one & then villainise the other is insane. You have no problem seeing Rhysand as a victim but you can’t for Tamlin?? You can’t see how all 3 are victims to Amarantha & aren’t to blame for their suffering? You can’t understand that not everyone handles their trauma/PTSD/suffering the same way or “correctly”?? It’s the stans like you that ultimately are the worst of the fandom because of your own hypocrisy. You have canon text at your disposal & still you refuse to see this from a wider perspective…the illiteracy is yours.

Reasons why I still like Tamlin and prefer him over Rhysand and I always will, day I DON'T KNOW!

OMG I don't remember if I posted today 😅

Just in case:

- Tamlin asked Feyre to dance while he played the fiddle just for the girl's amusement.

- Rhysand forced Feyre to dance and drink until she threw up.

[kakusu-shipping]

4, 5, and 6 for the agere asks for.... all of your BNHA regressors? :D

That's... a few too many characters for me to answer all in one ask, so let's limit it to just The League sense they all go together well

minus a Dabi icon because I can't find flags for any of my headcanons for them

Asks from Here

4. Does your regressed f/o collect things? If so, what is it and how much do you enable it?

I'll enable my League babies in anything and everything, first of all. Second, the only one of the four who actively collects things is probably Himiko. She's a bit of a hoarder of anything she deems cute and tends to just pick things up and stuff them in her pockets.

Not an active collection he does on his own but Tomura has more Dog stuffies than much anything else, though he does also have Pokemon and Minecraft ones his older self has placed on shelves he can't reach because they are Mint Condition back at AFO's manor. He use to get pretty fussy about that some times, but it's become less of a problem sense moving to the Bar.

Jin and Dabi don't collect anything, nor do either of them have much that could be considered a collection (or much at all)

5. Does your regressed f/o have any gear that they want really bad? If so, what is it?

Tomura and Himiko both get everything they want without question, so neither of them have anything they really really want at the moment and are rather satisfied with their little gear at the moment.

Jin is constantly back and forth about wanting a pacifier. He's worried he'll chew right through it and ruin it, but it'd make it harder to talk making the other him less likely to say something he doesn't agree with (tantrum triggering when they fight), but also he'd have to take off or at least lift his mask to put it in his mouth which can easily trigger an even bigger meltdown than infighting does, but also also he sees his Big Sister Himiko and Baby Brother Tomura each with want and his tiny baby heart is just so over come with jealously he can't contain it. If I got him one, I'm almost sure it'd fix the whole thing, but just cause another problem, so I'm waiting patiently for him to decide himself what he wants.

Dabi doesn't have any little gear and refuses any I've tried to gift to them. They try very hard to push their regression down and ignore it, and they don't want me or anyone else in the League to be apart of it. I try to give them space, but I have hidden a few of little Dabi's favorite snacks around their room, along with some sparklers to play with. They seem content enough with that for now.

6. What is your favorite thing in your regressed f/o’s playroom?

For Tomura it was back at the Mansion, he had a crib with a mobile on it, it was the only thing his father had ever contributed to his Regression space, so of course it was his favorite. It played a lullaby as it spun I'd never heard before, and always put Tomura right to sleep. I wonder if it's still there...

Himiko has a lot of toys, most of which she's stolen from dollar stores and gas stations, but one Jin got her; A 4ft tall Valentine's day Teddy bear. It's big and soft baby pink holding a big red heart. I ended up cutting the heart free from the bear's stomach so now Himiko can wiggle herself behind it and sleep in the bear's arms. It's very cute <3

Jin doesn't have playroom per say, he doesn't have a lot of gear either. Rather than sit still somewhere with toys and games he'd rather follow me, Magne, or Himiko around while regressed. Though out of the few things I've seen him get attached to I think my favorite is the baby blanket Himiko got for him. It USE to be soft baby blue but he won't let me wash it at all and carried it everywhere with him, cries into it, uses it to cover his face, and sleeps with it, so it's gotten pretty grimy and is more of a muted color now. Himiko thinks it's gross now and won't touch it, but I've convinced her not to comment on it, sense if she doesn't like it, Jin is likely to throw it away... and then regret it.

Dabi, much like Jin, doesn't have a little space or many little items. Usually when they regress they lock themselves away in their room and don't come back out until they come out of it, so I don't know what their little space looks like, or anything they might comfort themselves with... I hope they're okay in there...

[snailfen]

i woke up from a nap 30 minutes ago with the best animatic idea (two birds by regina spektor my beloved) ive had in 17 years with kris and lyra and ive been stuck in a very intense catastrophic autism event about it the entire 30 minutes,

(catagory 20 autism event in the tags below)

[fingertipsmp3]

There’s something weirdly nice about finding out you’re not the only person who dislikes someone. It’s such a relief to be able to be like “okay thank God I can bitch about this person now”

[ep1thymy]

I will not text my ex I will not text my ex I will not I will not I will not

I ran out of tags

One Last time to be held though

I would cry the whole time

But at least I would know

And I could savour every moment until I had to let go

[aleolusor]

When he allows himself the chance to take a more luxurious bath, Aventurine likes to let himself sliiide to the bottom of the tub and lay there for as long as he’s able before coming back up for a breath. It’s peaceful for him, to be submerged, drift away, and tune out the outside world for a moment.

[logansbaby]

GUILTY AS SIN - Logan Howlett

❥ summary: the entire time you’ve known logan howlett, you’ve tried to keep your longings locked. then, one night, all that effort goes to waste when you’re confronted about your feelings.

word count: 8.5k (IM SORRY!!!!)

pairings: logan howlett x fem! mutant reader

content warnings: 18+ CONTENT MDNI, masturbation, dirty thoughts, light choking, multiple orgasms, oral (reader and logan receiving), spitting, sixty-nining, scent kink, like one spank, underwear stays ON, slight hint of arousal from crying?, creampie, p in v (practice safe sex ty!)

❥ a/n: guys…… am i…. a whore? (yes) do i need to be locked up? (also yes). i started this when i was on my period so maybe that’s the reason this is so filthy? anyway i don’t know how it got to 8k of smut but it DID and i have nothing to say about that… also reader has a mutation it’s not super in depth but her hair changes to red in certain situations and she has red light/energy she manifest in her hands, kind of confusing but it’s okay. anyway please please enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

‘I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?’

Guilty as Sin? - Taylor Swift

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

THE SHEETS are chilled, crisp to the touch, cold enough that shivers tickle their way across exposed skin. A sigh is heard, loud enough for wandering ears as a figure moves about in the unmade, blanket muddled bed. The window had been left open, and as a result, cold air had poured into the room.

Despite the fact that goosebumps adorn your body, it felt as though you were on fire. Huffs escaped parted lips, a charged hum zipping through your veins that only intensified each time you moved. You’d been trying to sleep for the past couple hours, trying to ignore the need thrumming through you, but had only managed to fail.

You turn on your side for possibly the twentieth time, but the position only worsens your state as the flesh of your thighs squeeze unintentionally, a wave of brief relief sent to your throbbing core. Tears brim your lashes, damp with frustration because fuck, your body was humming with lust and everything was so, so sensitive.

This was all Logan’s fault.

The man has been gone less than a week and yet, your body was practically vibrating with need, trembling with desire.

The feelings you harbor make you feel shameful and guilty for a handful of reasons.

Logan was not your boyfriend; he wasn’t even a friend. While he was cordial with the others in the mansion, he remained cold and indifferent toward you.

You pretended it never bothered you when he pointedly ignored your greetings in passing or refused to partner up with you. You didn’t understand what you’d done to upset him, to warrant his treatment of you as if you were the most annoying person on the planet. More often than not, you are the subject of the man’s pointed glare.

So, logically, your heart shouldn’t race at the mere thought of him. Nor should desire pool between your thighs whenever images of his sweaty form cloud your mind.

By definition, you were immensely smart; a genius with how you could understand what others could not.

Though, you were only human and Logan fucking Howlett was a man worth embarrassing yourself over, especially when he looked like he did.

He wasn’t, your mind huffed.

He was, your heart retorted.

A memory comes forward, one that has your cheeks blushing, your chest rising a little faster than before.

A couple weeks ago, you’d been up late, struggling to sleep and with the way it evaded you, wandering the halls had been your solution, in hopes of tiring yourself out.

But when you had walked down your hallway, you froze at the sight of a shirtless Logan in his room, the door left ajar.

A towel covered his head as he scrubbed away the wetness in his hair, and you desperately hoped he hadn’t noticed your presence. Water dribbled down his muscular body, and your eyes greedily watched each droplet descend down, glistening against the tan stomach you wanted to bite. What really had you drooling, however, was the thick, prominent vein that crept down into the waistband of his gray sweatpants. Said pants had your eyes wide with the prominent bulge tented in the material.

When you just barely caught yourself from moaning, you had dashed back to your room right away. You were wide awake still, but for a completely different reason. All you could think about was tracing your tongue along that vein.

If you’d fucked yourself that night to the thought of him and his glistening torso, no one had to know.

So theoretically, if you gave in to your cravings, it wouldn’t be the first time, but it certainly wouldn’t make you feel any less guilty.

Scarlett hues dust your cheekbones, lips bitten until they’re swollen and shiny with spit. Your breasts ache from inside the confines of the pink, lacy shirt, made worse with each labored breath you inhale as perky nipples brush the material. Your hole feels incredibly empty, the need to be filled overpowering. Your clit, puffy and neglected, throbs with pure, searing need.

Another wave of aching pleasure from your wetness breaks your resolve— a shaky hand slipping from its place on your stomach down, down, down until cold fingers meet the mess between your thighs.

A gasp sounds, melodic as it swirls with heavy breathes, fluttering around the room as you brush over your clit. Even through the material of your underwear, the slight pressure of your fingers made you mewl.

Flashes of Logan dance behind closed lids, your imagination running wild while you messily swirl over your bundle of nerves.

You wanted him so, so bad, in every way possible, it actually hurt, both your heart and core.

Your mind submerges your consciousness with thoughts of him; his pretty hazel eyes, the slope of his nose, the tufts of his brown hair. The muscles that were constantly on display, his thick thighs that you wanted to ride until you came all over him, and the huge bulge that was ever present in those flattering jeans of his (and if it was a reoccurring fantasy of yours to ride that delicious bulge over his jeans until you both came from just dry humping, again— no one had to know).

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stop thinking about Logan.

Him hovering over you, dog tags swinging in your face as he fucked you hard. Him picking you up and taking you against the nearest surface, lips trapped in an erotic kiss. Him prying your thighs open as he licked up your pussy, tongue dipping into your hole to lap up all the desire pooling, his lips wrapping around the swollen bud and sucking violently. Him holding your face lovingly as his hips thrusted his cock deeper into your throat, groans spilling at the gag you’d let out.

You were split between wanting to sink down onto his cock and rut your swollen nub against the curls that nestled the base of him and stuffing his dick down your throat, gagging around him until he came and coated your throat with his spend.

You didn’t even bother to remove the damp underwear, instead circling the engorged bud over the material— and oh, fuck. The roughness of the lace mixed with the delicious rubbing of your fingers send little moans tumbling from parted lips.

Your unoccupied hand slips under the shirt covering your chest and only settle once your nipple is pinched between determined fingers, rolling the pert bud in tandem with the amorous touch of your hand on your sex.

Pleasure nips at your pelvis, and if you were a little more aware, you’d be embarrassed at how fast you to reaching your peak. But, as it is, your brain is completely hazy with wanton thinking and the only thing on your mind was lessening the ache that pulsates deep within you.

And fuck, you’re so fucking needy for logan that you try to pretend it’s his fingers abusing your clit, his fingers tugging at the sensitive buds of your chest. You want his tongue between your thighs, licking up your desire and sucking your puffy bud into his pretty mouth.

Chest rising rapidly, you feel overwhelmed at the fantasies swirling before your eyes. Its far too much— the mix of your filthy desires and your fingers rubbing your nub have your legs quivering as wetness coats your hand.

“Logan, Logan, Logan—“ The chant of his name mindlessly falls from you, the feeling of your orgasm washing over you, threatening to pull you under those soaring, unforgiving waves of pleasure.

Eyes snap shut, ears ring with white noise, and your hips hump your hand pitifully— you were an absolute, writhing mess against the sheets.

The hair messily strewn around your pillow shifts then from its natural state to a dark red. Even with your eyes shut, you could feel the vermillion light whirling at your fingertips, begging to be released.

Your mutation was not one of subtlety.

Searing bliss coils in your lower tummy, your button tingling with the after effects of the orgasm that crashed into you. You sigh, because even though you just came, you felt far from satisfied. Your body buzzes with sweltering hunger, all the way from the top of your head down to the tips of your toes. Even if you fuck yourself dizzy with another orgasm, you knew it won’t satiate your body. Not completely, anyway.

Before you could slip your fingers inside your weeping hole, a loud knock echos through your room.

You still; desperate and hoping that if you ignored the noise, whoever was knocking would simply go away. But when another rhythmic thump comes a few seconds later, you huff.

It’s well past midnight at this point, so who in their right mind would be going about and slamming their fists on your door?

Apparently, you arent moving fast enough when the person has the nerve to knock for a third time, hand a little heavier than before. A growl, tinged with annoyance, slips out as you fling yourself up and off the bed.

You stomp to the door, ready to tell the person on the other side to fuck off.

But when you actually swing open the mahogany door, all the anger simmering beneath your heated skin disappears, along with your breath, as your eyes take in the sight before you.

Logan Howlett stands before you, seemingly angry as a frown etches deep on his face. He glares at you, hazel eyes swarming with exasperation and something unknown.

And little did you know, all of your craziest, fatal fantasies were about to come true.

❥

The moment Logan steps into the mansion, finally back from the complete shit show of a mission Charles had sent him on, he tenses instantly.

His fingers clench into fists, tight enough that the skin turns white. The adamantium claws threaten to poke through his knuckles as he inhales deeply.

Big mistake.

That sweet, sweet scent swarms his heightened senses, the intoxicating smell nearly making him dizzy. His heart speeds up, his stomach flutters, and his cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

Logan could fucking smell you.

It’s a heady aroma thats so completely you, that his body feels deranged, just about ready to march up those steps and break down your door.

He shakes himself loose from the metaphorical shackles of you and begins the journey to his room, trying to block out how delicious and syrupy you smell.

He decides then, as his body finally moves up the steps, that ignoring you is the best option.

But as he gets closer to the hallway he shares with you (just his luck, by the way!), he realizes that plan is a joke.

He feels his control slipping, especially as the heady scent grows stronger, tinged with something else— something erotic and salacious.

Logan curses, his entire being rigid.

You’re aroused, the smell seeping under the crack of the door giving you away instantly.

The idea of you whining as your pussy drips slick between your thighs has him grinding his teeth, fingers flexing and unflexing in an attempt to harness the control back to his body.

Though, it goes out the window entirely as his body is apruptly outside your door, unconsciously drawn to the very essence of you.

There’s a reason Logan has kept carefully crafted distance between the two of you.

The minute he was introduced to you, a new member of the x-men and teacher for the school, he knew he was fucked.

From the first look shared between you, he knew.

A pretty smile had graced your lips, eyes filled with joy as you greeted him, a hand outstretched in his direction as your hair swayed with your movements. In your cute, little outfit (a pretty, white lace dress that kissed the tops of your thighs, matched with baby pink pumps that accentuated your legs), he thought you looked like a princess.

He had stayed frozen, however, because he was assaulted with the fucking smell of you. It was nothing like he’d encountered before, and he’d been around for over a century.

Your scent was so fucking sweet, vanilla and honey permeated his nostrils and right in that moment, he wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

He knew that he had to keep his distance, otherwise he’d become addicted to you in every sense. If he let himself, he’d worship the very ground you walked on. He couldn’t risk having the walls he’d spent so long building to crumble.

And in an instant, he was angry that his body had reacted this way to someone he’d never even met. He was angry he wanted to press sweet kisses on your face while simultaneously wanting to fuck you on his cock until you screamed his name.

So, with that, he’d made up his mind.

He had simply glared at you, refused to acknowledge your existence and stormed out of Charles’ office. And since that day, he’s tried his hardest to pretend you didn’t exist— if only to ease the way you constantly haunted his every thought.

He pretended it didn’t kill him to see how your face would crumble at his rude behavior, at how he avoided you at all costs. He couldn’t help it, though, because if he treated you how he wanted, like the princess you were, he’d never let you go.

A sudden noise shakes him from the depths of his mind, that carnal, sensual essence growing stronger by the second.

“Logan, Logan, Logan,” your honeyed voice whines, all airy and light.

And it’s almost comical how the telltale snikt! sounds immediately after because what?

What the fuck? He thinks, mind utterly destroyed at the revelation that not only were you seemingly fucking yourself, but you were moaning his name.

Logan growls, low and dangerous as his claws reveal themselves, cutting through the skin of his knuckles. His body feels unnaturally hot, practically set on fire. His cock now uncomfortably hard in his jeans, lustful essence bubbling at his tip and no doubt staining his boxers.

With the wafts of your pretty aroma and sounds of your lewd whimpers, he knows he can’t resist you any longer.

His hand lifts, claws retracting as his heavy fist slams on your door.

And the sight of you, face shiny with a sheen of sweat has him choking on his own saliva.

Tonight was the night his control finally snaps, despite months of work put into avoiding you.

Logan knows his animalistic side is about to be released; he’s going to fucking ruin you.

❥

You gulp, a hand resting on the door frame as you stand frozen because honestly, what the fuck?

You deduce that the universe hates you because why? Why would the man you’d been thinking of while masturbating be right in front of you?

It only dawns on you when Logan’s gaze swipes over your figure that you’re basically naked. Clad only in your blushed, frilly top and the matching underwear, the latter soaked with both your arousal and release.

You shrink beneath his eyes, warmth simmering hot on the apples of your cheeks, and your mouth opens and closes, yet no words follow.

“Uh— Logan, hey!” Your voice is shaky, and whether it’s from the power of your release or the nerves that bumble beneath your skin at the man before you, you couldn’t tell. All you know is that you want the ground to swallow you up whole.

Logan doesn’t respond, just continues to stare at you in a way that you don’t understand. You assume he’s just gotten home from the very long mission, and confusion settles over you as to why he was at your door, especially considering how he badly despises you.

You’re about to voice that exact thought when Logan beats you to speaking.

“I heard you.” His gruff tone is coated in something darker than you’d ever heard before.

For a moment, you’re perplexed, brows furrowing and raising before your eyes go comically wide.

And— oh, oh.

“Can smell you, too.”

Heat licks at your whole body, embarrassment threatening to envelope you entirely. Tears of horror tickle your lash line, because this was probably the most painful moment of your life. Not only does the man hate you, but now he’s heard you moan his name as you came all over your fingers? How pathetic are you?

You open your mouth, an apology heavy on your tongue. You need to say something to quell the panic flooding your body— you’re never going to get over this

Though, before you can even speak, Logan slams his mouth onto yours.

He holds your head softly, a deep contrast to the way his lips melt over yours. A moan slips from your open mouth, the feel of his lips sucking at your bottom lip feels immensely intense and so, so good.

Your arms wrap around his neck, fingertips tangling themselves in the hair at his nape like you’ve wanted to do since the very day you met him.

“Logan—“ you whimper against his mouth, trying and failing to understand what the fuck was happening as he slips his tongue inside your wet, warm mouth. “Logan.”

He ignores you, grunting against your spit, slick lips as his hands travel down your curves, until they find purchase on your ass, gripping hard. A choked gasp spills from you as he suddenly paws at you, picking you up effortlessly in his strong arms.

The idea of him holding you up with no hesitation has your hips shuddering forward without your permission. Vaguely, you feel him move past the threshold of your door, slamming it shut before pressing your body up against the wood.

Logan switches between licking your tongue and sucking meanly at your lips, until they feel full and swollen with his attention. You’re pliant— almost willing to let him do anything he’d like to you.

Almost.

As good as his tongue feels dancing with yours, confusion still settles over your mind. Perhaps this was a dream and if that’s the case, you never want to wake up.

“Wait—wait.” You pull back, the questions swirling inside probing you until it’s impossible to ignore.

“Huh, baby?” Logan groans, teeth pulling at your bottom lip before sucking at the swollen skin.

Babybabybabybabybaby— the pet name clouds your senses for a second, a rush of arousal pooling at your hole. You want to cry at how that simple, simple word makes you feel.

“Stop that.” You mumble, pulling your head back and lips out of his reach.

Logan stares at you, silent but waiting as he waits for you say whatever is on your mind. Frankly, he wants his tongue to be buried deep in your cunt right about now, but, details.

“What is going on?” Breathless, the question settles between you, causing Logan’s brow to raise.

“Well, my tongue was just in your mouth—“ you slap his chest, face turning warm at his bluntness.

“Not that. I’m— why are you here? Why are you kissing me when you can’t stand me?” Your voice is quiet, insecurity present in your tone. Nimble fingers grasp the dog tags that rest on his chest, and you’ve never been grateful for it.

At that, Logan’s face scrunches up, confusion floating around his irises, lips curving downward.

“What are you talking about?” If it wasn’t for the genuineness in his voice, you would’ve smacked his chest again at how clueless he was.

“What do you mean? You’ve made it very clear how you feel about me; you’ve despised my entire existence the moment we met— wait, I can’t even say that because you didn’t even have the decency to greet me!”

Frustration hovers over you heavily, enough to snap you out of the lustful spell Logan often inflicts upon you. You slide down his body, ignoring the quiver of your cunt when you make contact with his jean clad bulge. You push at his chest, needing distance to ensure you actually get your words out and don’t end up back with his tongue down your throat.

“I don’t hate you.” Logan grunts out, staring at you as you pace the wooden floors of the room. Vaguely, he’s paying attention, but he can’t be blamed for the way his eyes focus on the way your ass shifts with each step, the plush skin so inviting as the lace cup each cheek. “What’re you on about?”

Frankly, Logan’s pissing you off. The vague answers are getting on your nerves, enough that you feel yourself snap.

Your hair swiftly turns bright red, a scarlet blossoming over the strands until they coat them completely. Your emotions could never quite be concealed, not with the way your hair would turn different variations of red when you were angry, furious, sad, happy, aroused.

“You’ve been a dick to me, treating me like shit for no reason and now you think you can just waltz in here and kiss me like that? You think you can pretend to want me when we both know that’s not true?”

Balls of fiery, red energy bloom at your fingertips, and though you stand in your pretty pink assortment, you look the part of threatening.

It’s too bad the abrupt display of your mutation, mixed with fiery words, has Logan’s cock jerking with want.

“Sometimes, I question whether or not you’re actually a genius.”

And just like that, you feel the words like a punch to the gut. You’re so mad, so blind by the intense emotions you feel for Logan, that you feel those pesky flames of energy moving up your wrist and forearm, a telltale sign of your anger.

“Fuck you, Logan.” You hiss, your fingers hot with the heat coursing through them.

What pisses you off more, to which your hair and eyes darken to a dangerous maroon, is the fact that Logan wears a faint smirk, watching you with humor as if you aren’t showcasing how pissed you are.

“Are you done yet?” Logan takes a step closer, uncaring of the way your mutation flares furiously at his presence.

“Logan, leave me alone. I don’t need you to sit here and pretend to want me. I don’t need you to make fun of me, either.” Huffing, you glare up at the man before you, who stares back just as pointedly.

You turn around, back facing him as you go to enter the attached bathroom when all at once, you’re spun back around by a hand on your nape, your neck in a delicious tight grip as Logan pulls you into his body, smashing his mouth on yours for the second time tonight.

Your body betrays you, a desperate whimper ebbs out at how fucking good Logan’s lips feel on yours.

His teeth bite down on your top lip, before suckling sweetly to combat the pain flourishing there. You moan, mouth falling open as he messily kisses you. The intoxicating taste of him swarms your tastebuds, his tongue swirling with yours in a way that leaves you dizzy with need.

A string of spit connects between your mouths as Logan pulls away, chuckling meanly when you promptly follow the warm wetness of his lips. A rough hand grips your throat again, tight enough to leave you feeling breathless but delicious enough to make your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“So that’s what you think, princess? That I don’t want you?” Logan’s fingers flex around your throat, gripping at your jaw to capture all of your attention. As if you were anything but than enamored with him. “You think that’s what I’ve been doing, huh?”

You can only stare up at him as your heartbeat rings loudly through your eardrums. A hand goes to tug at his shirt, an attempt to steady yourself, but Logan’s faster as he grabs your wrist.

“Answer me.” He whispers hotly as the hand holding yours captive moves to intertwine your fingers.

The touch of him, the hold on your throat and roughness of his fingers in yours, renders you speechless. You’re so overcome with your emotions that you can only manage to nod. The weight of you goes limp in his hold, silently begging him to do something to satiate the hunger burning every inch of you.

“Words, baby. Got nothing to say now, huh?” He taunts, his grip leaving your neck in favor of thumbing at your lips.

“Yes— I, it’s what it’s seemed like, what you’ve made me feel. Thought you hated me.”

Logan’s nose twitches, no doubt smelling your arousal as it leaks into the material covering you, ruining the lace.

“Couldn’t be more wrong,” He groans, pushing his thumb past the soft of your lips. His knees nearly buckle at the feel of your mouth closing and sucking his thumb, tongue rolling up against the skin as though it was his cock instead. “Shit, baby.”

You whine around his finger, eyes fluttering up at him in a way that has his dick aching for you.

“Fuck, been dreaming about you since the day we met. Been dreaming of you in every way possible.” He admits, a smile tugging at his lips at the way you freeze, lips leaving his thumb with a ‘pop’.

“What?” It’s a whisper, barely audible but he heard it all the same. The butterflies in your stomach are now having a complete rager, bolts of anxiousness kissing your skin.

“Of course.” Logan leanes down, pressing a kiss to your wet lips. “Knew the second I saw you you’d ruin me, so I just… stayed away. I never meant to make you think the worst. M’sorry, honey.”

This was not the way you’d expected tonight to go.

It’s as though all the confusion, anger, and sadness drain from you and, in its place,its full of the tremulous feeling of the admission.

And despite the fact that you’d fucked yourself thinking about him, and he’d heard, you feel incredibly shy. You drop your head to his hard chest, your hands squeezing his own where he holds them.

“I don’t know what to say.” You utter, brain all muddled and no other thoughts come forth as Logan haunts every inch of your mind. You feel like an idiot, even though Logan had acted like a dick for the better part you’d known him.

Logan simply lifts your head, invading your senses as his nose bumps yours.

“You were a dick.” It’s spoken factually, making him huff against your face.

“I know.”

“You could’ve kissed me months ago.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

His quick reply leaves you flushing, but when you nod, his lips are back on yours instantly, in their rightful place.

The kiss is messy; hot, wet, and dirty. Logan groans when you jump up, strong arms catching your thighs in a tight grip. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you lose yourself in the thrilling taste of his mouth. You unconsciously start humping him, dragging your drenched panties across his hard dick.

You suck on his tongue before capturing his lip between your teeth, nails dragging down his shoulder blades. A loud, feral growl escapes Logan, and without another thought, he throws your pliant body on the bed.

And at the sight of you, Logan feels like he’s about to come right then and there. In your skimpy outfit, so much plush, soft skin is on display. The hair tumbling from your shoulders has turned a dark cherry color during your kiss, and your hands are tickled with red energy that’s twirling up your arms, not unlike the way vines thread onto an old home.

This time, though, he knows you’re not upset, but instead, aroused.

He can smell the way your slick seeps from your fluttering hole, how it sticks to the skin of your thighs.

And fuck, he wants to sink his face right in front of your pussy and inhale until he’s woozy with the complete perfume of you.

So, that’s exactly what he does.

Your eyes widen as Logan drops onto the floor in front of the bed, yanking your body to the edge. Your lower half is completely in his grip, and he stares at you for a moment, eyes hazy with lust. Then, he’s pulling your pussy all the way up to his nose. The feel of him so close to your puffy lips has you clenching, even more so when he lowers his head and fucking sniffs you.

“Fuck, baby. Been dreaming of this since the minute I saw you. Smells so fuckin’ sweet.” Logan inhales deeply again, smattering messy, open mouthed kisses to the skin of your upper thigh. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to throw you over my shoulder, get you alone and eat this pussy.”

“Logan!” You whimper out. The sound is completely feeble but you couldn’t care less, not with the way he’s sucking bruises into your skin. “Please, please.”

Spurred on by your whines, he sinks his canines into the skin, where your thigh meets the lips of your core.

Pain simmers into pleasure as the sting is followed by his tongue. Rosy splotches decorate your upper thighs, a preview of the bruises that will glaze the skin tomorrow. Logan does this until he’s satisfied with how his teeth imprint the skin. It’s as if it’s his way of solidifying that you’re his, like he’s staking his claim with his bruises smattering your thighs.

At some point your hand finds purchase in his hair, pawing at the tufts and tugging his face closer to where you need him most. He groans, the pain at his scalp sending jolts of desire throughout his body.

He sneaks a look up at you, and shit, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Your head is thrown back, sending those rebellious, red strands fluttering around you. Your hips are canting up to his mouth, and the smell of you, mixed with the previous orgasm you’d worked out before he interrupted, sends his senses in overdrive.

He knows he’d tortured you both enough when you can’t stop shivering with need, when his own hips brush against the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, Logan licks a long, wet stripe up your clothed pussy, suctioning around your enlarged clit.

The taste of you, heady, sweet, and so distinctly you, floods his tongue. He knew you’d taste good, but this? Oh, he wanted to drink you up all hours of the day.

With a growl, Logan tuggs the lace aside and loses it. He sucks, licks, and mouthed at your cunt like a man starved. His tongue dips into your hole before licking up and down your slit.

Moans of his name sound around the walls of your room, along with the filthy noise of his lips sucking your swollen button.

You’ve never felt like this before; the way he’s eating you out has your entire body on fire, and if you could see yourself, you’d see how ruby colored lines swirl all around your hands, how your hair practically glows with the intensity of your feelings.

He’d been attracted to you the minute he saw you— but the way you look when your mutation is at work? The way your hair grows shades of intoxicating reds and the way the fiery energy glows from the tips of your fingers to your elbows? Oh, how it fucking wrecks him. He just wants to keep you captive in this bedroom for all of eternity, if only to see you like this all the time.

“Feels so fucking good, fuck.” You’re a blubbering mess, hands tugging Logan’s hair hard, resulting in a moan that vibrates your pussy.

“Mine.” He grunts, and you gasp at the sensation of saliva as he spits directly onto your clit. “My fuckin’ pussy.”

Then, he latches his soft lips around your puffy bud and sucks hard. His dirty words and lucious mouth have your thighs shivering, hips bucking with insatiable need.

Like you’d done when you were alone and thinking about him, whimpers of ‘Logan’ slip past bitten lips as you rut against his face.

“That’s it, baby, say my name. Taste so fuckin’ good.” He humms against the slick, swell of your pussy.

A stream of ‘fuckfuckfuck’ is audible from open lips, forming an ‘o’ as the rush of delicious, hot pleasure pours over you completely.

As you come down, the pleasure fizzles out and overwhelming bursts of overstimulation bubble over you. Logan continues to lap at your wetness, groaning at your taste.

“S’too much, Logan.” Shaky hands grip his brown locks and you try and fail to bring the man away from your throbbing hole. His tongue laps at the taste of you, dipping in as deep as he could to savor every last drop. “Oh, fuck.”

“Taste too fuckin’ sweet, baby. Can’t help it.”

Logan grips tightly at your thighs, cruelly pinching at the flesh as he devours your pretty clit.

He can’t get enough, and seemingly, neither can you, with the way you buck into his warm, slick mouth despite the crushing pleasure. The material of your underwear snaps against you as Logan’s grip loosens, but he still eats you out as though there was no barrier.

His soft lips and dangerous tongue make it difficult to do anything but take the mind-numbing pleasure.

He’s content to stay here; between your gorgeous thighs and ravage your cunt all night, pull orgasms from you until you forget everything except the syllables that make up his name.

Except, the words that come from you have him still against you, his cock jerking and responding immediately to the addictive tilt of your voice.

“Logan— Logan, wanna suck your cock. Please.”

It was as though you were made for him— every inch of you riles him up like no one else has before and he has to take a deep, deep breath to refrain from coming in his jeans like a damn virgin.

With one last lick up your lace covered cunt, his face is suddenly above yours, the sight is lethal. The entirety of his lower face wears your wetness with pride, glistening and gleaming in the lowlight of the room. His eyes look animalistic, the hazel taken over by the black of dilated pupils.

Logan looks at you like he wants to fucking destroy you. You know without a doubt you’d let him.

A sweet kiss is pressed against your lips, a warm caress of his tongue on yours, the musky taste of your pussy causing you to part your thighs further. You whine once more, because you crave the heady taste of his cock; your mouth salivates at the thought of his tip heavy on your tongue.

“Easy, honey. Can smell how bad you want it.”

If you were less intoxicated by lust, you’d be mortified at the knowledge Logan can smell your arousal right now.

“Logan.” Pathetic whimpers and moans against his mouth have him pulling back, gritting his teeth to force himself to get a grip. It doesn’t work, not with the way you’re spread out below him, face pretty with a tiny that vaguely mimics the hue of your top and panties.”Please.”

How is he meant to last when you sound like that? All fucked out from just his tongue alone?

“C’mere’.” Logan mutters, tugging your body all the way up his chest, maneuvering you until your pussy is hovering above his mouth, facing his cock.

Completely fucked out, saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of his bulge, massive even in the confines of jeans.

You’re confused as to why Logan has put you on his chest, but it makes sense when he pulls your thighs down, mouth finding your wet, sopping sex once more.

You cry out, hips jolting at the way his tongue push the fabric away from your puffiness, immediately wrapping around your clit. At the way you were shaking on his face, unmoving besides the subtle thrusts of hips, he stops.

“Lo—“

“Go on then, baby. Suck my cock, just like you wanted.”

And oh, you both feel the slick that follows after those rasped words fill the air.

Only once you undo that damn belt buckle and pull both his jeans and boxers down, just enough to see the way his cock bounced out, wet at the red, swollen tip, does Logan resume licking up your pussy.

Fueled by the return of those talented lips, you lean forward without another thought.

Licking from base to tip, a moan vibrates against his cock as you hum, a taste so distinctly Logan making you feel light and warm. You lick up and down him sloppy, spitting on the tip of him as you slick his dick up, before finally wrapping your lips around him.

“Fuck.” His growl is borderning on feral; his teeth finding purchase on your asscheek and biting, an attempt to ground himself. It only serves to have his hips jump at the feel of you whining on him, sucking him down so fucking good. “Fuck, knew you’d be good with that pretty fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s so focused on the way you’ve started bobbing up and down the length of him, overcome with euphoria at the warmth and wetness as you suck and swirl your tongue, that he’s stopped his attention to your pussy, something he’s only reminded of as you wiggle impatiently over him.

“Sorry, princess, you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy.” He grits out, fingers gripping the flesh of your thighs at the little ‘hmph!’ you let out, pulling off his cock.

Though he can’t see you, he knows there’s a string of spit that spans from your swollen lips to his pulsating cock. He shutters, overwhelmed by you entirely, before burying his face into your weepy cunt.

”Oh! Logan, feels so good!” With a pathetic little whimper, his cock fills your mouth again as you sink down, satisfied with the way his tongue is licking at you.

A blend of moans sound as he wraps his lips around your puffed clit, as you ease his cock into your throat.

Logan’s eating you out in a frenzy, crazed by the tang of you soaking his mouth, chin, and nose. Despite the warmth bubbling in his stomach, he’s determined to make you come on his tongue again.

When thick fingers nudge into your hole unexpectedly, you mewl at the blissful feeling.

Logan’s fingers work steadily inside you in tandem with the way his mouth suckles divinely at your button. You’re an absolute mess— grinding down on his face, riding his digits, gagging as Logan’s hips match the pace of his fingers, grunts vibrating against you as he fucks your throat.

Logan curls his fingers in a way that has you seeing every fucking color of the rainbow. You come, moaning around the base of his cock and rocking back and forth on his fingers and mouth, muffled sobs spilling from your stuffed mouth.

When he feels you shivering on his tongue, overstimulated and sensitive, he pulls away from your center, the soaked fabric of your panties falling back into place once more.

Your mouth is still full of him, lips lazily sucking him down as your body tries to get ahold of the white hot pleasure still coursing through you.

“C’mere, baby.”

It’s a soft whisper against your thigh, but it settles over you, his soothing voice swirling around your shaky body like a warm blanket. Letting his cock fall from your lips, you scramble as fast as your body allows before you find yourself straddling Logan, staring down at the man with cloudy, wet eyes.

And maybe Logan is sick— because the sight of tears spilling over your cheeks has his cock unbelievably hard, a growl threatening to tumble out at the way your pretty, crimson hair spills over your shoulders.

Still, he wants to make sure you’re okay.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Logan watches at the way a small smile graces your features, even as tears continue to glisten your lash line. “You okay?”

“Nothing's wrong, just feel so good.” Your voice is a little hoarse, no doubt from the way his dick was fucking your whiny mouth. Your voice is still the sweetest thing he’s ever heard, those few words going straight to his dick.

Logan feels his own lips tug upwards as you speak. Even though he’s fucked you silly and stolen two orgasms, he tenses with desire as he notes the want dancing in your irises.

“Good.”

“Mhmm.”

There’s a beat of silence, a moment where hungry eyes lock in on one another, sensual energy threatening to burst.

Then, in a flash, lips are locked and tongues whirl together familiarly. It’s a hot, lewd kiss filled to the brim with desire— the passion almost too much with how it lights up every inch of your bodies, a fire threatening to spread.

Neither of you are sure who moved first— but it doesn’t matter because the way Logan’s hand wraps around your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail in a tight grip, steals your attention.

If someone were to see the two of you, they would see how desperate and needy you both were.

You’re kissing Logan’s top lip, biting before soothing the sting with a sweet, soft suck. Your thighs are spread over his own entirely and your position has your cunt settling over his cock nicely. Logan’s free hand grips the skin of your ass tight, guiding as you grind against him, the soaked panties catching on the tip of him with each thrust. The fingers tangled in your hair are unforgiving, tugging harshly as Logan grunts into your open mouth.

You’re both a mess of passion and lust— and your body thrums with the idea of his cock inside you.

“Such a good girl, that’s it. Fuck—“ Logan nearly whines, the feel of your wetness on his bulge has him trapping your lips in another all consuming kiss.

Your hands, lit up with energy, find purchase in his pretty hair, yanking as he kisses you vulgar, because everything is somehow too much and not enough.

“Logan— need you. Need you so bad, baby.”

Logan wants to eat you up entirely— somehow you’re still not satiated, rubbing your slick all over his lap and begging him for more. If he was a better man, he would’ve fucked you already. As it is, he likes it a little too much hearing you beg for him.

“Shhh, you got me, honey. I’m right here.”

“Fuck me, please. Need you inside, Logan.”

There’s tears in your eyes again, ready to spill over if the ache between your thighs isn’t soothed in the next five minutes. You’re clinging to him, hips stuttering because it’s just not enough and you both know it.

“My poor baby.” He sighs, the words somehow a mix of condescending and genuine and it makes you cry out. “So needy, huh?”

“Just for you.” The way you say it, it’s a message you both understand— you need him in every way possible, not just sexually.

He wonders if you know just how badly he needs you, especially now that he’s got a taste of you.

“I’m yours—“ you start, but it’s cut off by the squeak you emit when you’re suddenly flipped over, Logan’s muscular form hovering over you, his dog tags swinging between you.

“You’re mine.” It’s not a question, but a statement and it sends a thrill over you.

“Yours.” You’re nodding, eyes wide and so fucking pretty that it makes Logan squeeze his hands, the metal of his claws threatening to break through the skin.

He pulls his shirt off then, pride filling his chest at the way your eyes glaze over, a lip taken between your teeth as you stare at the vein that leads to his cock, which is pulsing with the promise of release.

He doesn’t comment on your lustful eyes, instead tracing his fingers down your body, until he reaches the hem of your baby pink lace. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination but Logan might break something if he doesn’t see your tits in all their glory.

You get the message, leaning up and slowly pulling the fabric from your chest, your breasts and midsection on full display. If he hadn’t already eaten you out twice, you would’ve moved to cover your taut nipples. Instead, you grip the chain of his necklace and pull him back down with you, sighing when you’re chest to chest.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” He says, pecking your lips once, licking a stripe down your throat. Wetness coats both nipples as his tongue swirls over them. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to have you under me?”

You moan, nails digging into his shoulder blades at the fluttery feeling his lips bring, deep enough to elicit blood from his skin. Logan groans, head tipping back as his hips thrust down suddenly, the tip of his cock ramming into your clit.

“Fuck, Logan.” Your hands span the expanse of his back, scratching each time he bumps your button just right. His jeans are still on, resting just below his thighs and something about the way he couldn’t even get up to properly take them off makes you shudder.

He’s rutting against you now, dick rubbing filthy over your panties and it dawns on you then that he hasn’t come yet, too preoccupied with taking care of you.

Determined, you slide one hand onto his asscheek, pushing him further into you, while your other grips his chin, pulling his mouth to yours in a slick, open-mouth kiss.

“C’mon Logan, fuck me, please.”

Logan turns into something animalistic then— flipping you over without warning, caging you between his arms. Your gasp is audible as he yanks your wet lace to the side, before thrusting forward, and fucks his cock into you with one thrust.

“Oh my god, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—“ the feel of Logan finally inside you had you absolutely fucking drunk on the feel of him.

“Tryin’ to, baby.” He grits, arms flexing beside your head, fingers intertwining with yours as he sinks into you, inch by inch, until you were filled to the brim.

Logan’s body covers yours, lips pressing all over your shoulder blades to soothe the little whines you let out at how fucking full you felt. It’s everything you want and more— you want to memorize the feel of him, every ridge and vein as he bottoms out.

“Baby,” he grunts, fingers flexing with yours as he stays still, for your sake. “So fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ wet.”

And it was true— despite the fact that he’s huge, he slipped in easily because of the mess you created, a slick mix of your come and desire that seeps from you.

“Logan, fuck me, please.” You ask so sweetly, as if you weren’t impaled by his cock right now.

With that, he slips out of you slowly, before fucking into you hard, deep. Then, he fucking ravishes you— creating a steady, fast paced rhythm and fucking you dumb with his cock.

You’re a whiny mess. Your hair grows darker, hands glittering between his grip each time he slams into you, each time your cunt squeezes around him.

Completely cock drunk, your back arches, ass up and hips slamming back against his with your cheek pressing into the mattress as you sob.

You’re so fucking needy that his own thighs are wet with your desire— he growls at the sight, fucking you even faster.

“You’re mine. Have been since you came here.” Logan growled, releasing your fingers in favor of gripping your hair and pulling you up until you were pressed into his chest. “My fuckin’ girl.”

“Yours!” You cry, tears rolling down your face. Your entire body jolts with pleasure, and you feel like you couldn’t breathe, not with how euphoria threatens to smother you. “M’so close!”

“I know, honey, I know. Can feel you fuckin’ squeezin’ around me.“ Logan moans out, pushing you back down into the mattress and finding purchase on your hips, pulling you back hard. “Gonna come all over me?”

You don’t answer, instead crying out as you feel a sharp flash of pain on your asscheek, Logan’s hand swift and quick. The pain mixes into pleasure when he rubs at the red skin, pressing sweet kisses on your back.

He wishes you could see yourself right now; maybe then you would understand why he was so intoxicated by you.

Your pretty body is bent over, ass up and face in the sheets as whimpers seep out. The lace that drove him crazy is yanked to the side, grazing his cock each time he drove deeper inside you. You’re so beautiful like this, he wants to keep you forever.

Sweet, little ‘uh,uh’s’ fill Logan’s ears as he speeds up, pulling you back up once more against his chest. He wants to be as close as fucking possible, the feel of your skin on his almost searing.

You turn your head back, lips seeking out his own. He kisses you, sucking at your lips as he continues to fuck you vigorously.

The fluttery feeling of your cunt squeezing around him suddenly sends him over the edge— low groans falling in your open mouth as hot, searing spurts of come coat your walls.

Knowing that Logan had lost it, finally giving into the temptation like you’d been doing all night, has you whining as your own orgasm surrounds your entire being.

“Baby—“ Logan thrusts shallowly, riding your orgasms out as long as he could; if he could, he’d never leave this feeling behind. Seemingly, you agreed as your nails dig into his forearms that hold you up, eyes squeezing shut at the overpowering bliss tingling everywhere. “I got you, it’s okay.”

“Logan, fuck!” It comes out as a huff, head against his sweaty neck, body completely limp in his hold.

You’d never been so incredibly sex-dazed in your life. From this moment onward, Logan has ruined you for anyone else.

Though, you hope there isn’t anyone else.

Logan kisses your head before untangling from you; a smirk dancing across his usually gruff features at the little whine let out as he pulls out. He gently rolls you onto your back, laying your head tenderly on the pillows. It was such a stark difference to the rough way he’d fucked you minutes prior, but butterflies flutter around your stomach all the same.

You watch his eyes trail lower, landing on the mess between your thighs.

Logan is mesmerized by the sight; your pussy is destroyed , so wet with his come seeping out of your hole. Mindlessly, he lowers himself until heieye level with your sex. Sans any warning, his fingers are thrusted back inside.

He ignores your hiss in favor of trying to push his come back inside, to keep you full of him. His eyes meet yours, watching as your chest rises as you observe him. There’s a glint in your eye that has his heart stuttering.

“I want to kiss you.” You whisper, soft and a little bashful, as if he didn’t have his fingers inside you. You look too fucking perfect, hair returning to its original color, eyes cloudy with unspoken words, a smile gracing your face.

How could he deny you when you looked like that?

Logan kisses your clit once, enjoying the way you jump before removing his fingers.

With those same digits, he sticks them in his mouth, sucking the flavor of you both and humming. He could hear the way your heart picked up at his actions. He releases them with a loud ‘pop’, before finally coming back to you.

He hovers over you, and like you’d done earlier, soft hands pull at the chain until his lips melt with yours in a soft kiss. Logan pulls back, resting his head on yours, eyes connecting with yours.

“Hi.” You giggle then, nose bumping his in the proximity.

“Hi, baby.” Logan kisses your lips once more, before rolling beside you. You would’ve whined at him if it weren’t for the way he immediately pulls you onto his chest.

With your limbs tangled, a kiss pressed to your forehead, you think this could be heaven and if so, you never wanted to leave.

It was quiet for a moment— the two of you content to listen to one another’s heartbeat, the breaths that fall from lips. Then, you break the silence, because of course you do.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“Just so you know, I’m expecting you to take me out before you get me like this again.” You mutter against his slick chest, where your head rests as you wrap yourself around the man like a koala.

A deep laugh fills the room, chest rumbling because what the fuck?

He’s fucked you, with his mouth and cock, and now you’re laying on him as his come seeps out of you and you’re demanding him to take you out?

He was going to in the first place, but he thinks it’s cute you decided for him.

Logan may be a man that’s been alive for almost two centuries, practically immortal, but it’s completely possible you’ll be the death of him.

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚ fin

tags: @strangererotica @cevansbaby-dove @morganyourone @asiancupid

[coryndoll]

routledge!reader x rafe, after big john comes back and finds out that both of his kids are dating the camerons, he gets mad, especially at his daughter, cause he thought that she wasn't thinking straight. After a few days, he throws a stupid comment about rafe when they were with the rest of the pogues and reader just snaps at him. pure angst now 🥰 she realises that he's never been a good father, only caring about treasures and yells that she wishes he never came back. Then goes to rafe, crying, for comfort 💕 (i love angst im sorry.)

hold me close

rafe cameron x routledge!reader

warnings: angst, swearing, a kiss, pretty safe !!

authors note: OKAY ik thats trevor n not rafe but erm, we’ll pretend bc that pic is what gives the energy for this oneshot. anyway hii, hope u guys enjoy this one. feel free to send any requests guys! n thank u for 1k followers yesterday. ilyasm <33

you sit in the backyard, the soft hum of cicadas filling the warm night air. the pogues are just behind you, laughing and talking in a huddle. it feels good to see them like this again—normal, for once, after everything.

after the chaos of the last year, of treasure hunts, betrayals, and close calls. you’ve always tried to stay out of it, letting john b and the others chase after the gold while you lived your life. but eventually, you couldn’t stay on the sidelines, not when rafe got involved, not when it became a matter of life and death.

it’s been hard, being stuck between two sides, torn between your brother and your boyfriend. but tonight, you just want peace.

you glance over at your dad, sitting a little ways away from the group, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin on his face. big john routledge—alive, after these three years. you still can’t believe it sometimes.

he looks different, a little more worn, a little rougher around the edges, but the way he carries himself hasn’t changed. he’s still larger than life, still full of stories, still your dad. and god, you missed him.

he catches your eye, and for a moment, it’s like nothing has changed. like you’re just a kid again, sitting with your dad, listening to him talk about his crazy ideas, his wild adventures.

“you know,” he starts, leaning forward, “i remember that time you and john b tried to catch that fish out by the dock, and you both fell in. i swear, i thought i was gonna have to drag you two out myself,” he says, chuckling to himself, shaking his head like the memory is some long-lost treasure of its own.

you smile, even though it feels a little bittersweet. “yeah,” you murmur under your breath.

you pull at a piece of grass by your feet, your fingers absentmindedly tearing at it. you’ve waited so long for this moment—for him to come back, for your family to feel whole again.

but now that he’s here, you don’t know what to do with it. you can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed, that he’s not just the dad you remember, but something else entirely. still, you can’t help but feel like the little girl who always looked up to him, who wanted nothing more than to make him proud.

“i never thought we’d see you again,” you mumble, your voice low, barely above a whisper. you don’t look up from the grass, your fingers still picking at the blades, but you can feel his gaze on you.

“i never thought i’d be back either,” he admits quietly. “but i couldn’t stop thinking about you two. every day out there . . . i thought about coming home.”

you scoff softly, a bitter smile pulling at your lips, even though you don’t mean for it to. “but you didn’t,” you say, barely above a whisper. “you didn’t come back for three years.”

he shifts in his seat, his fingers tapping against the arm of the chair. “it wasn’t that simple, y/n,” he says. “i was trying to protect you. there are dangerous people out there, people who want what we’re after. i couldn’t come back until i knew it was safe.”

you nod, but it’s a hollow gesture. you’ve heard it all before from other people—the excuses, the treasure, the danger. it always comes back to that.

you glance at your friends, laughing and sharing stories with each other. you’ve spent so long trying to push this life aside, to live outside of the mess of treasure hunts and betrayals. but it always pulls you back in.

“yeah, you always did put the treasure first,” you murmur as you face forward again. you’re not even sure if you mean to say it out loud. it’s more to yourself, just a thought that’s been living in the back of your mind for too long.

“don’t do that.” he leans forward, his voice soft, almost pleading. “i did it for you and john b,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “for our family. i wanted us to have something—something big, something that would change everything.”

“yeah, but we didn’t need that,” you say, your voice small, but firm. you’re still pulling at the grass, twisting it around your fingers. “we just needed you.”

he doesn’t say anything for a moment. it’s like he’s trying to figure out what to say, but there’s nothing that can fix the years of distance. nothing that can make up for what you lost when he left.

there’s a long silence, and for a moment, you think maybe this is as close as you’ll ever get to understanding each other. you don’t want to fight tonight. you just want to sit with him, to pretend that things could go back to how they were before.

“so,” he starts again, his tone shifting back to playful, like he’s trying to lighten the mood, “you and john b teaming up with the others to chase down treasure? guess it runs in the family.”

you laugh, but it’s a little forced. “yeah, well, i tried to stay out of it. but . . .”

“but what?” he presses, leaning forward with a smirk. “got a little taste of adventure, didn’t you?”

you glance up at the marsh, a faint smile on your lips. “something like that,” you mutter.

but you don’t mention rafe, don’t mention how he’s become a part of this tangled mess, how hard it’s been being caught between him and your family. you’ve already told your dad the day you reunited a few days ago in barbados. didn’t end well that time either. you don’t want to ruin the moment, don’t want to start another fight.

but, as if the universe is reading your mind, your dad shifts the conversation in a way that makes your stomach drop. “just promise me,” he says, suddenly serious, “you won’t let that rafe cameron kid get too close. he’s no good, y/n.”

the words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you just sit there, staring at him. it takes you a second to process what he’s said, to even understand the casual way he’s dismissed rafe, like it’s nothing. like he’s nothing.

“and i hear john b’s with sarah now, too?” his tone shifts, bitter and disapproving. “so now both of my kids are wrapped up with the camerons. hell of a choice you both made.”

you freeze, your stomach tightening. there it is. you knew it was coming, but it still hits you like a punch to the gut. it’s not the first time he’s made a comment about rafe, and you thought you were doing the right thing confessing what’s changed since you last saw him, but now he’s dragging john b into it, and that makes it worse. so much worse.

“dad,” you start, trying to keep your voice steady, but there’s an edge to it, a warning. “don’t.”

he shakes his head like you’ve said something ridiculous. “no, i am gonna say something. sarah, rafe, they’re cameron’s kids. ward cameron’s kids. you’re smart enough to know better than to get mixed up with people like him. they’re bad news. always have been.”

“yeah, but they’re not like him,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. “sarah’s not ward. rafe’s not ward. they’re not their father.”

he just laughs, but there’s no humor in it. it’s harsh. “you really believe that?” he asks, shaking his head again. “they’re camerons. it’s in their blood. you think you’re any safer with rafe than you were without me here? because i’m telling you right now, you’re not.”

you stand up, your hands balled into fists at your sides. you’ve heard enough. for days now, you’ve listened to him make little digs about rafe, about the camerons, and you’ve kept your mouth shut. but tonight, it’s too much. you can’t keep it in anymore.

“three years, dad. three years you were gone, chasing your stupid treasure, while we were stuck here. john b and i had to figure it out on our own. so don’t stand there and act like you have any right to tell me who i should or shouldn’t be with.”

big john looks at you, stunned, like he’s seeing you for the first time. but you’re not done. there’s too much you’ve kept bottled up, and now it’s all spilling out.

“you care more about that gold than you ever did about us,” you say. “you care more about treasure than you do about being a father. you don’t know anything.”

big john’s face hardens, his jaw clenching as he stares at you. “i know enough,” he says, his voice cold. “i know who the camerons are.”

“yeah?” you snap, your voice breaking. “well, maybe if you’d been here, you’d actually know something about me too.”

you turn on your heel, ready to storm off, but the moment you move, you notice it.

the pogues are silent now, all of them watching. sarah, jj, pope, kie—they’re still, their conversations dropped as they stand there, wide-eyed and uneasy. john b, though, he’s just sitting there with his can of beer held low in his hands, lips pressed together. you can tell he’s heard it all before. he’s not going to step in because he knows you need to let it out.

you’re just done with it. you take a step forward, ready to leave this backyard and the suffocating tension behind. but something stops you, a feeling gnawing at your chest, pulling you back. you hesitate, turning just enough to glance at your dad over your shoulder.

he’s still staring at you, his expression set like stone, as if he’s waiting for you to say more, to take it all back, maybe. but you won’t. not now.

your voice wavers, but it’s steady enough. “i wish you never came back.”

his face doesn’t move, but something flickers in his eyes. you don’t wait for him to respond. you turn away for good this time and walk out, leaving the backyard behind.

before you know it, you’re at rafe’s house, your knuckles rapping against the door almost frantically. you pace, glancing down at your phone, watching as the notifications keep coming—texts from john b, a few from kie, and even jj. they're all asking the same thing: ‘ where are you? ’ or ‘ are you okay? ’

you drag your hand down your face, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. before you can get lost in your thoughts, the door swings open, and there he is.

rafe stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable. he leans against the doorframe for a second, his lips slightly parted, taking you in. you know he’s already pieced together what’s happened from the voice messages you left on the way over. not that he’s the type to acknowledge it with some grand gesture or comforting words.

he doesn’t say anything, but he steps aside without much ceremony. you slip past him and leave your phone in the foyer, tossing it carelessly on the side table as you pass, the pinging of messages finally fading into the background.

you make your way down the hallway, not even sure where you’re going, but your feet carry you to the living room. rafe follows close behind, his presence looming, but not overbearing. his eyes are trained on you, watching as you take in the dimly lit room. there’s a bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table, a glass next to it, already finished. it’s so rafe—quiet, controlled chaos.

you stop, your breath shaky, your chest tight, and before you can hold it back, everything comes spilling out.

“he doesn’t get it, rafe. he just doesn’t fucking get anything,” you start, your voice louder than you intend. you turn to face him, your hands gesturing wildly as you try to make sense of the mess of emotions coursing through you. “i mean, he’s been gone for years, and he comes back, and suddenly he thinks he can just . . . control everything? like he gets to have an opinion about my life after everything he’s done. he doesn't even know me anymore.”

rafes eyes are fixed on you, and he’s listening, letting you get it out. his jaw twitches slightly, but he stays silent, just watching as you unravel in front of him.

“and it’s like . . . it’s like no matter what i do, no matter how hard i try, it’s never enough! not for him, not for john b, not for anyone!” your voice cracks, and you press your palms against your temples, trying to hold yourself together, but the tears are already brimming, threatening to spill over. “i didn’t ask for any of this. i didn’t ask to be stuck in the middle of all this shit with my family and you and . . . god, it’s too much.”

you turn away from him, your breath coming out in shallow gasps now as you try to steady yourself. but it’s no use. you’re falling apart, and it feels like the weight of everything is finally crushing you.

before you can say another word, rafe steps forward, his arms sliding around you in one swift motion. “alright, alright, c’mere,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. “c’mon.”

you collapse into him, burying your face into his chest, the tears coming freely now. he holds you tight, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head as his hand rubs slow circles on your back.

rafe’s not one for words, and you don’t expect him to be, but this—this is enough. the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his arms keep you grounded, it’s enough to make the world stop spinning for just a moment.

you don’t say anything else. neither does he. the silence stretches on, but it’s not uncomfortable. for once, you feel like you can breathe.

even though he’s holding you, his mind seems elsewhere—his jaw clenched, muscles rigid beneath the surface. it’s not hard to guess where his thoughts have drifted, especially after everything you told him in those voice messages.

you can tell he’s upset. not just because you’re upset, but because of what your dad said—about him, about his family. his body is stiff as he holds you, and you know him well enough to see the silent anger simmering just beneath the surface. his eyes aren’t on you; they’re somewhere distant, staring past you as if he’s imagining your father’s words in his head.

“i’m sorry about what he said, rafe,” you whisper into his chest, feeling the way his breathing shifts, more shallow now, controlled. “he said something about sarah and john b, too.”

he doesn’t respond right away, but you feel his hand pause against your back, fingers pressing a little harder. for a moment, it feels like he might pull away, but instead, he just tightens his grip on you. his silence speaks volumes. rafe is the type to internalize everything, to let it fester until it boils over, but you can feel it now—the tension thrumming through his entire body.

“doesn’t matter,” he finally mutters, though you can tell by the way his voice is low, that it does. “it’s nothing i haven’t heard before.”

you pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him, and his eyes flick down to meet yours. they’re darker than usual, clouded with frustration, but he still tries to soften his expression for you.

“he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” you say quietly. “he doesn’t know you.”

for a moment, neither of you speaks. rafe’s hand resumes its slow, steady motion against your back, though the tension hasn’t fully left his body. you can feel the war going on inside him—the part of him that’s angry, defensive, but also the part that’s trying to be here for you, to let go of his own frustration long enough to comfort you.

“fuck him,” rafe mutters after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “he doesn’t get to talk about you like that. or me.”

there’s a dangerous edge to his voice now, but you know it’s not directed at you. he’s angry, not just at your dad, but at the situation—the impossible mess you’ve both found yourselves in, caught between your family and his.

“i don’t care what he thinks,” you murmur, holding onto him tighter. “i’m here with you. that’s all that matters.”

he doesn’t respond, but his hand moves to the back of your neck, his fingers curling gently into your hair as he exhales, long and slow, like he’s finally letting go of whatever was eating at him.

for the first time tonight, the room feels quiet as the two of you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms.

you’re gazing up into his eyes, searching for something—comfort, understanding, maybe a little reassurance. your hands find their way up his shoulders, one resting gently on his collarbone while the other slides higher, rubbing the area around his ear and jaw.

“you know that i love you,” you murmur, your voice soft but steady, as if the confession can dissolve the tension still hanging in the air.

rafe stares down at you, and in that moment, you can see everything in his eyes. he’s never loved anyone more than he loves you—the way you stood your ground against your own dad tonight, defending yourself and defending him and his family. it’s a vulnerable space, one he doesn’t often let himself occupy, but with you, it feels different.

he nods, pressing his lips together as if trying to hold back a flood of emotion. then, with a sudden urgency, he leans down and kisses you deeply. the taste of whiskey lingers on his lips. it’s a kiss that speaks of everything unspoken.

but just as quickly as it begins, he pulls away and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. you close your eyes into the gesture, feeling the warmth of his lips linger against your skin.

rafe goes back to resting his chin on your head, his breath steady as he holds you close again. you breathe in his familiar scent, a mix of sea salt and something distinctly rafe, and let the silence wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

in this moment, nothing else matters. not the fights, not your dad’s harsh words, not the stupid tangled web of family and expectations.

just you and him, together, holding onto each other for as long as you can.

[welovelouisandbucky]

You don't say it back

Summary: you prank your boyfriend by not saying "I love you" back, while he's getting late for quidditch practice.

Warnings: Fluff. Kissing (insert scandalised face) Few suggestive moments? Out of character stuff mayne? Seriously, none on this one, lol. Well, of course my writing, as usual. Not proof read.

S/n: positive criticism is appreciated as always. As well as any form of feedbacks, likes, comments or rebloggs. And be kind you guys, this is a safe place for everyone. Enjoy!!

Masterlist

Mattheo Riddle (with Hufflepuff!reader)

It was stupid and ridiculous.

You were just curious of his reaction, that is all.

You heard your friends' talking about doing this to their boyfriends for shits and giggles. At first, you hated the idea of tormenting your significant other for fun, then curiosity consumed your mind for weeks.

Now it seemed like a fun idea to prank your boyfriend, Mattheo Riddle.

You thought it was a perfect way to get back at your boyfriend for teasing you last week in The Great Hall. In your mind it was the perfect revenge.

So you made up your mind to put it into action as soon as you had the chance. Which was now, at his dorm room while he was about to leave for Quidditch practice with Theo.

You were excited as well as anxious for his reaction. Anticipation has been eating away your brain for days now and you were finally going to do it.

Mattheo came up to you and kissed your forehead as you remained sitted on his bed, with your books all splattered around before you.

"gimme a kiss, will you?" He grinned down at you, ignoring annoyed and impatient Theo by the door, who was urging him to hurry up as they were already late.

Smiling, you complied to his wish and kissed him. Without meaning to, you deepen the kiss, clinging onto him as if he's your life support, suddenly not feeling ready to send him off just yet. He seems to think the same way as he holds onto you tighter, kissing you more intensely, cupping your face with his one hand as the other roams down. You almost moan into his mouth when you hear someone gag.

"oi! Stop snogging her and hurry up!" Theo called, tapping his foot impatiently. Matthew rolled his eyes and winked at you before stepping back.

"'ight, love. We'll finish this later, yeah?" Mattheo smirked when you blushed under his gaze. He loves how's you blush at his every word, one of the reasons why he teases you a lot.

"Love you!" He said as he was about to leave with Theo. You just smiled and waved at the both of them. Physically restraining yourself from saying it back, you almost did, but you are glad you didn't as he stopped abruptly.

He looks back at you, expectedly.

You all but smiled up at him innocently. Your eyes never once betraying the guilt you are feeling inside, you just now realised how bad of a timing this is to do this prank, when he's clearly beyond late for his practice. Though, it's too late to go back now.

He clears his throat.

"uh, love? Aren't ya forgetting something?" He asks, his one brow raised in accusing manner. Mattheo steps inside the room again, completely ignoring the loud groan of his best mate ( who looks ready to hit Mattheo with his broomstick any second now ).

You don't reply, just look in his way with furrowed brows, feigning false confusion, which you can tell Mattheo saw right through.

"don't think so, no," you say. You pretend to think over it for couple of minutes before shrugging your head no. Mattheo huffs and rolls his eyes at you. Almost annoyed with you, as you're purposefully making him even more late to his practice.

"c'mon now, princess. Don't play stupid with me," he says impatiently. Not wanting make his team wait any longer on his account, just wanting to get over with that thing as soon as possible so he can come back and spend time with you again. But he can't do that unless he leaves and he's not leaving until you say "I love you" back, but judging by the look on your face, he knows he's not leaving any time soon.

"oh yeaahhhh, sorry, baby!" You giggle. And he smiles, thinking you finally got what he was saying.

"I forgot to wish you luck! Well, good luck with your practice, and have fun!" You tell him affectionately, your voice sugary sweet. You waved him bye again and blowed him a kiss.

Mattheo's hopeful expression falls, so does your heart.

"Y/n," he says, there's an edge to his voice, as well as a slight hint of hurt. Your heart breaks a little inside, regretting your stupid prank now as you look at him. He's standing in middle of the room, in his quidditch robes with his broomstick clutched tightly, his puppy brown eyes looking alarmingly sad.

You know how hard it was for him to express his feelings openly, it is still a struggle for him to express his emotions sometimes, you help him best as you can. And you're really proud of him, for how far along he had come since when you first met him. You curse at yourself mentally, just realising how stupid of an idea this was to began with.

"oh Mattheo," you softly say and go over to him. Wrapping your arms around him and he instantly holds you closer to him, you kiss him tenderly all over his face. "I'm so, so sorry, baby. I thought—i well, doesn't matter now. It was stupid anyways, I'm sorry. I love you." You say against his skin, feeling him tightening his hold, nudging his face deeper into your hair. You heard him sigh of relief, and relax into him.

"sorry, Mattheo. Please forgive me?" You ask, pulling back just a little to look at his face. He gives you one of his smiles which tells you're forgiven, you almost melt into a puddle at that.

"don't. ever. do that again, yeah?" He mumbles before kissing you. He doesn't have to tell you that anyway, since you're never attempting something like this ever again.

He leaves ghostly kisses against your skin, traveling from your lips to sensitive skin under your ear. His hand sliding down to your back, as you lock your arms around his neck.

"don't think you can get away with this so easily, love. We'll see about that forgiveness once I'm back from practice." He whispers darkly, and with one firm pat to your bum, he begins to leave once Theo clears his throat. Making his presence known, which you seemed to forget about completely.

"love you," he smirks your way before leaving with Theo, who looks as if he wants to dig himself into hole and never comeback, ever again.

You try to reply, but no words come out. Suddenly breathless.

You watch him leave with newfound excitement and anticipation burning through your body.

Maybe you're not forgiven afterall.

(divider credits to the rightful owner @rypnami 🙏🏼)

A/n: annnnnnddddd I'm back!!!!! So sorry for disappearing again😭 I have some ideas that I'm currently working on, so hopefully I'll be able to post more content soon!! Yay!

And don't forget to comment or reblog.

Hope you enjoyed reading. Have a nice day!!!

Requests are open.

[sharkylass]

ALRIGHT, I ASKED FOREVER AGO, BUT WHO WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT MY ISA LOOPS AU??

Heads up this contains a lot, and I mean A LOT of spoilers for In Stars And Time. Including: = Act 6 spoilers, including main mystery and secret encounter = Minimal Act 5 stuff = And a bunch of extra stuff that happens through Act 3 and 4. SO BASICALLY ALMOST EVERYTHING, FINISH THIS GAME COMPLETELY BEFORE READING (ESPECIALLY THAT ACT 6 ENCOUNTER, IT WILL LITERALLY BE THE FIRST THING I MENTION UNDER THE CUT)

With all those warnings out of the way-

IN REPETITION AND CHANGE

Initial Concepts:

I feel it's important to show these sketches because they were the first ideas I ever had. I wasn't even entirely sure I wanted to make an AU at this point, I didn't even know how I'd approach it. But I started sketching and it's been on my mind since- SO! Isa is stuck in the timeloop. I know what his wish is and he DOES have a Loop equivalent! The grumpy dandelion guy is Roboro (it/they/he). Their name is a very small play on Ouroboros and they call Isa "Seedling". However, this post is not about them, as I'm gonna talk about it and Isa's dynamic in a separate post. In short, Isa is his normal loud self up until Act 3, right? They beat the King, they reach the end, and whoops, the loop isn't broken. So now, what happens is that Isa starts getting his brains out. He starts thinking more analytically and tries to problem solve.

The more stuck he gets in his head, the less he's able to perceive his friends as real people, and more like them holding him back. Because even if Isa explains that he's smart, that they shouldn't be surprised if he says something, shock of all shocks, reasonable- They'll forget it the next loop.

So Isa is stuck with trying to portray his confident, loud, supportive facade- Which is fine! It wouldn't be the first time! But it progressively gets more and more frustrating, as he tries to find answers and simply looses the energy to pretend to be stupid.

TL;DR: Isa in the timeloop, unlike Siffrin, becomes more distant and cold rather then something more akin to Sif's mania.

NOW, MORE ART!!!

KILL KILL KILL:

I imagine Isa didn't have this encounter the same way that Sif did. Yeah, frankly, Isa is pissed with the sadness- But that's not why he goes through with this.

In this moment, Isa is trying to kill two birds with one stone. He's trying to get through this quickly, as well as reassure Mira that they can do this! If he shows how strong he is, then she'll feel safe right???

Poor Isabeau forgot that whenever he shows that he thinks ahead, he scares people. How could he forget that? How could he forget that he's inherently---

Family Quest:

I still think Odile is the one to call out to him (same with sus quest).

The hangouts I'm still figuring out, cause I don't think they'd too similar to base game- But, fun fact, at the end of this run, everyone agrees to keep travel together!

Isabeau brings it up, can't hurt if you can fix your mistakes right? And everyone agrees. The relief on Siffrin is the most palpable thing Isabeau has ever seen.

In this moment they love you. In this moment they all love you. In this moment---

Death Screen:

He loops back anyways. (This is one of the initial concepts that I ended up animating. This line in particular is when he reaches the end)

Act 5 Tarot Card:

NOW TO SEE MORE OF HIS PASSIVE AGRESSIVE SIDE

Thanks to @the-bitter-ocean for prescribing tarot cards to Isa (THEY ALL FUCK SO HARD) and for the RAW ASS LINE

If interacted with in act 5, predictably, Isa tears it apart. He doesn't need the divine judgement upon him, he's faced everyone's perception his entire life.

However, he tears it methodically. Tears it once in even pieces, twice, three times, and one of the pieces once more. In a way he isn't even getting his emotions out, it's like he's actively trying to tear it apart so it stops nagging him, like he wants to shut it up. Though, the Judgement card symbolizes rebirth, absolution and inner calling. In Act 6 he'd be able to look at it and find comfort and confidence in the card.

Act 5 Mirror:

And lastly, I have the Act 5 mirror picture. I haven't quite figured out how to make the normal ones work yet, however, I couldn't let go of the idea that Isa would not want to be in the picture.

The idea of seeing himself at all makes his head hurt and his stomach squeeze. The memory haunts him as he stands to the side and says the word. He didn't think the mirror would catch him.

AAAAND THAT'S ALL THE ART STUFF FOR NOW!!

I still have quite a bit of it to post, especially about Roboro, but I'm gonna leave it here for now.

I still gotta figure out the hangouts and potentially the dagger equivalent- but I have ideas for Bad Touch, the glass equivalent, and some extra little things that didn't happen in Siffrin's loops.

I needed to yap about this, because I've been slowly stacking up ideas and writing and I needed to share it at some point- If anyone read all this and has questions and stuff I fully welcome 'em!!