#I know... two? one for sure and one I'm p sure is

[coldlovehotblood]

Heyyy, i LOVED your writing so if possible, could you write a Izzy x rockstar! reader where the reader is the frontwoman of an all girl band, and she's like, a femme fatale yk those vibes

Izzy/ gnr and her/ her band have know each other for about 1 year, but these two are like, OBSSESSED with each other so so in love but they prefer to just keep flirting subtly and blah blah blah until in her birthday, they have their first time (finally)

Ma'am I'M BEGGING for some filthy eye rolling juicy smut (only if you're comfortable ofc) and some fluff to keep the balance hihi 🧘‍♀️

˗ˏˋ✩ˎˊ˗

PRETTY TIED UP (p.1)

the persona you’d created as front woman of a major band comes crashing down. strong liquor paired with your hungry heart lead you to places you thought never possible: the other side of your crushes bed.

w/c: 3,205

warnings: steven is a little shit, alcohol consumption

a/n: so umm.. *gulps* hello anon from december! this spiralled completely out of control and somehow ended up so big it needs to be split into two parts. life, writers block and working on too many things at once have all been eating at me. sorry for the wait. i hope it was worth it😇 big thank you to @rocknrolldecadence for being a star as always

dividers by @/strangergraphics

Your manager threw open the door and launched a folded magazine at you with a growl.

“When will you lot be done with this heartthrob bullshit?! You know, I can’t clean up for your asses forever.”

You grimaced as he paced (read: stomped) back and forth by the doorway of the dressing room your group had been given. It felt as if someone was chipping at your skull with a chisel, and the addition of your manager’s huffing and puffing wasn't helping to ease the harsh thump between your temples. 

The poor makeup artist's hand started to tremble slightly above your bandmate's brow at the sight of the man’s agitation. You couldn't really blame them. He was intimidating. It took years to become used to seeing how easily he flew off the handle, and a couple more to realise that it was all in good faith. He was tall and brawny, made of sharp edges and biting words, seemingly built for battle and not spitting through phone receivers for the majority of the day. There was this eternal furrow to his brow that made him look as if he was glaring at every person he met, and honestly, he probably was.

“Quit your whining. You read the job description years ago.”

“Yeah, well nowhere did it say ‘convincing the media every story they catch wind of is fake news’ would be on the daily agenda.”

Your drummer groaned and reached to grab a water bottle from the floor, voice snarky as she commented, “Read the fine print next time, then.”

“You shut up,” he snarled through his teeth, jabbing a finger in her direction as she rolled her eyes, “because I'm not just talking to miss centre stage here. All of you need to be a bit more careful about where you show your faces and who you hang around. I’m only after seeing this headline, and I swear to God, if even one word of it is true, I am disbanding you.”

“Sure you will,” you yawned, reaching for the magazine that had landed beside you.

'ROMANCING ROCK STARS REUNITE: Pour Femme members photographed once again sharing drinks with rock and roll powerhouse Guns n’ Roses, further feeding fan theories of unspoken courtship. Read more on page 5!'

“Ooh, what have they said about us this time?” your bass player wiggled a bit in excitement from the other side of the sofa, “Did they get my good side?”

You flicked through to page five and turned it in her direction. Some other members craned their necks to have a peek too.

“See, this is why I don't mind that magazine. I look great—”

“It doesn't matter how you look! It's your other image I'm worried—” he sharply exhaled, pinching his nose bridge to centre himself before continuing, “What I'm getting at is that we've been through why you shouldn't be seen with some other artists in public, especially those guys. If you had even an ounce of common sense, you wouldn’t have to put up with me giving you an earful every minute!”

You gazed down at the spread. Your bandmate was right, she looked amazing. You all did in the low light of the Whisky A Go Go, smiling and laughing. Your lead guitarist was leaning over the table to pour another round of whiskey into everyone's glasses, beaming wide at something, if you remembered correctly, Duff had said. Slash was leaning in towards your drummer’s ear, probably shouting over the electric buzz of screaming people and loud live music. It had been a good night out. You smiled, recalling the trek home being full of cheers and laughter.

That smile dropped as soon as you spied yourself. Your glass was raised to your lips, eyes cast to the other end of the table. No, towards Izzy Stradlin.

In the previous year, you and your band met Guns n’ Roses at an award show. The interaction caught the eye of the public, as you couldn't turn the radio on without hearing the gritty drone of electric guitar from one of Pour Femme’s hit songs or really any GNR song at least once. The two were big names, so of course, fans went bonkers when they saw their favourite bands conversing.

You admired GNR. They were great, their music was phenomenal, and you had to admit, all of them were handsome as well, but someone that you couldn't seem to stop thinking about was Izzy fucking Stradlin. You loathed that fact.

You hadn't really spoken to him that night, and in general, very few words had ever been shared. But there was no need for them, for the tension that hung thick like smoke when you shared a room said enough. He was alluring in every sense of the word. You wanted to know more, but he never gave you the chance. In fairness, you didn't give him one either…

Look, you pranced around the idea of having a proper conversation with him because you had a reputation to uphold. You earned the title of notorious heartbreaker many magazine issues ago, and fans went insane for it. You were keeping up an image, and clearly, nothing ever stays private when you live in LA.

You closed the spread up hastily, pages warping at the sides from how tight your grip had become, and dropped it beside you, reaching for your temples instead. You’d had enough of thinking about him. The focus should've been on the performance just minutes away, and your birthday the day after. It was supposed to be a good day. You weren't about to let yourself ruin it by thinking about something so trivial. He was good-looking, yes, but there was a time and a place to be admiring him that wasn't in the dressing room before going on stage. 

Some small, needy thing in your brain called out to you ‘Would there ever be a time when you'd let yourself truly look at him?’

One of the stage crew peeped their head around the door frame to give a five-minute call. You heaved a sigh and pushed yourself up off of the sofa. You’d settled on thinking about it later.

The next day, your bandmates woke you up with a shout, jumping on your bed and singing silly, screechy versions of ‘Happy Birthday’.

You don’t know when it happened, but you got to an age where you didn’t see a point in doing anything on your birthday. It was a great excuse to eat a little more unhealthy than usual and go easier on yourself, but you saw no reason for extravagant celebrations.

“Fuck off,” you mumbled, pulling your quilt up over your head.

“It's your birthday and you're acting like a grump?! Booo!” your bassist teased from your bedside as they shook you back and forth.

“Get up! I didn’t make a cake this morning for you to not even look near it,” a voice called firmly from the doorway and you made your displeasure known with an overdramatic groan, muffled by the covers.

“Come on! We have a couple of things to do before tonight so get your ass up!”

Someone pulled the covers fully down and you blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden burst of light. “What’s happening tonight?”

“Obviously we’re all going out. I refuse to let you sit in this apartment and be all sad about getting older like last year. No chance.”

Of course, it was your guitarist who was taking charge of this assault. You knew how stubborn she could be, and therefore simply did as you were told, slipping out of bed and wandering to the kitchen with the rest of them trailing you like ducklings. You wanted to be mad at all three members for ganging up on you, but you couldn't find it within you to keep up the irritated furrow in your brow. It was nice to know they cared and wanted to see you happy, and they looked so pleased with themselves when you lit up at the sight of the cake, squealing and nudging each other excitedly. How were you ever supposed to be firm when they had such good intentions?

The three of them took you to lunch, afterwards tugging you in and out of an absurd amount of shops, telling you to choose something and insisting they would pay. You ended up back at the apartment with more bags than reasonable. They were having none of it when you started to argue that all of the presents were entirely too much, instead pushing you into a chair and playing dress-up, adding to your makeup, doing your hair and making you model all the clothes they’d bought you.

One thing you had managed to stand firm on saying no to that day was going to a club. They had wanted so desperately to bring you to one, begging with big, sparkly puppy eyes.

“Come on!” your bassist pleaded, actually clasping her hands together and leaning your way, sweetening her voice the best she could, “It’ll be so good. We promise to go easy on the booze–”

“Uhh no? That's the point–” your drummer was silenced by an elbow to the ribs.

“We promise to keep it light until we’re home again.”

You shook your head at the two, a smile creeping onto your face against your will.

“It would be fun to go to one. I know she was talking about going to the Whiskey tonight,” you jerked your head towards your guitarist who was rifling through every item of clothing you owned, “But I just don't think I would enjoy myself. I want to have fun with you all, but where can we have fun without the media breathing down our necks and watching every move we make?”

“I mean,” your bandmate spoke with a raised voice, knowing the sound would be slightly dampened by her position. She was basically downing in clothes at that point, “we could always go to The Cathouse.”

“Yeah, sure, let’s go to another habitat of GNR’s. Our manager would rip us a new one.”

“No, that's actually a good idea. I like it in there.”

“What?! You’ll go to The Cathouse but not The Whisky?”

You shrugged your shoulders before simply replying, “Apparently the Whiskey can't be trusted. That spread had a great picture of us, but it’s proof we’ll get no privacy.”

Just then, your phone rang, buzzing against the vanity you sat beside. You picked up and were met with your manager's gruff voice.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, but I'd like to think I know you a bit better than that,” you spoke, admiring your bandmates' artistic skills in the mirror as you did, “What's wrong?”

He had his moments in which his well hidden soft spot for you all shone clear as day, but he never called just to say nice things.

“You lot better behave yourselves tonight. If I wake up tomorrow to your faces all over the news or on the front page of another magazine for the wrong reasons–”

“I’ve told them already to be sensible. We’ll be fine.”

“Who is that?” your drummer questioned leaning closer to hear the voice coming through.

“Our dear manager telling us to behave.”

“Oh for fuck sake! Get off our backs and mind your own business!” your guitarist yelled, coming towards you with an outfit in hand and signalling for you to give her the phone. You traded items. She leaned against the vanity and sighed deeply in annoyance. Even from a slight distance, you heard your manager's static voice ring loud and clear.

“Shut up you!” he bellowed back, loud enough your guitarist flinched slightly and had to pull the phone further from her ear, “You all need to start listening to me! Some of these days, one of you is going to get into bother for one reason or another. I will not take any shit from anyone on that fateful day because I have done nothing but try and keep you all on the straight and narrow–”

“Yap, yap, yap! Go jerk off or something!”

She quickly hung up as his outraged roars became deafening, putting your phone back in its original position.

“Put this on and then we’re leaving.”

It was relatively quiet as the four of you walked in, expected for a random Wednesday night. You may have been a bit overdressed for a mostly empty bar, but getting ready was half the fun. It was worth it when you were able to strut through the entrance knowing you looked hot. The outfit your bandmate put together, highlighting your best features. The makeup another had carefully done for you, making you look striking. Head-turning even. Dressed up, you felt confident. That was all that mattered.

You all filed in one after the other, talking and laughing as you went, but the smile on your face dropped when you saw who was sitting at the bar, sporting a brilliant grin of his own and tilting his head back to swallow the rest of his drink. You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat, watched as his dark hair fell back around his face once upright again, unaware of your group, instead focused on something his own bandmate, whom you recognised as Steven, had said.

The night suddenly didn’t look so fun anymore, and it hadn't even started yet. You did not expect them to be there. It was an odd night in the week to be out drinking in a bar. Why on earth would they be out having drinks?! It was only three of them sitting there on the bar stools: Steven, Axl and him, but two of their unit missing didn’t make you feel any better about it. You might not have even minded it, but Izzy's presence made you unsure, a nervous shiver making its way through you.

There was a reason you kept yourself a distance away from him. You knew that if you got to know him properly, you'd end up in it too deep because you found him devastatingly attractive. From the shape of his lips to the way he carried himself, he was flawless in your eyes.

You longed to chat casually over a drink or two. You longed to charm him a bit and see how, if he was even interested, he'd reciprocate that curious flirting. But you felt like you had to stay away as you feared both of your reputations. Celebrities dating was nothing new, but when things went south it left a bruise on each of their images.

At the height of Pour Femme and Guns n’ Roses’ careers, that was a far from ideal situation.

Your bassist noticed how your steps had become hesitant, leaving you half-hidden behind the other two. She asked if you were okay, eyes worried. You looked at her, bit your lip and looked back to the three men sitting at the bar. She followed your gaze and sighed when she realised, slowing a tad to match you as your other two bandmates walked on. They either didn’t notice or just didn’t care, too engrossed in an argument over something no doubt ridiculous. Your drummer's eyebrows only ever furrowed like that if they were trying to explain something, which was not an area they excelled in.

“Ignore them,” your bassist whispered, leaning very slightly towards your ear.

“I love you, but that might be one of the stupidest things to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Okay fair. But look,” she said your name gently, “You can't run from him forever. I get why you are doing this, but… why not loosen up a bit? Just for tonight.”

Your face twisted up against your will and she playfully pushed your shoulder with her own.

“Come on. There's no media here, you look smoking and it's your birthday. You should be allowed to have a bit of fun on your birthday of all days.”

You considered her words. Maybe you were a bit too cautious when it came to him, but so what? You had good reason to be! Although your worries were justified, she made a good point. You should've been allowed this at least. If you weren't going to get shitfaced, you'd let yourself have that wiggle room.

Just for the night.

You sharply inhaled through your nose and straightened your back, looking your bandmate dead in the eyes and nodded. She let out a quiet squeal and threw an arm over your shoulders, tugging you in for a side-hug.

“Go get 'em girl!”

You rolled your eyes and walked towards the bar, stride more sure than before. If you were going to do it, you needed something in your system.

Your two other bandmates had already taken their seats, of course, sitting right beside the three men your gut screamed at you not to look near for even a second, so you didn’t, instead going to the free seat right beside Izzy at the other end of the bar and ordering yourself something strong.

You were shuffling your stool in when you heard his voice.

“Brave choice for your first drink.”

“Well, you’ll get nowhere without bravery.”

He hummed and a beat passed before he spoke again, “Who taught you that?”

“No one. I learnt it with time.”

“Interesting.”

Your drink was placed in front of you and you thanked the bartender, winking at them.

“I don't think I've ever properly introduced myself, but I also don't think I need an introduction.”

“Cocky,” you said with a smirk, raising your glass to your lips and taking a swig, ”I assume I don't need one either.”

He said your name. You’d imagined him doing this, shaping his mouth to fit around the word, low timbre making it sound almost like a purr, but your imagination did a poor job at doing the real thing justice. You liked how it sounded coming from his lips. Very much so.

“Of course, I know you. Those magazine journalists can't seem to keep your name out of their mouths. They say a lot about you, you know.”

“I'm aware.”

You felt him looking at you before spying him doing so from the corner of your eye, observing you as you studied the liquor bottles lining the wall behind the bar. You waited for the prickling sensation like insects burrowing under your skin that often came with unexpected eyes, but it never came. His gaze didnt feel as… intense as you imagined it'd be. Actually, it felt good. You liked knowing he was taking a somewhat interest in you. It was exciting.

“Magazines talk a lot of shit,” he started suddenly, and you giggled.

“Tell me something I don't know.”

“It’s unbelievable the amount they've spewed, and yet, after all of those paragraphs, I still don't really know anything about you.”

“Well then. Here’s your chance to shoot,” you said quietly, looking him straight in the eyes as you went for another sip of your drink, an easy grin still on your lips despite the sweat gathering in your palms. He mirrored your expression.

part 2 coming soon…

[galaxybean]

thinking about aromanticism

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 24 thoughts:

. . . fucking . . . fuck. Just . . . fuck. Fucking fucky fucking FUCK, THAT WAS SO BADASS!!!!!

ALL OF IT HOLY SHIT I DON'T CARE, JUST PICK ANY MOMENT!! EVERYTHING EVERYONE DID WAS BADASS!

LIKE. FUCK. COLIN GOT TO LOOK BADASS.

He even got "yelling in caps" badass. Just for the one scene when he picked up Chevy. He did one fucking thing right, which was help someone up and then let THEM be cool.

And speaking of . . . HOLY FUCKING SHIT CHEVY! YOU DIDN'T GET KILLED BY TIME TRAVEL CHAD!

WHICH MEANS I DON'T HATE YOU ANYMORE!

WHICH MEANS I CAN SHOUT ABOUT HOW BADASS THAT WAS!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fuck waiting for my interlude section to talk about this. That final scene with Behemoth was one of the most visually badass things I have ever read in my life! Fuck. I get fucking chills just thinking about it.

I can see that entire last fight in my head very clearly, almost like remembering an anime scene. Perfectly written.

And Regent! Look at you go, that's character growth!

I mean sure, you died. But growth!

Besides, you dying legit made Imp cooler. She was already great but "I'm going to fucking kill his dad for him" is even better! And Wanton's apparently got jokes so we still have a funny guy.

Basically if someone had to die I'm happy it was you. Sorry not sorry.

ALSO FOIL WHAT THE FUCK YOUR POWER COULD ALWAYS DO THAT AND YOU'VE JUST BEEN SITTING THERE SHOOTING THINGS?

I . . . I just . . . girl! How?? You could literally have turned a piece of rebar into a sword that Alexandria could have cut Leviathan in half with! And that's just what I thought of in the first few seconds after seeing this! Spend some time actually thinking about what you can do lady!

But luckily my daughter is here to do the thinking, and be FUCKING AMAZING AT IT!!!

LIKE HOLY SHIT TAYLOR, YOU CUT OFF BEHEMOTH'S LEG!

AND THAT PLAN HOLY SHIT! YOU MADE A PLAN THAT SET RACHEL UP TO BE THE BADASS HERO WHO CUTS OFF BEHEMOTH'S LEG, AND SETUP REALLY POWERFUL HEROES AS HER SUPPORT!

Fuck half of Eidolon's fucking job was "Catch my girlfriend and fly her back to me."

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOLFSPIDER WOLFSPIDER WOLFSPIDER!!!!!!

And the snuggling at the end, as they were leaving!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh my god and the lightning rod! That was insane!

Golem just has really cool powers. Glad Theo is doing ok.

And Alexandria's power preserves the body so Pretender can just puppet her. That's wild. Kinda annoying, my daughter just killed her!

And and and Taylor talked with Contessa!

AND CONTESSA SHARED HER POWER!!!

I was pretty close, didn't have it that specific, but basically was expecting something similar. Fuuuuck it's so cool!

Also the underground cities and the secret capes were wild. Kinda unfortunate that you guys set things up for Behemoth to be able to collapse the entire city, gave him lots of existing tunnels and such to work with.

My daughter could have done a little less bonding with Phir Sē. Ideally. Would have made me feel a little better.

But holy shit a time portal bomb made of looped light?? GOD DAMN. That sure hit like a truck. Just not a big enough truck.

Also Grace and Cuff are dating. I don't make the rules I just enforce them.

And the rules are "make it gay"

God and the whole "thinkers stuck on a roof" bit. Christ that was planned badly. They almost died because nobody had some rope. Embarrassing.

I'm glad Tattletale is doing ok. She got her girlfriend to steal a dudes phone for her, which was pretty funny. And I loved how she still got to do her big reveal to Chevy, she needs that.

HOLY SHIT AND TAYLOR TELLING RACHEL HOW TO TAKE CARE OF IMP?? SHE UNDERSTANDS HER GIRLFRIEND. GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY GAAAAAAYYY!

And fuckin Tecton just trying so hard to do the same thing with Rachel first and just failing so completely. And then trying again. And again. Bless his big himbo heart he's trying.

Fuck there's so much, I'm sure I'm missing a dozen other things. Every chapter had 20 moments I could mention.

Seriously though, sucks for New Delhi. "There’s nothing left to protect here" is a heck of a line and it is not what anyone wants to hear.

Chevy interlude (the rest of it) thoughts:

Holy shit Chevy's shadows! I wish he had described more of them, I wanted to know everyone's image! Just so much data there.

Fun to see the early Wards. Fun to see that Colin was always like that.

Hero's death was absolutely a targeted hit, he started asking too many questions, pushing back on things.

Chevy's whole power is just really fascinating. Really interesting to think about.

RIP Mouse Protector

Also the fact that her shadow was her laughing makes me think she might have lost the ability to be sad when she triggered, which is unfortunate if true. I mean Bonesaw got you either way so I guess it doesn't matter now.

Loved getting a wonderful list of Endbringer attacks. Sure it still wasn't all of them, but up through Simmy showing up is still pretty great.

Extremely curious about Mr. Keene, keeping an eye out for more info on him.

Tattletale just needed this poor man to read her texts and let her do her fucking THING! It's all she wants.

Anyway ya turns out powers (except Scion of course) can't touch the actual core of the Endbringers and I'm like 95% sure I have a good idea as to why it works like that, but still got a little bit of that uncertainty.

Endbringers are directly related to Eidolon in some way, I am pretty sure of that. Created by him. Previous bodies. Sentient poop for all I know! They're connected though.

HOLY SHIT WHEN HE SEES TAYLOR'S SHADOW DURING THE FINAL FIGHT!!!!! AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! SHE LOOKED SO BADASS!!!!

Aftermath interlude thoughts:

Pretender and Satyr are so gay. That one's easy I don't even gotta try.

Everyone just starting to freak out about how things are gonna escalate instead of just celebrating the win is really unfortunate.

I mean, they aren't wrong. Another Endbringer is gonna come. But it would be nice if they could live in happy ignorance for a few days.

I'm guessing it'll either be two Endbringers that always attack at the same time or one Endbringer that uses teleportation to swap to a different city after a certain period of time. In either case basically fucking up the organized response ability.

Already mentioned this, but Rachel and Taylor fell asleep on each other!!!! GGGGAAAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!

If Dragon comes back wrong I'm putting all of the blame on Colin.

Fucking Danny just fucked that phone call up so bad. This man can not get it fucking right. FUCK.

GLENN YOU FUCKING FUCK I DON'T CARE WHAT YOUR REASONS ARE YOU DON'T PUT SOMEONES PRIVATE VIDEO THEY TOOK FOR THERAPY ON THE INTERNET!!

AND YOU NEVER EVEN FUCKING SAID "SORRY"!!!!! YOU EXPLAINED YOUR ACTIONS AND WHY YOU HAD TO DO IT EVEN THOUGH IT WOULD HURT HER AND YOU COULDN'T ASK HER CAUSE SHE WOULD HAVE SAID NO BUT YOU NEVER EVEN SAID SORRY!!!

Like for real. Taylor says "You could have asked" and you respond with "You would have said no." Fuck at least just say sorry!

[moe-broey]

I. Did not achieve a lot today (understandable considering the circumstances), but. You need to See.

The SADDEST. SOGGIEST. Sharena I have EVER drawn.

Also maybe a little snippet as a treat...

You'll have to fight my messy roughs and handwriting for it though 😤😤😤

[hilacopter]

guys sonic 3 was kinda bad

[arctic-hands]

The subject came up today and I can't decide so I'm throwing it out there because I don't give a fuck and also having survived all of this kinda makes me sound like a badass

[starsonmarsy]

i wish i had more friends that lived near me

my irl besties from high school are like impossible to reach most of the time

[addictsitter]

remember when rachel and puck sang "need you now" and proved they were, in fact, fantastic duet partners and the writers said it was only for rachel to make finn jealous

excuse u do u see those fucking faces

[silverselfshippingchaos]

pspspsps v.ivian pspsps

[todayisafridaynight]

Sorry for ruining your posting kfjdj I also didn't know such a person existed but I ended up finding the post where they defended him because it was the same one in which they said they hated Park cos she was abusive and manipulative to Haruka 😭😭 like. The dissonance between what they can't accept and what they CAN just cos they find a guy hot really gets me

OH NO YOU'RE GOOD THE TIMING WAS JUST REALLY FUNNY the halo effect and misogyny can hold grimy ugly hands unfortunately

oh damn i aint readin all that. i skimmed it just for you but if i read it any more i was gonna feel my eyebrows merge as i pinched them together perplexed

[sepiasys]

I CAN DO THE TRAINING THINGY THAT'LL HELP ME WITH GETTING A JOB POG

I got the text when I was at the food bank so I had to suppress my excitement lmao so it's like. Dampened. BUT!!! I am SO HAPPY ABT THIS

Only concern is making it there on time which I should be good on (I've been waking up rlly early (after 5 hours of sleep) often recently so I hope I'm gonna be ok, but I try and sleep 8hrs in advance anyways)

Thank god 🙏

OH YA I GOTTA CALL MY RELATIVE ABT THE THINGY AKDNSBDN I do have a rough amount in mind and I do the classic estimate up so there's room for error (joke about 1+1=2, but lets say it's 3 to be safe) so that's what I gotta explain

I'M STILL SO HAPPY THAT I CAN DO THE THINGY FOR THE LIKE 6 WEEKS IT LASTS BC I RLLY NEED THE SKILLS I NEED THE TRAINING AND IT WOULD MAKE ME FEEL MARGINALLY MORE COMFORTABLE WITH GETTING A JOB LIKE THAT

Also I feel so fulfilled when I volunteer, I did it yesterday and it went past when the place closed (which is fine bc the place is great and chill and I had assistance and it was easy on my body) by the time we finished

AAAAAA ALSO I GOT FOOD LIKE. I'm planning or atleast hoping to make spaghetti!!! We already has the pasta, and I got tomatoes (they didnt have any the last time I went) AND ALSO THE MILK AND SOME STUFF SHOULD LAST LONGER WHICH MAKES ME SO GLAD I WENT ON FRIDAY BC TUESDAY HAD STUFF THAT WAS. LIKE EXPIREING THAT DAY. I ALSO HAVE BREAD SO LIKE WE CAN MAKE SANDWICHES OR LIKE OTHER THINGS Coulda gotten pizza dough but we don't have anything to make pizza so I left it for others who could :3

ALSO GOT PEPPERS SO LIKE THAT FEELS SO MUCH MORE FAMILIAR

ALSO I RLLY DO WANNA TRY AND MAKE A STEW

ALSO I SWEAR I'M GONNA MAKE SMTH WITH THE POTATOES THIS TIME LMAO

[autumnrory]

i went ahead and put my newer books in their respective places as well so now the dvds are kind of ruined but they already had to be stacked anyway and i KNOW there are books on my shelf i won't want anymore once i reread them it's just a matter of doing it

but yeah my collection has grown quite a bit between enjoying the shopaholic and shadow and bone series and then filling in everything i was missing in just a couple years plus other random books here and there like i WILL get it down (the dream would be just for a time to have everything on my one big shelf but ya know who can say if that's feasible) but yeah right now between presents and book fairs or just getting things for myself it's definitely increased a lot in a pretty short amount of time

[tapakah0]

HELPPP

Part 5 :]

Oscar got into space the only way reasonably available to him - put all his money in a stack, and then climbed on it until he reached earth orbit

Previous

Masterpost

[keeps-ache]

ooo that's minty babyyy

[celiababy]

Ain't Right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You have a major (borderline obsessive) crush on Joel, and you're on a mission to fuck him.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, cum eating, name calling, kinda mean Joel, alcohol, vomiting, an extremely brief mention of suicide

Disclaimer: I lowkey don't know the logistics of the show so if some things are wrong please look over it I'm just trying to write smut about Joel Miller godbless.

Ain't Right part 2

Ever since that tortured old man showed up in Jackson, your life hasn't been the same.

Tommy's older brother, and your absolute undoing.

When Joel Miller rode into town, it was like everything suddenly made sense. The skies got clearer, the air smelled better, and the birds even chirped their love songs louder.

Everything about him drew you in; his cold demeanor, stoic face, tired eyes—but gentle around those he cared about, which was only a few select people.

And you certainly were not one of those select people.

Joel didn't know what to think about you.

To him, you were odd. Yes, you were undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in Jackson, but he felt distance between the two of you was essential.

He felt this way because he knew.

Joel wasn't oblivious to your stares; he might've been an old man, but he remembered the laws of attraction fairly well.

He didn't like the thought of you liking him.

You were young, attractive, and had plenty of age-appropriate prospects just begging for your attention. Every boy in Jackson wanted a piece of you—but you only had eyes for Joel.

He was getting old and tired, ain't no reason why you should be so fond over him.

He also didn't like that you made your attraction so obvious. It made people whisper, and Joel about had enough teasing from Tommy.

"You gonna let that young thing jump your bones or what, Joel?" Is an example of the few things his brother would chirp at him whenever you were around and had eyes on him like he was a target.

So, all things considered, it's no surprise when Joel is reluctant to make a supply run with you.

You had begged Tommy to let you go out and finally start pulling your weight, carefully adding that Joel would be a great teacher for a first timer like yourself.

You stand near the truck, squeezing the straps of your backpack while watching Joel and Tommy whisper to themselves a couple feet away.

"You can't find anyone else?" Joel growls lowly, narrowing his eyes at his insufferable brother who he’d really like to strangle right now.

"Are you seriously scared of a twenty year old girl, Joel?" Tommy asked exasperatedly, throwing his arm out in disbelief. "It'll take two hours tops, what the hell are you so scared of?" Joel is exhaling through his nose, dragging a hand down his jaw in complete disgruntlement.

"You know what the hell I'm scared of Tommy—goddammit," He gets in his brother’s face before realizing you’re still watching them.

He takes a moment to back up and calm down, breathing out through his nose.

"I do not need this town thinkin' I am encouraging this girls...feelin's." He murmurs lowly.

Tommy rolls his eyes before shoving Joel's backpack into his chest.

"Just don't fuck her, Joel. How hard could it be?"

Joel watches as Tommy turns his back and walks away, leaving just you and him.

Joel had spent a lot of time making sure he was never in a situation alone with you—now he was about to be your unsupervised mentor.

He feels a groan try and crawl its way out his throat, but he pushes it down.

He starts walking to the truck, not even looking at you as he passes and yanks the driver side door open with more force than necessary.

"Let's make this quick." He grunts out, climbing inside.

You do the same, only with a little bit more enthusiasm. ***

The trip is a complete bust.

Joel barely paid you any attention, no matter how many flirty gestures you made at him.

You'd say something remotely suggestive and he'd either glare at you, or just flat out ignore you.

But you were relentless. Giving up on him wasn't in the cards for you, no matter how many judgmental looks he casted your way.

You guys had been driving back to town for around five minutes; Joel has kept his eyes firmly on the road in fear of you sparking a conversation with him.

But you do anyways.

You turn your body to face him in the bench seat, your eyes cascading down his breath-taking side profile.

You zoned in on the gray patches of his beard, and how his face had the remnants of a long, unforgiving life weaved into his wrinkles and scars.

You're momentarily rendered speechless by his looks before he side-eyes you.

"What?" He huffs out, not being able to handle your intense stare any longer.

"Why not?"

A beat.

"What?" He asks again, his brows furrowing together, an annoyed and confused expression painting his features.

"Why won't you fuck me?"

Joel physically winces at your language, scoffing in what looks to be disgust as he starts shaking his head.

"We're not starting this." He snaps firmly, a tone in his voice that you haven't heard before.

Completely disregarding his words, you start.

"Is it because I'm not pretty enough?" Joel groans out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Is it because there's someone else?" He's close to snapping. "Is it because you can't get it up? I heard thats a problem with guys your age-"

Joel slams on the brakes, sending you lurching forward. He shoves the truck into park before turning to face you, a scary look on his face.

"I am not going to fuck you--Christ almighty," Joel raises his voice at you.

You're staring at him, wide eyes and lips parted in surprise. You weren't really expecting this.

"you're bustin' my fuckin' balls, Look kid," He starts up again, this time with a softer tone. "M'about 40 years too old for you-"

You cut him off with a murmur. "36, I did the math."

"Same damn thing," he snaps, shaking his head. "Point is—you don't needa be wastin' your time with me; there are plenty boys your age that will satisfy your...you."

You scoff in his face but try to disguise it by clearing your throat.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Joel," You start, a sad smile spreading across your lips. "S'just sex." You say with a shrug, blush coating your cheeks because now your mind is imagining sex with him.

He stays silent and looks away from you, closing his eyes like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

That urges you to say more.

"I won't tell anyone," You're practically whispering, looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me."

Joel's heart cinches in his chest at your words, mostly because he can tell you're being so genuine.

Why the hell did you like him so much? He just couldn’t understand it.

But he can't entertain this any longer because he knows if he did, he'd give into you.

"I don't wanna hear another goddamn word outta your mouth." Joel says in a strikingly even and calm tone, putting the truck into drive and continuing back.

He's eerily silent, and so is the rest of the trip because you're too dejected to speak.

Eventually, you both arrive home and you're fast to get out of the truck.

You slam the door and keep your head down as you walk away, snow crunching beneath your boots.

Joel takes his time, watching you storm off with tired eyes.

He feels bad for being so rough on you, but he figured it was the only way to get you to stop liking him.

Tommy walks up, a concerned look on his face as he looks back between you and Joel.

"Guessin' you didn't fuck her."

***

Nobody had seen you in days.

The pain of rejection had you in a mental place that you had never experienced before.

No one has ever denied you—ever.

The situation was 100x worse considering you actually liked Joel, and he wasn't just another toy to play with.

Joel figured his life would get easier with you not around, and it kinda did in some aspects.

But he couldn't stop the gnawing feeling of guilt slowly eating at him like a parasite.

He'd been cruel to you in the way he went about things, and he felt bad.

Had he really broken your heart? He didn't know you liked him that much.

He sits in his living room, contemplating how to go about this entirely fucked up situation.

He debates making amends with you, apologizing and rejecting you again but in a gentler way.

He deliberates on his plan of action while nursing a glass of whiskey before he's interrupted by three bangs on his front door, followed by a screeching: "JOEL"

He mutters a 'what the fuck' under his breath, walking to the door and picking his 9mil up on the way.

His eyes widen when he sees you-standing there in all your glory.

It's the middle of winter and snowing like hell, yet you're wearing shorts and a tank top with a beer bottle in your hand.

"Jesus, kid-what the fuck," Joel ushers you inside quickly, taking his big jacket off the coatrack and draping it over you.

He also tosses his gun to the side, obviously you were no threat.

"You tryin' to get frostbit? Christ," he's swearing and muttering profanities as he guides you over to the couch, now basically swaddling you in blankets.

You've never been inside his house before, only ever walked passed it a few times. It smells like him.

You, however, smell like alcohol and bad decisions.

Joel picked up on how drunk you were the minute you stumbled through the door. He takes the bottle from your hand and sets it aside somewhere, glaring at you like how a mad parent would.

"The hell are you doin' out in the snow like that? Fuckin' death wish or somethin'?"

His words are kinda fuzzy in your ears, you're so drunk that you barely even register them.

An unprompted giggle spills from your lips as you shake your head at him.

"It's not snowing silly," You chide, making him out to be an idiot when, in actuality, it's a damn blizzard outside.

He knows from that statement alone that you are way off your rocker tonight.

"How much have ya had to drink, kid?" Joel asks, raking a hand through his graying hair.

"Don't call me kid," You snap, a quick flash of anger in your expression. "M'not a kid."

Joel rolls his eyes so hard that he probably caused a tsunami on the other side of the world.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. What are you doin’ here?” He asks exasperatedly, dragging a hand down his jaw while looking at your trembling figure.

There’s a long pause before you answer. You just got distracted by his big brown eyes.

“Jus’ wanted to say hi.” You murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from his face.

“Say hi?” He reiterates, looking at you like you’ve actually lost your mind.

You probably have.

After a moment, Joel can’t help but chuckle in disbelief, letting his body lean back against the couch.

The absurdity of it all turned humorous to him.

Here you are, sitting in his living room, practically nude with only his coat and blankets protecting your modesty, having just trekked through the snow all for what? To say hey?

You’re still sitting there, motionless and trying to remember how to breathe because his laughing face has your heart lighting off fireworks.

“Fuckin’ hell—hi.” Is all he says, turning his head to the side to look at you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You smile like a dope at him, so extremely happy to be there in his company.

But the alcohol in your system is fighting you, and you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

“S’it cool if I say the nigh?” You slur, falling vertically on the couch, your head crashing onto Joel’s thigh.

You nuzzle your cheek against the fabric of his jeans and Joel is just about to gently push you off, but he stops himself.

You look so comfortable and so at peace that Joel can’t do anything except stare at you.

Your cheek is slightly smushed, your lips are parted, your eyes are shut and don’t plan on opening—it’s insane to him how at home you looked.

Like you belonged here, head rested on his lap.

Fuck.

He was fucked this time.

He doesn’t move you. Instead, he fixes the blankets on top of you so you’re fully covered, and sits there with you the entire night.

He’s really gone soft.

***

When morning comes, you’re first to wake up, accompanied by a splitting headache.

You don’t even notice how Joel’s hand had fallen onto your waist some time during the night because you’re too busy making a b-line for the bathroom.

You chuck your guts up into the toliet, clutching the porcelain and groaning out in pain.

Joel wakes up to the sound of your hurling, momentarily disoriented before he remembers last nights events.

He’s quick to come to your aid in the bathroom, wasting no time gathering your hair in his fist to get it out of your face.

"S'right, get it all out," He murmurs out encouragingly, seemingly unfazed by the disheveled sight of you.

You’re too sick to be embarrassed, that’ll come later surely.

He sits on the wall of the tub as he continues holding your hair back, yawning every now and then like this was just a regular Tuesday morning.

Eventually, by the mercy of God, you get it all out of your system and slump up against the wall.

“M’sorry,” You immediately apologize, figuring that is the only right move in this situation.

“Don’t be. Been through plenty'a that in my day.”

His words are uncharacteristically reassuring and you find yourself taken back by them.

You soon realize this is probably just the hazy morning Joel, the Joel where he isn't worried about anything except coffee and breakfast—like everything wrong in his life is put on the back burner for this short minute in time.

“I’ll get you some water and Advil, sit tight.” He grunts before standing up on his feet, knees popping as he walks out.

You watch as he leaves, wiping the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Aside from the vomit part, you could get used to this.

You've never seen him so...domestic. His hair was all messy, his voice was raspy, he had that morning haze over his features that you felt so honored to witness.

You suddenly felt compelled to look at your own appearance, hopping to your feet and looking in the dirty mirror.

You resist the urge to audibly gasp at your reflection, opting for a disgusted look instead.

Your hair is a rats nest, your clothes are a mess, and your mascara has rubbed off in black smudge all over the skin around your eyes.

In a desperate attempt to look at least semi-presentable, you wash your face with water and comb through your hair with your fingers.

The idea that Joel had seen you looking like that was making your stomach churn again.

Before you can grovel about it any longer, he rounds the corner with a glass of water and little brown pills in his hand.

“Here,” He says softly, handing you the water and tilting the pills into your open palm. “Take these ‘n drink all that water and ya should get to feelin’ better.”

You do as he says, swallowing the Advil in one go before taking a big sip to wash it down.

His eyes drift down to your shoulder, where your tank top strap has fallen. No doubt from all that vigorous throwing up you were doing moments ago.

Without thinking, his fingers graze your forearm before bringing the strap back up to its correct position, clearing his throat in the process.

A beat of silence falls over the both of you.

You’re gobsmacked by the complete nonchalance of his touch, staring at him with your mouth slightly open in shock.

“What?” He asks defensively, his tone pointed.

You look between him and your shoulder strap, then slowly move to set your water down.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck?”

“Goddammit—” Joels cursing before you can even finish saying the last word in your sentence.

He turns away from you, probably the fastest you’ve seen anyone turn in their life, and walks towards his room with an accelerating pace.

He shakes his head in disbelief all the way down the hall, pivoting on his heel to duck into his bedroom.

You follow him, not really fazed by how he completely refused to answer your question, though you didn’t think he would anyway.

Before you can step foot into the threshold of his room, Joel walks out, causing you to back up.

He shoves a stack of clothes in your direction, looking down at you with a frustrated face. “Put these clothes on and go home.”

You look down, realizing he was letting you borrow a sweater and jeans of his so you didn’t die walking back to your house from the cold.

Your heart warms at this thoughtfulness.

Without wasting any time, you take the clothes from his hands, smiling happily. “Can I keep them?”

“Why the hell would you wanna keep my clothes?” He’s got that confused/angry look on his face as he asks, and you have to suppress a giggle at the sight of it.

You bring the pieces of fabric up to your nose and inhale, humming as you breathe out again. “They smell like you.”

“Christ,” Joel beings his hands up to rub at his eyes. “Fine, do whatever. Just hurry up and change, jesus,"

Ever the tease, you set down his clothes and begin to lift your tank top like you planned to change right in front of him.

Joel's hands shoot out to stop you, a 'don't try me,' look on his face.

"Put them on over your clothes," Joel says sternly, watching the way you sigh because you weren't fast enough in lifting your tank top off.

However, you sieze the opportunity in front of you.

Joel's hands are holding yours down, so you work to intertwine your fingers, invading his space by stepping forward.

"Or, you could take my clothes off," You purr, your chest now flush with his torso.

Joel exhales through his nose, his jaw clenching as he tried deciding how he was going to get out of this situation.

But then he paused.

Looking down at you now, so eager and wide eyed, made him wonder.

If he fucked you, and made you realize it wasn't what you were probably imagining in your head, maybe then you'd finally leave him alone.

He would just...pretend to be awful at sex.

(Even though it had been so long and he wasn't sure if he'd actually need to 'pretend' anymore.)

There's a long silence that drags out between the both of you.

Your stomach is doing flips because it's looking like he's finally going to agree.

His resolve cracks and Joel can't do anything but sigh in defeat.

Slowly, Joel pulls you back into his room, closing the door behind you both.

Time is moving in slow motion.

You can't believe it's finally happening.

He guides you back until the back of your knees hit his bed, prompting you to sit down on it.

"I'm only going to do this once," Joel's voice is uncharacteristically low and calm, and it has your core tightening.

You nod in acknowledgement, waiting to see what he's going to do next.

With care, he pushes your shoulder down so you're laying on your back. "Are you sure you want this?" He asks, brown eyes searching yours.

"Have I not made it obvious?" You quip, a giggle following shortly after.

Joel only shakes his head before his fingers latch around the fabric of your shorts, pulling them down and off your legs.

"S'pose you have." He murmurs, scratching the back of his neck.

You're vibrating with excitement and you repeat what you tried earlier, only this time succeeding with taking your top off.

Of course, you're not wearing a bra.

Joel realizes in that moment that he bit off way more than he could chew.

He hasn't seen breast that weren't on a soggy piece of paper in at least a few years, and yours--well, his cock stood no chance.

You hear him swallow, watching as he can't seem to stop staring at your chest.

Realizing that he might need a little encouragement to start speeding things along, you smile up at him and whisper, "touch me Joel".

Yeah, screw this. His plan of pretending to be bad was now entirely forgotten—he was going to do what he wanted, so help him god.

He huffs out a curse before sliding a hand up your torso, stopping once he's fully cupped one of your breasts in one hand. He kneads it like dough while using his other hand to disappear under your panties.

A choked moan erupts from your lips once you feel his fingers brush along your clit, rubbing around and spreading your slick around all too slowly.

"haven't even done anythin' yet and you're already fuckin' soaked..." He murmurs really to just himself, his eyes casting down to watch as he rips your underwear off impatiently.

"M'always like this whenever you're around," you mewl to spur him on, spreading your legs wider.

"Oh you are, huh?" Joel repeats back, the tiniest bit of cruelty in his tone that makes you shiver.

You nod, bucking your hips into his hand desperately.

"don't get why you like an old man like me, s'gross." His tone is flat but it's clear he's teasing by the way he curls his fingers inside of you. He's not really expecting a response, but you feel compelled.

You lurch forward, gasping at the feeling. "I really like you," You rush out breathlessly. "I'd do anything you wanted me to." You say earnestly as you stare into his eyes, loving what you're seeing.

Joel remembers when you told him that the first time, his heart cinching the same way it did then.

Joel is at war with himself. One side of him is screaming that this whole situation is fucked up and he is better off without you.

Another part of him thinks that this is the most he’s ever felt in a long time. And he doesn't want to lose it.

You can see the gears turning in his head. His fingers have slipped from you and you wince at the loss.

Slowly, you sit up. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your nipples pressing into his shirt.

He's confused and momentarily panicked when your faces get so close together, his hands seeking purchase on your hips.

In an unexpected move, you rake your hands through the side of his hair, looking lovingly at his face.

"I just wanna be someone for you," You murmur, your face breaking a little as Joel's resolve also cracks. "Doesn't matter what. I'm very versatile." You mumble the last part to try and lighten the mood.

Joel just stares at you—something swimming behind his eyes that you can't quite place.

Eventually, he crashes his forehead against yours, sighing out.

"You're makin' this fuckin' impossible." He rasps before kissing you with a passion you've never felt before.

You feel victorious.

He's finally given in to you.

Eagerly, you kiss back, wrapping your legs around his torso and grinding your bare cunt against the bulge in his jeans.

"Then stop trying so hard to get rid of me," You sigh out, chasing his lips even as you're trying to speak.

He groans and you catch it in your mouth, the pressure on his clothed cock making him dizzy.

“Fuck,” He’s quick to unbuckle his belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it somewhere on the floor. “Lay back.” He demands and you immediately follow suit.

He's never been that...assertive with you before. It makes you tingle all over.

He looks starved as he peers down at you, specifically your cunt.

He literally can’t tear his eyes off your sex—he only looks up to your gaze when you let out an impatient whine.

He rips down his pants, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

Now you can’t tear your eyes away from his sex.

You’ve only dreamt it so many times, but now that it’s finally in front of you—it all just feels surreal.

It’s better than you imagined, perfect.

“I don’t have a—”

You know what he’s about to say so you cut him off immediately. “S’okay, like it raw. Closer to you that way.” You murmur.

Joel looks physically pained that he’s not inside you right now. For some reason, you just know all the right things to say.

“Closer to me?” He huffs out, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to the edge of the bed where he stood.

Now your cunt is flush with the base of his member and the sensation drives you both insane. “You’re fuckin’ insane.”

Joel rasps, but the way he says it reveals just how far he’s fallen. He knows you’re crazy, and yet here he is, balancing you out.

He glides his member back and forth against your folds, gathering up your wetness with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

He looks so concentrated—meanwhile you’re writhing with pleasure and impatience. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs to himself, eyes tracing all over you.

You freeze.

Joel had complimented you for the first time, and it was genuine.

He notices you stiffen and takes a moment to pause.

Your entire body erupts with goosebumps, your heart beating at exceptionally fast speeds.

He's worried for a second that something is horribly wrong.

“What?” He asks, confused at what’s got you so wound up.

Your face is flushed red as you bashfully giggle. “You called me pretty.”

Ah fuck.

Joel finds you so charming it hurts.

After he remembers how to breathe again, he rolls his eyes and clears his throat.

“I have my cock to your cunt, of course I find you pretty.”

You smile and shrug. “Still. Nice to hear.” You’re all smiles until his tip prods at your entrance, causing a gasp to leave your throat.

He continues to apply pressure with his tip and it’s driving you crazy.

“Fuck Joel—are you trying to kill me?” You whine, hips wiggling to get him in.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “Relax, m’almost there.”

Slowly, he begins pushing his way inside. His mushroom head breaches you entirely and it feels like you can hear the angels singing.

He continues forward, the stretch being mainly around the middle of his thick cock.

But you’re taking it like a champ.

Joel braces himself with hands on both sides of your torso as he bottoms out, a groan crawling its way out of his throat.

The sensation is absolutely delicious.

A little bit of pain from the stretch, but so much pleasure from the fullness.

“Joel, ohmygod you feel so good inside me.” You moan, throwing your head back.

Your hips start moving on their own, but he immediately stops you with two large hands.

“D-Don’t move—fuck.” Joel grumbles out, his face pinched together in what looked like pain.

You’re confused for a moment, thinking maybe that he might just be really into cockwarming.

But then it hits you.

“Were you gonna come?” The tone in your voice makes it seem like you’d be elated if that was the case—like the most flattering thing in the world.

Joel looks pissed that you caught on so quick.

In truth, the moment he put his tip in, he was holding back his orgasm.

Can you blame him? He’s only fucked his hand for the last couple years.

“S’been a while.” Is all he can say, his chest heaving up and down in concentration. You know he’s embarrassed, but you can’t help but smile like a dope at him.

“If you come, please do it inside, please,” you beg, reaching out for his arms that caged you in.

Joel's rational mind feels like it just touched down in looney town after hearing your begging.

He feels crazy because he liked the thought of the idea you proposed. You even see him hesitate. But then he scoffs and shakes his head.

Joel drops down closer to your face, slowly starting to rock his hips into you. "Tryin' to baby trap me, girl?" He grunts in your ear, making you moan out.

Your walls are clenching down on him, and it’s making it that much harder to hold back. “No-no, promise, just wanna be full of you." You manage to blubber out...unconvincingly.

You probably didn't really want a baby with Joel, but your lust-driven brain was working on fumes and you just wanted to do what felt good.

Joel's grunting in your ear was not helping things. His fingers were gripping your hip so hard, you figured it would probably bruise tomorrow

Good. You wanted whatever he would give you.

"Christ--m'not gonna last much longer," Joel groans, picking his head up a little to meet your gaze. He wanted to kick himself for not being able to last, but when he saw your face, all those feelings disappeared.

You looked so--perfect. Soaking up the moment in case it was the last, god you hoped it wasn't the last time. Now that you've finally had a tase of him, you weren't sure you could live without it.

Your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him firmly in your cunt. Joel notices this and also your pleading eyes, a growl leaving his throat.

"Please, please, please, please," you beg, never breaking eye contact with him as his thrusts pick up speed.

He ruins your long string with pleas with a needy kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat like a starving man.

You accept it happily, moaning out into the kiss while Joel manhandles your hips to take his cock.

The feeling is damn near euphoric for both you and him. It gets even better when Joel's hand comes down to rub at your clit again.

Your back arches off the bed as you gasp and moan out, wrapping your arms back around his shoulders. "F-Fuck!" You moan into his ear, probably drooling on his shoulder in the process. "thankyouthankyouthankyou-" you sputter out in choked sobs. He was really good at working on your clit, you couldn't do anything else but thank him for it.

Joel feels a surge of something when he hears you. He's never had a woman thank him in bed before.

It's enough to push him over the edge. And apparently you too.

"I'm gonna come Joel, please don't stop," There are pools of tears in your eyes that Joel is just now noticing. He's about to reply to you, but he finds himself speechless when he feels your cunt start constricting and fluttering around him like a vice.

"Fuck!" He groans out loudly, his hips starting to falter in their rhythm. But then he picks up speed again, and in no time he's like a madman jackhammering into you.

You're a mess of screams and cries and moans underneath him, happily taking everything he was giving you.

When Joel feels himself about to come, he notices how your legs are still tightly wrapped around him, keeping him inside, and he manages to scoff out.

"Gotta let me go baby," You've never heard that pet name from him before, and it makes you crumble. His hands move to grab at your thighs, kneading the flesh there.

You whine out but reluctantly release the grip your legs had on him. Joel doesn't waste time before hugging both your legs on his chest, keeping them firmly placed while your feet squirmed by his ear.

"Atta girl," he murmurs before picking up speed again, his cock head pressing into your cervix.

It's all too much for you. Joel looks so amazing pounding into you from above, his concentrated face, his sweat, the way his salt and pepper hair is all disheveled, you're losing your mind.

Your core is on fire and you can't stop yourself.

In a staggering turn of events, you come first.

Your walls come down like bricks on his dick, you cry out, throwing your head back in complete bliss and ecstasy.

Seeing and feeling this, Joel is quick to follow in your steps. He rips himself from that warm hole of yours and pumps himself dry onto your stomach.

You watch it all with wide eyes, you wouldn't have missed Joel's orgasm face for the world!

Of course, his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth was open as he was breathing heavily, and his eyebrows turned down like he was mad.

God he was so beautiful.

His thick ropes of cum shoot all over your stomach and even your breasts as he jerks himself off to completion.

When he finishes, he takes a moment to catch his breath, finally opening his eyes to see you scoop up his cum from your breast with your finger and shove it in your mouth.

Your tongue swirls around his seed and you swallow eagerly, humming out in satisfaction at the taste of him.

Joel's watching in complete fascination, though his expression looks a little angry. When does it not?

"taste so good," you mumble with your finger still in your mouth, looking up at him with your big eyes.

He moves before he can think about it--ripping your hand away from your lips and caging you in a slow but deep kiss.

He soon falls down beside you and soon rolls over onto his back, his chest rising and falling from the excursion.

You curl into his side, watching his side profile so intently. You had just fucked Joel Miller.

And it was everything you had dreamed of. Extreme happiness doesn't even begin to describe your feelings right now.

There's a long stretch of silence that drapes over the both of you. Eventually, Joel breaks it with something extremely off topic.

"Last night...you didn't just come here to say 'hi', did you?"

You're momentarily speechless, not expecting that question from him at all. But you can't stop a giggle from coming through your lips.

"Actually, I came to confront you." Your voice is soft as you begin speaking, thinking back to last night's ordeal.

Joel doesn't expect this answer, his head turns to look at you while you speak. His arm comes down to drape over your shoulder.

"I was really upset cus you rejected me n'all. I just couldn't accept the whole, 'age gap' excuse. I wanted to know if you just really didn't like me or not." You're murmuring, drawing soft lines with your finger on the skin of Joel's chest.

He huffs out a breath at the explanation, shaking his head. "Guess you got your answer, huh." He grumbles out, somewhat ashamed of himself that he couldn't hold back.

You smile and lean up to kiss his cheek. "I did," you chirp happily, admiring his face again. "You know you're gonna have to fuck me, like, everyday now, right?"

You're kidding. But you're also not at all.

Joel scoffs and sits up, moving to pick up both his and your shirts. "Fat chance. Barely had enough stamina for one round." He grunts out, finding the neck hole in your tank top and putting it over your head for you.

You don't bother to pull it down over your breasts so Joel does it for you.

"It's okay, we can build up your tolerance over time." You quip with a teasing smile, loving the way Joel turned to glare a you.

He couldn't believe the youth these days.

[sceletaflores]

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent. 

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts. 

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more. 

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you. 

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved. 

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure. 

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist. 

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain. 

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer. 

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours. 

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow. 

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest. 

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt. 

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

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