#Something at least. and like. it's not like he didn't do anything on his own or at least without any special abilities but then

[felixbit]

chestnut

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader w. 0.8k genre: comedic fluff summary: your boyfriend, hyunjin, comes home on christmas day from sbs gayo daejeon after surprising you with a new look. he's shaved his hair and gone blonde. warnings: reader mourns the long hair but is very supportive. playful teasing a/n: this is literally just how i'm coping rn

New year and comeback season always meant new looks and fresh things. However, this was not expected.

You were at home, as always. Christmas was a busy day for Hyunjin, away at SBS Gayo Daejeon performing and looking pretty for the cameras. It was routine, but you always enjoyed tuning in and seeing the talent from him and his group as they performed.

There was a red carpet to unveil looks, but you were preparing some food for dinner that night. Things were getting hectic in the kitchen and time passed you by.

But your phone started to buzz. And buzz. And buzz.

Unable to ignore the repeating notification noises, you stopped what you were doing to figure out what had your phone blowing up. Notifications from posts and texts from friends... what was happening?

Everyone was talking about Hyunjin. As normal as it was for him to get the world's attention, the sheer amount of notifications was concerning. Something was obviously going on.

So, you opened your feed. It didn't take more than a single scroll for the picture to hit your timeline. On the red carpet, looking sharp and stunning, was Hyunjin. Beautiful outfit, many piercings, eyebrow slit fresh.

Oh, and his head was completely shaved and dyed blonde.

You stared at your phone in shock for what felt like forever. The two second clip of him looking stunning for the cameras replayed over and over as your brain tried to pick up the pieces.

You knew he wouldn't have his phone on him and able to look at it for a bit, but that did not stop you from blowing up his texts. Nothing outrageous or upset, but a lot of spammed questions and confusion got the message across pretty well. It was the least you could do.

Reeling from the overwhelming knowledge of your boyfriend's look, you decided to put your phone down and get back to cooking. You had to take your mind off of it or you might go insane.

The whole time, all you could think about was him. How drastic it was, how hot he looked, the whole bit. Hwang Hyunjin was taking up your entire mind.

Any task that you tried to do seemed impossible to entirely focus on. Every moment had you wanting to grab your phone and scroll, finding every possible photo of him. Hyunjin being a world-famous idol did not make this any easier.

Giving in, you resigned to doom scrolling. If you weren't able to focus, you wouldn't get anything done. Might as well just drool over how good he looks, you thought.

When he finally got done with the show, he was able to text you back briefly. He returned your texts with spam of his own, a bunch of apologies and letting you know when he'd be back.

Waiting for him to come home seemed impossible. The performance that the group gave was phenomenal as always. However, nothing could prepare you for seeing the look in person. Time passed dreadfully slow.

As you had finished up dinner, you heard the door swing open. You turned around to see Hyunjin out of breath. He waved to you, a shy smile on his face as he hung up his coat and took off his shoes. He approached slowly, looking uncertain.

"Do you... like it?" He finally asked, his voice shaky and small.

Staring at him for a few seconds, you smiled and nodded. "Of course I do, but why didn't you tell me?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise! A Christmas gift, you know?" Hyunjin tried to explain, breathing still heavy from running, "I thought it was a really big change, and I was worried you'd say no."

You looked at him incredulously. "Why would I say no to you wanting to try something new?"

"I... don't know." Hyunjin climbed into a chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he fully caught his breath.

You watched him for a few moments, quietly observing his new look for yourself. He looked stunning, his sharp features accentuated by the new hair and the piercings grabbing your eye.

Although, you had something on your mind. "Oh, your poor hair," You lamented jokingly, "If you had warned me, I would've cherished it more if I knew it was the last time I'd see it."

"Aish, you'll see it again," Hyunjin groaned, standing up and looking at you, "Just not for a while."

"You better grow it back out," You retorted, walking over and running your fingers through his soft, short hair.

Hyunjin grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "We'll see."

"Hwang Hyunjin."

"Okay, okay, sorry."

As you plated your dinner with him, you looked over and snickered. "God, you really do look like a chestnut. Changbin was right."

"What did he call me?" Hyunjin scoffed, "I'm not a chestnut."

"Chestnut, dumpling, flour boy. You're becoming the real grocery list."

"I am not!"

[dansroo]

Don't get angry with him, he was patient enough. :(

content; Jayce Talis x reader. nsfw. blowjob under a desk. male! reader. needy! jayce. light overstimulation. mention of body fluids. established relationship. Jayce loving everything about you. you are not in a public place as such, but it is not the right place to do that kind of stuff. word count: 5.2k

a/n; he's so stupid, I love him, ugh. english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammatical error !

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

You swallowed saliva with difficulty, unable to avoid letting out a trembling gasp as you tried to maintain your sanity and continue working with what you had in front of you. But you reached a point where what you were supposed to do had been lost along with the rest of the coherent thoughts that resided in your now blurred mind. The tool you held in your hand slipped, making a loud — sharp noise upon contact with the surface of the desk.

You bit the back of your hand in a failed attempt to muffle your moans. For God's sake, you could hear the lustful sounds that Jayce's mouth made while eating you under the desk.

The plans and annotations in front of you began to become less readable; you were fighting against the impulse to succumb. You couldn't let him get away with it and give him, on a golden platter, what he wanted.

His big hands wrapped almost completely around your thighs while his face was buried between them, taking you completely at a desperate rhythm. He knew that this was the least suitable time and place to do something like that, but he was starved; he needed you, and he was sure you would understand, right?

You felt a chill invading your whole body, along with a wave of pleasure that wrapped your stomach. Your legs felt weak, and you had the desire to grind your hips against his pretty face. You whined, clinging with one of your hands to the edge of the desk.

It wasn't his fault, of course not. No one ask you to look so good while you were working.

“No distractions, got it.”

Well, it could probably be just a little his fault.

But he truly made every effort to listen to you, to be attentive to every word you said, but he couldn't help it. Not with you looking so handsome in front of him. All he could focus on was the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way you bit your lip in thought, the way you had your sleeves rolled up and your hair was slightly tousled. The smudge of grease on your face, he find it strangely endearing. You were so invested in your work, so dedicated and passionate. It was... kind of hot.

God, he really loves you so much.

He lost count of all the times he moved around the room, trying to distract himself with anything other than you. Swallowing nervously, waited for you to realize what he wanted — that he wanted you — but that was impossible. You weren't paying attention to him, and he didn't dare tell you anything because he was embarrassed enough to open his mouth — but not enough to get between your legs. You made him feel like a damn teenager in love, and he had to admit that deep down, he liked it.

A moan choked at the back of your throat, eyes rolling back as your fingers tangled in your hair, combing it back. You sighed tremulously, feeling your hips contract with the effort you were making for not to cum. You almost did when Jayce pushed your length all the way down his throat, with a hand gripping you firmly by the waist. He knew what he was doing.

“S-Shit!” you whimper loudly, unintentionally throwing the objects near you to the floor with your arms. You couldn't see him, but you knew he was smiling right now.

He really tried to push those thoughts away, but they just kept creeping back into his mind. He tried to focus on his own work, but his mind kept wandering back to you. You caught his gaze a few times, giving him a quizzical look, but he quickly glanced away; pretending to be focused on the tool he was holding. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and he knew he was probably blushing like an idiot.

He found himself stealing glances at you whenever he thought you weren't looking. Every so often, he'd catch a flash of that beautiful smile, and it would make his heart flutter all over again. He watched the way your fingers moved with such practiced precision ��� oh your beautiful hands, he couldn't wait to feel them on every corner of his body; just like your magnificent and pretty fingers, which were not only agile to create things.

You two had been working for hours and he had kept his patience as much as he could, but he couldn't keep waiting. You wouldn't blame him, would you?

“Jayce…”

“Mhm?”

The vibration of his throat caused you an involuntary moan. You cursed in low, tilting your head lower, peeking between the edge of the desk and your body to look at him kneeling in front of you. Your cock was still between his lips, with a mixture of his saliva and your fluids dripping from the corners. He looked at you attentively, with dilated pupils, observing your face. His hair was a mess, but it still looked cute as always.

“Stop, this… this is not the-!” He stopped you, sucking your tip and stealing a hoarse moan in the process. You bit your lip, watching his pretty mouth move up and down for your entire length. It was much better to see it than just to feel it.

You rested your back against the chair, bringing your hand to his hair; where your fingers tangled between his brown locks. Your legs opened more for him, being the only sign he needed to realize that he had obtained what he wanted.

He didn't take his eyes off you for the rest of the night; he wanted to make sure he remembered this moment well, capturing every expression on your face and the sound of your voice.

And don’t worry, you will make sure to collect your debt later.

© dansroo.2024. If by pure chance you recognize me, hi again! ;) I'm so sorry for deleted my account without giving explanations, I had some personal problems, really sorry.

[joeburrowshaircurl]

Low Battery

Paring: Joe Burrow x reader

warnings: depressing thoughts, angst, family dynamics. fluff

words: 1,116

a/n: I typed this out in one straight shot with no previous details figured out so I hope its okay. This is the complete opposite of all of the great and cute Christmas Joe fics everyone has been writing. Hope you all had a great Christmas if you celebrate! But without further ado! Its Christmas Eve, and Joe sees your social battery has worn out for the day.

Your family was mingling with each other, laughing and talking around the kitchen table and in the living room. Your little cousins and niece and nephew were in the playroom, keeping each other entertained with toys. You were sitting alone at the kitchen island, slowly eating the food on your plate. There wasn't any other room for you to sit but you didn't mind. Your posture was slumped slightly, your thoughts turned inward rather than focusing on the party going on around you. Joe, moving away from talking with your dad, turned the corner to see you and he immediately knew what was wrong. Your social battery had run out, and he knew you were struggling with spending time with your family.

You felt a hand land on the small of your back gently rubbing a spot on your sweater. The touch made you smile softly, grounding you and bringing you back to reality. You knew it was Joe without having to look. "Hey." He said softly, glancing at your half eaten plate. The amount of food that had been made from scratch over the past few days in preparation for the party, could have fed an army. Christmas Eve had always been a big deal in your family. But you hadn't eaten a lot. "I'm ready if you are." He hadn't asked how you were because you knew you'd put on a brave face and say you were fine when you weren't. At least while there were others around.

You nodded and picked up your plate to scrap off the food into the trash while Joe went to grab your coats and hats. "Time for us to head home, I've got to start prepping for Broncos game on Saturday." Joe announced towards your family as he held your coat so it was easier for you to put on, and you smiled at him once it was on.

"Thank you for coming early to help with the set up." Your mom chimed in from her spot at the table. There would be no hugs, your family didn't hug or say "love you" unless you were flying and there was a possibly of you crashing and dying.

"No problem at all." Joe smiled and went around to say good bye to everyone while you followed, putting on smiles and hugging your niece and nephew tightly before you made your way through the door and to the car, Joe holding the passenger side door open for you. "Thank you." You grabbed his arm gently and got onto your tip toes to kiss him on the cheek before getting into the car and putting your seatbelt on. You felt like the complete opposite of the confident women you had grown into since being away from home. Christmas hadn't always felt like this, it had been magical when you had been a child.

The car ride home was quiet, Joe didn't force conversation. He did take your hand in his, entwining his fingers with yours as he drove with one hand. Glances he stole in your direction once in a while to see how you were doing. The further away you got from the house, the better you felt.

Being shy, quiet and being a girl in an old school traditional family where boys were valued more, you had always felt somewhat out of place. Like whatever you did, wasn't enough. Your family had never done anything to hurt you, but words were said on occasion that cut you. And any time you tried to do something by yourself without Joe around, they were overbearing. Years of it had taken its toll mentally, even if they meant well. Being the girlfriend of an NFL quarterback, had caused you to adapt to being alone a lot but that hadn't been hard for you since you had lived life on your own most of your life.

But there was guilt that you didn't actually have it that bad compared to some families. You loved your parents and family still, you had good moments with them, but it was draining to be around them. Joe had helped you grow as a person in more ways than one, and during the season you were his rock as much as he was yours on the off season.

Once Joe parked in his garage, you unlocked the front door and took off your shoes, immediately wanting to change out of your clothes and slip into something more comfortable. Joe's excuse to prep for the Broncos wasn't a complete lie, he had had started to as soon as the Browns game had finished. But there were more things he wanted to look at and you didn't mind, it was part of his job and you would support him.

Once you were changed, you went to find Joe who you figured would be in his office. But you almost walked right into each other in the doorway of the bedroom. "What are you doing?" You asked as you noticed he had his Ipad in his hands with a notebook and pencil. "I'm going to study some film while you lie down." You knew by his tone, he wasn't taking no for an answer.

Joe couldn't read your mind all of the time, which is where communication came in. But he was pretty good at noticing what you needed during certain times, and this was one of those moments. It made your heart melt.

"Alright." You moved away from the door to climb into your side of the bed and get comfortable. Joe turned the TV on so he could cast from his Ipad to the tv so it was easier to look at. You loved when he let you look at plays from the other team, his fingers dancing on the screen to manipulate it to freeze and go backwards and forwards as he studied.

Joe noticed you watching and he smiled, knowing you felt better. "You're okay. You're doing good, I'm proud of you always." He reassured you as his fingers ran into your hair for a moment as he leaned down and kissed your forehead. You shifted to snuggle close to him as much as you could without getting in the way of his things on the bed. His words made you tear up for a few moments but no tears actually fell. You put your arm across his lap and smiled up at him. "I love you." Your voice was soft and full of love. "I love you too." He smiled before he focused on his Ipad once more. It wasn't long before you fell asleep, content with the life you had built for yourself.

[saintberceuse]

The whole theme of classism is just shoehorned in and pointless.

The Mastermind, Blitz randomly states that all he was trying to do was fight against the system that the Sins created. It feels like a big cool line, but where did that even come from!?

He's in court for a crime he didn't commit and even pleaded not guilty ???? Why is he now a martyr for all of imp kind ??? I get him switching from innocent to guilty to save Loona, Moxxie, and Millie, but the whole "I'm an imp that's upset at how lower demons are treated" is just so random and forced in.

And the way the episode ends with the other imps loving and celebrating Blitz ... as if he has ever actually done anything to help them :/

I'm sorry? Did they not all watch the rest of the televised trial where Stoals comes in and literally [lies] says he was behind it all ??? Why is Blitz a hero ???

I understand the angle from say Satan and Andy. Andy lied and framed the situation as a sort of coup (an imp tried to kill a goetia), and Satan bought it and set up the trial/execution around the idea of "lesser demons need to know their place." But beyond that initial scheme from Andy, nothing about what happened has anything to do with classism.

Nothing was changed or fixed, or at the very least, the issue wasn't even brought to light since the trial concluded in a way that moved away from that theme. A higher demon royalty is now believed to have set up his own kidnapping/hit (no imp uprising took place). A higher demon royalty saved the day. A higher demon royalty was the only one punished. A lesser demon did absolutely nothing wrong: didn't try to fight the system, didn't try to inspire an uprising, didn't save the day in any way, didn't get unfairly punished, etc. None of the "sympathetic" royalty/rulers in any way changed anything or had their eyes opened to the class imbalance and injustice-Ozzie and Bea ultimately do not care enough to actually try and do something. Stolas only saved an imp's life because he's in love with this particular imp. The only way any higher up demon cares about lower demons is because they're in love with one, but they really only care about the one.

"All I was trying to do was change the system you forced us in" - imp that is in love with royalty and is only able to make a living because he has this connection, plus is buddy-buddy with literal rulers that also created the very system he hates.

[unfriendlies]

it'd been so long since garam has actually felt something while kissing somebody. with axel, it always just felt like a task done for the other's pleasure and not his own. as much effort that he put into making sure his emotions showed with each kiss, garam just didn't feel anything from his ex partner. garam put more of an effort into appeasing him than the other did for him, as if he didn't care if their connection felt cold and emotionless. why it didn't occur to him sooner that he was being used by his ex baffled him. even in his drunken state, garam could see how foolish he was for accepting what he was given instead of expecting what he deserved. kissing angel felt different in the best way. he felt it with his entire body, he felt like he was kissing somebody whom truly loved him. it both soothed his heartache and made his heart ache even more. the guilt he felt for everything that had happened, for essentially making angel wait as long as he had. it was almost overbearing but garam did his best not to let it affect him, at least not right now. once their lips parted, garam glanced down between their bodies as if he were going to check on himself but he didn't need to actually see it to know he was aroused. at least he wasn't fully erect, that would have been more embarrassing. as flirty and welcoming he became while drinking, he always had trouble maintaining a hardon with alcohol actively coursing through his system. so to realize he was more turned on than he initially thought came to a very large surprise to him. he pushed his hips back so the lower half of his body wouldn't touch angel, not wanting the other man to realize the effect he had on garam's body. it wasn't because he didn't want angel to see it, at least not out of shame or embarrassment, it was because garam was afraid of triggering angel further. he shifted slightly, bending his leg up at his knee and twisting his hips so he could hide himself a bit more. even though the blanket provided him great coverage, he regretted taking off his jeans as they would have made it easy to conceal himself. he sighed softly when he was content with the protection he made for himself, the corners of his lips tugging up just slightly as he looked back up to angel. "i know what amor means," he spoke softly as his eyes starting to close as they felt tired, heavier. garam struggled against the feeling, not wanting to fall asleep so he could enjoy the moment a bit longer. "you love me," he paused for a moment, lifting his arm up underneath the blanket so he could drape it over angel's abdomen. "i love you, too." his voice was quieter now. "i'm gonna take such good care of you, i'll be the best boyfriend you'll ever have." garam went quiet, letting himself settle in his place in angel's arms. he did his best to clear his mind to let his body calm down but he was so impatient and each second that passed felt like minutes. his brows furrowed but only slightly as his fingers clenched around the material of angel's shirt, pressing his thighs together tightly. "i'm going to make you pay for this," he mumbled, words that were meant to stay in his head that garam hadn't fully realized were actually spoken. all he could do was lay there and hope he relaxed before angel realized there was something going on. last thing he wanted was to feel embarrassed because he got too excited.

Angel couldn't tell what the man was thinking. His eyes seemed to shift as Garam pressed his thumb into his bottom lip. Angel felt a calmness come over him. Something he hadn't felt in a while. The way his best friend was looking at him it quickened his heartbeat. Garam was always beautiful to him. But to see him lying in his bed caressing his face was driving Angel wild. He lowered himself further to brush their noses together. The thing was he was furthest from angry. His stomach had butterflies. This moment with Garam was everything. Angel’s eyes slipped closed as the man’s fingers moved over his face. Letting out a long breath they opened once more. Not being much for words Garam filled the space. Kissing him and demanding he be kissed until Angel wasn't angry. He thought about telling his best friend the truth. But he was tired of always doing the right thing. Where had it gotten him? Years of heartache and longing. Before he could fulfill the request Garan surprised him by kissing him. A smirk spread as he leaned down kissing Garam full on this time. Not ready to go further didn't mean he didn't want to. Angel cared for Garam deeply on many levels. But he was still human and often pictured the other man moaning his name. Praying to hear what it would sound like. A hum escaped into their kiss as he fought his mind and body. It had been a while since he probably kissed someone. Pressing their tongue against Garam’s lips begging for entrance. He now shifted to fully lay beside Garam. His arms scooped under the other man and hugged him close. A piece of Angel wanted to be cautious. Pushing himself too far would end in a disaster. But pushing Garam too far would haunt him. At the end of the day, Garam was still drunk. Angel typically never touched anyone under the influence. However, Garam was bring too enticing to turn down. His mouth moved slowly wanting to savor every taste he was granted. One hand pressed firmly into his back while the other was locked around his waist. Garam smelled as good as he looked, mixed with beer and tacos. Angel did his best not to laugh. This was not how he saw their first kiss going. The first kiss was to show his best friend that he had nothing to worry about. Hoping it would shock the man enough to go to sleep. But him practically begging for more was exactly what Angel liked. He loved being desired. Something that her man would learn when they were both ready. After a bit, he broke their kiss slowly. Angel licked his lips to break the trail of saliva connecting their lips. “Mi amor, es hora de ir a la cama,” Angel whispered as he pecked Garam’s lips once more. The words were meant to be in English but he was in a haze starting to feel the exhaustion. He began to rub the man's back hoping to coach him to sleep.

[imthepunchlord]

Courtship

Read more here.

.

Ever since their little late night dinner date, there’s been a slight shift in how Okarun treats Miss Ayase. It was nothing too drastic a change, if anything, it was just a minor shift in their normal dynamic stemming entirely from him. An extra habit he’s now developing. 

He’s been offering her food.

Very often. 

Typically, he shares his own meal with her. Even when she has her own, he makes the offer. She initially always refuses and it saddens him until she relents and has at least a bite of his food. 

It does make him happy, but he finds he always wants to give more. Give her all of it. 

When he has the money to spare, he’ll buy her favorite candies and food. 

When they have a big meal at the Ayase residence, he’ll grab some extra of what’s her favorite to share with her. 

He really would give her all of it if he could, but she’s adamant in making sure he eats too. 

And the sweet insistence just adds fuel to this fire. 

And Okarun just doesn’t entirely get it. 

But he also does on some instinctive level? 

He really doesn’t know how to even explain it. 

At least, until Turbo Granny grumbled at him in annoyance. “Can you save your fumbling courtship when you’re by yourselves?” 

Okarun nearly dropped his plate. “C-courtship?!” Okarun stiffly turned to her, gawking. “I, I'm not courtin—  well, we, we are dating so—” 

“Don't lump our superior culture with your mundane rubble!” Turbo Granny snapped. “You're pursuing her as a yokai and it's embarrassing watching your blunders!” 

Okarun blushed. “I, I didn't even realize…”

“Of course you didn't,” Turbo Granny sneered. “But now you know.”

“...Could you tell me about yokai courtship?” Okarun requested. 

Turbo Granny gave him a big side eye. “Why should I?”

“Because I'm fumbling around,” Okarun answered, a little more confident now, though his cheeks were still rather pink. “And how am I to know if I'm courting in front of you? This is all new to me.”

Humming aloud, Turbo Granny agreed, “Listen well then, Four Eyes. Yokai courtship is perilous. It comes about only to those who are ready to give it their all, or to perish in their failure. And I do mean perished in the murdered sense.” 

“I'm going to die if I fail?!” Okarun proclaimed. 

Well, he could believe it. If Miss Ayase said she never wanted anything to do with him, he would be devastated. The mere thought alone almost had him transform. 

Turbo Granny rolled her eyes. “Yes, a few weaklings will die of heartbreak, but most are murdered for wasting time!” 

“Oh,” he uttered. Well, he doesn't have to worry about that at least. 

“Yokai courtship is also incredibly trying, a true test of resilience, want, and one's ego.”

“Really?” Gosh, that sounds intimidating. What was Okarun in for?

“Yes, for courtship is the hardest thing for yokai to do.”

Okarun gulped as Turbo Granny paused for dramatic effect.

“Yokai courtship comes down to devotion.”

Okarun stared. Then blinked as Turbo Granny's words clicked in his mind. 

“Eh?” he uttered, “That's it?”

Turbo Granny smacked his thigh, snapping, “Don't say ‘that's it’ like it's nothing! Where's your pride as a yokai?!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” he soothed. 

“The vessel of my power,” Turbo Granny grumbled. 

“What do you mean devotion?” Okarun asked. He blushed red. “D-do you mean, like, kis-kissing—”

“It's a broad definition,” Turbo Granny said. “At the core, it comes down to you being devoted to another. Sometimes it comes down to physical and sexual pleasure.”

Okarun's blush went redder.

“Sometimes it comes down to service, provision, protection; it's putting another over yourself. Giving away something that should be yours, be it food, energy, time; anything.”

“Oh.” 

Turbo Granny gave him a side eye. “We yokai are proud entities. It takes a lot for us to swallow our pride and lower ourselves to another.”

“So, when I’m giving Miss Ayase food…”

“It's one of your courting methods, yes. You’re also quick to protect and obey her orders. Carrying her around like some horse. You act like she's your entire world.” Turbo Granny rolled her eyes and scoffed.

Well, he supposed she wasn't wrong. Miss Ayase was his world, she was very precious to him, and much of what she wanted he would give and more. The thought had him smile, it just felt right. 

And, he knew he was important to her too. That he was treasured and valued. Such attention and affection was so rare in his life, he couldn't help but cling to her, have all she wanted to give, and return it a hundred fold. 

“You should take a page from me,” Turbo Granny voiced, “be courted instead. She likes you enough that she'd do it, I bet.” 

Okarun had a start. He exclaimed in surprise, “ You're being courted?!”

Turbo Granny gave his leg a smack for his insolence. “Of course I am! Do you realize how much of a catch I am?!”

“Yes, you are,” Okarun appeased, “um, who's courting you then?”

Was some strange yokai visiting the Ayase residence? He didn't like that thought…

“Who do you think?” Turbo Granny scoffed, then pointed at Ayase-san. 

“Ayase-san?!” he gasped in surprise. “She's courting you?!”

“She cooks and feeds me,” Turbo Granny revealed. “Pretty unprompted, but sometimes I bring her food.”

“...But, Turbo Granny, I think she's just feeding you.”

“Hah! One does not simply feed a yokai! It's her means of worshipping me. That she desires me! And as a show of pleasing me, I join her on her outings. And sometimes I'll supervise you brats because she likes you.” 

“That's nice of you,” he offered. “Um, what about when you get your power back?”

“Clearly, this will be my new territory. Usually the one who does the devotion lives in that yokai's territory, if their devotion is accepted, but I'll make an exception for Seiko given her power and situation.” Turbo Granny gave Okarun a sneer. “You better offer me a lot of respect boy, for what will be hers will be mine, and this territory belongs to Seiko instead of Momo. Even if you move in, this won't be your turf.”

That sparked off something competitive in Okarun, something heated. This was where Momo lived. And instinctively, he felt a sense of protectiveness, a sense to claim this place as his, just as much as it was hers. And as these feelings ran so strongly, Okarun couldn't stop the words that were uttered aloud. 

“But Miss Ayase has already accepted my affections, so I have more claim to this territory now. You aren't official with Ayase-san yet.”

Turbo Granny's eyes went huge. “Hah?!” she spat, hissing a little. 

Okarun turned to her, eyes gleaming red. “This is my territory, not yours.” 

Turbo Granny was on her feet, her own teeth bared. “You wanna go at it, Four Eyes? I'll murder you—”

Turbo Granny toppled over a speeding mochi that was thrown her way. 

And a second smacked the shifting Okarun, knocking him over as well. 

The two speed yokai laid on the ground, stunned in surprise. They heard Ayase-san call out sternly, “I'll have no territorial disputes over dinner!”

“Yes, ma'am,” they both uttered. 

They sat up, eating the mochi and settling to glaring at each other quietly. This was not over.

[ghastlyaffairs]

for something as trivial and simple those feelings sure are hard to get rid of

also made a gif a version for fun + alt version with no tears under the cut

the gif is in very low resolution...this is a feature (i could make it bigger but that would require saving each frame individually and than glueing it all together. also i feel like low resolution suits it better. aesthetically and fits the mood)

[fideidefenswhore]

@bunniesandbeheadings I might misunderstand the text you linked. How could Mary call Edward a bastard? KoA was dead by then, and of course widowers can remarry. Calling Jane a legitimate Queen in no way would take away KoA’s status as Queen?

all of hviii's marriages after catherine of aragon were not recognised by the catholic church/pope. when he needed dispensations for these marriages, like for affinity (his marriage to jane was one of them), they were granted by the anglican church, whose authority the pope and other catholic monarchies of christendom did not recognise (the last real 'papal' henrician appointment, irony of ironies, was thomas cranmer's). there was also the matter of all marriages taking place when the realm was in schism, thus "all other women of henry concubines and not wives". prince edward was (legitimate) heir as reified by parliament; both retroactively from the succession act of 1536 and in name by the one of 1543.

foreign dignitaries of course, when they visited, would honour whoever henry's wife was as queen to maintain good relations and as matter of diplomacy (this wasn't, of course, done by the imperial until the last weeks of AB's time as queen, but otherwise, she was, even if 'frostily' by the french as in 1534). but they were often under instruction to treat this status as transient, as lauren mackay has summarized in her biography of chapuys, for example, charles v was rather mercenary in his attitude towards jane seymour, continually referring to her as henry's 'mistress' well into their marriage in his own instructions to chapuys:

"It appears Charles [V] was at times rather ruthless in regards to Jane, despite the fact that her being in power benefitted Mary. Charles referred to her in several dispatches as Henry's mistress rather than queen [...]" Inside the Tudor Court, Lauren Mackay

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 8: !!NOTE: this is different from the past polls - rather than choosing a story action, you're picking supplies to craft a little makeshift boat (EX: wood will be the main platform, so there should likely be the most of it, however, if there were 100% votes for branches and 0% votes for rope, then it'd just be a pile of wood held together by nothing - keep them balanced reasonably, etc.))

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

The winning option of yesterday's poll was that the adventurer should get around the barrier by crafting a little boat to take a river detour….

~

Finally crawling out of his hiding spot in the brambles, he meticulously brushes the leaves from his clothes and composes himself, now fully focused on his generic traveler's map of the area... After checking it about 500 times just to make sure he isn't confused, he determines that going down the nearby river would likely still get him where he's trying to go, and hopefully be much less treacherous than wandering through haunted forests or confronting the stern gaze of the barrier guards..

It only takes about 10 minutes of following a narrower rocky path off the main road to reach a nice shaded spot of land next to a small river. He kneels in the grass, eagerly rummaging through his backpack for supplies, in addition to whatever he can scavenge from the edge of the woods. The rush of excitement slowly dissipates however, once he realizes that he.. actually.. might not know how to make a raft as well as he thought... Surely it's quite straightforward, no? Just.. make it look like it does in picture books?? There are no rules, as long as it floats, it works! Probably anyone could build one on intuition alone! ... maybe...???

.. Once again sinking into a cloud of anxiety, he slumps over, staring at the pile of materials with teary eyes, doubtful what to even do next.... How should he build the raft? Help him by using the poll to choose the appropriate amounts of materials (determined by final % of votes in that category)!

[deeisace]

.

[ednaeflowers]

Her head tilts. Edna didn't think he would actually go along with this idea. Given the topic, 'Nova' is a girl; probably one Ludger is on tentative terms with if she is a last resort. ❛  I don't know who 'Nova' is, but as long as she's a girl, Operation Bait will work.  ❜ She thinks she might even borrow 'lecherous scumbag' someday if Perveid annoys her a little too much in the future henceforth. Though, Ludger does have a point about it being icky. She starts feeling sorry for Nova, whoever she may be. 

On her face is an unimpressed look towards his explanation. With a shake of her head, she flatly comments, ❛  That's got to be the cheesiest thing I've ever heard.  ❜

It's even cheesier than when Meebo was talking about a quote he wanted to use for that book he wants to write. Something about history being the architect of people's hearts. Cheesy, just like now—but she knows that people who can be openly cheesy are also people with good hearts, if not a little dorky. There is no real harm in wanting to write a book to preserve the events of their journey, or wanting to be a star in someone's sky. Edna can never be a star herself because her sky is long gone and dead, but Ludger... He still has people to shine for. He wants to ... help people. Humans like him aren't all that bad, she supposes.

❛  If he works so much by himself, then that means you have to definitely hold a light for him anyway,  ❜ she replies, shrugging. She knows how it feels to want to do something for an older brother, once upon a time. More solemnly, she adds, ❛  Even stars burn out eventually, so this is going to be a testament of your willpower. Be prepared for what could lie ahead, and make sure you don't regret anything. You can't bring hope to others if you can't do at least that much.  ❜ 

That was too serious for her liking, so she shakes off the bittersweet feeling as she watches him pour the mixture into a container. She is briefly shocked when he offers a ladle to her for a taste since no one really did that with her when they were cooking, but nevertheless, she slowly approaches him, the bag of the palmiers lowered as she dips a finger from her left hand into the thick glaze to lick off. The taste immediately has her eyes widening a bit in awe, an explosion of warm sweetness in her mouth as she swallows. 

❛  It's really good,  ❜ she firstly tells him, pleased. He nailed it. True, he just finished prepping it, but for it to taste this good at this stage is a feat of its own. It would be divine paired up with the chestnuts. ❛  The amount of sugar... Even the temperature... Keep making it like this at all times, Lurin.  ❜ 

She steps back to let him work again, idly playing with the ribbon of the palmier bag. ❛  I take walks, and I visit Onii-chan sometimes.  ❜ And that's it. Edna vowed to herself that she would not despair after Sorey's journey was over, but that did not mean she currently lives an eventful life either. She is simply content to live in peace, all things considered. ❛  Too boring for you?  ❜ she asks knowingly, fully expecting some sort of comment about how lonely her lifestyle is. 

Though he appreciates Lady Edna's attempt to sorta console him on his herculean task, Ludger can't say he's as hopeful as before he learned the truth. Glenwood's a massive continent; even if he ran on little sleep and no breaks, he could still miss Lord Zaveid by a thousand miles. Why must his good deeds in particular go unpunished?

But Lady Edna offered a Plan B as well: live bait. Ludger would've entertained it until the note about peeking on the girls sauna was tacked on. No lady, even his worst enemies, deserves to be ogled by... how did Victor put it when someone put a move on Lara once? "A lecherous scumbag", if he's remembering right.

'Feels icky to use somebody as ogling bait. Especially for a "lecherous scumbag". But guess could ask Nova as last resort since he likes meeting "hot studs".' Maybe then she'd stop her ogling of Julius. Ludger can't talk to her for more than a few minutes before he gets questions about his brother. Maybe this bitter pill would teach her what lies in the future.

His little nickname story ending so abruptly does catch Lady Edna's curiosity. Well... here it goes! 'So you know how stars light our world when it's at its darkest? And they're always above us even when we can't see them? I want to be like that one day: bringing hope to my friend's worst days even when I'm far away.'

Ludger expects much finger pointing and remarks if he's a five-year-old for the cheesy reasoning. But that's his lot in life: being a big ol' cheese wheel who spawns more cheese whenever he opens his mouth. Sure someone out there that isn't his brother likes his brand of cheese.

'Know I have a long way to go. But dreams can reach high right? d( ᵕ꒳ᵕ)ಇ Just hope Nii-san will be there to tell me I did a good job. He works himself WAY too hard.'

Ludger then set his notepad down to pour the chestnuts and syrup into a spacious container. Though before he covered it with a cooking cloth to let them marinate, he scooped a bit of syrup onto the ladle and offered it to Edna as a taste of what's to come. Too bad he couldn't make the actual soaking process faster; his Chromatus wasn't developed like Victor's or Nii-san's to pull anything so cool and suave...

'While this sits, what do you do when you're relaxing in your humble slice of home?'

[beemovieerotica]

I had a beloved psych teacher in high school who got warned by the principal at least once to stop running psychological experiments on students - he was literally made for prank YouTube before YouTube even existed, these weren't even formally constructed tests of the scientific method, it was just clownery and tbh I think teaching at a catholic school for 2 decades does something to you psychologically.

but anyway the one that went down in history was when he faked his own death in front of a classroom full of his students "just to see how they would respond, for science"

but he couldn't just fake a heart attack...because that would be lame... he concocted an elaborate scenario where a former student of his came in during a quiet self-study time and got in an argument with him about past grades. and the situation escalated, and this kid pulls out a fake gun and the teacher is like "oh my god!!" and gets shot in the chest - he had fake blood and everything and was doing his best to serve an oscar-winning performance. but I mean if you're known for clownery then. lol. most of the students were like "oh. we're being experimented on again" and just sat back mentally eating popcorn as a handful of people who didn't know him well freaked out.

nobody got hurt but he didn't record data or anything he was just like "wow that was interesting...let's talk about why none of you over there cared I was dying...it hurt my feelings...."

[transmasc-tabris]

More screenshots (bonus, managed to find Bull a shirt and don't know how to feel about that)

[stellardeer]

TL;DR - How would you kick someone out of your house without involving police? and Should you?

My no-note blog is probably not the best place to ask this question, but maybe someone will come along and answer, who knows.

So in the ideal circumstance that we abolish the police, I've been wondering about a specific scenario. Say there is a person in your home, for whatever reason, who has no legal right to be there, and you do not want them there (again, for whatever reason) but they refuse to leave and you want to forcibly remove them from your home.

Most people nowadays would threaten to call the cops on them, and usually that alone is enough to get people to leave. I've never actually had this problem myself, but I've known numerous people who've talked about these kinds of situations (and coincidentally they were all middle class, if that tells you anything...) I, personally, would think twice (or a million times) about calling the cops on someone, especially if the person in question is particularly vulnerable to police brutality. So, even if the police aren't abolished, I still want to know the proper alternative to handle this kind of situation.

I'm a pretty weak, easily overpowered person, so my first instinct would be to like.. call someone I know or go get a strong neighbor or something to help me get this person off of my property.

I know that the specifics of the situation also play a key role here, too, on how to handle it. Like, if the person is reasonable, I would hope that just telling them to leave would get them to go - easy enough. But if they refuse to move.. what do I even do? If it's someone that I know very well, I might think to take a break and just walk away from them and hope we can sort things out once we've calmed down. If it's someone that I don't know very well, though, (not even necessarily an intruder, but just say someone who is overstaying their welcome) and especially if tensions are not even high, I wouldn't really know what to do. Some states even have squatters rights, so like.. sometimes you literally CAN'T do anything about this person being in your home, and in some cases they can even get you kicked out. I think it's kind of obvious that if the person clearly has violent intentions towards me, then I have a right to defend myself, but again, I am not going to be able to do that by myself, and I don't know what the legalities are around asking for help from another citizen, i.e. not a cop, if someone means to do you harm?

And what if you do ask for help and your helper ends up injuring the person in the process of trying to get them out?? I'd imagine it's still better than calling a cop, and risking getting a life-ruining criminal record, or worse, shot and killed. But I'd also imagine there could be grounds for them to sue if they get injured by the helper since the helper is not a professional of any kind and not protected in anyway. Only some states have protections against self defense anyway, and I don't know if it even counts if you invited the person into your home willingly and they weren't being violent to begin with. Like.. if they person is just stubbornly standing there and then your burly neighbor puts hands on them first, I don't think that even counts as self defense for the homeowner? At that point if the person fights back then they have a case for self-defense.

And I don't know what the leftist attitude is towards personal property like that anyway, like should we even have a right to our own home? I don't know the leftist view on that, I get the idea that individualism is not the move, but like.. do we still have our own personal space? Space that we are allowed to bar others from entering? Even if that space extends to the entirety of a 2-bedroom home? I'm asking sincerely, because I really haven't read enough socialist theory, so I don't know what the opinions are on home ownership in general. Like in an ideal society, would we supposedly just allow the person to stay for as long as they like, as long as they aren't hurting anything? That's another part of it, like what if they aren't doing any harm but I still don't want them there? Am I wrong for wanting them to leave, even if I don't know them? Supposing even if they are an intruder, if they haven't stolen anything or hurt me or my animals, but they just... won't leave, should I even be mad about that?

But again, forget an ideal society, let's take it back to reality, assuming that I live in the US and the laws are exactly the same as they are in this moment, police are not abolished, but I am choosing to not involve the police in this matter... what is the right thing to do???? Should I just resolve myself to accept that this person lives with me now?? I don't even live in a state with squatters rights, so I don't legally have to, but.. should I? (more thoughts and anecdotes if the tags if you feel like reading)

[sunderwight]

Headcanon that Shen Yuan was hotter than Shen Qingqiu, actually.

Like yeah SQQ being a cultivator gave him a boost to enough attributes + being in a stallion novel where everyone is either unrealistic hot or dog's butt ugly got the Shen Qingqiu body extra points, and he wasn't bad looking to begin with. Plus not being ill is vastly more important to the new Shen Qingqiu than those extra hotness points (Without a Cure notwithstanding). But part of the reason why he's kind of like, meh, at least I'm not hideous or anything, is because Shen Yuan's original body was a knock out.

I also like him as chronically ill, and, as many people know, beauty standards and sustained suffering are not as incompatible as they should be. Shen Yuan was conventionally attractive in part because conventional beauty standards seem to want everyone slowly dying all the time. But even setting that aside, the man had flawless bone structure, an appealing figure, captivating eyes, and the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks.

All of which was a contributing factor to his antisocial lifestyle, actually. Despite the fact that Shen Yuan does enjoy company and requires a certain baseline of social enrichment for his enclosure, his internalized homophobia and closeting did not play well with overtures from interested parties (regardless of gender). The only way to minimize the odds of him being asked out on dates was to essentially become a shut-in, especially since even Shen Yuan can only make so many excuses before he himself starts to notice that he's going to a lot of effort to avoid specifically that avenue of socialization. Far better to just remove himself from any risk of it, and then vocally lament that oh no he's just too much of a nerd to get anywhere with women!

Anyway this largely doesn't matter much outside of sheer comedy potential for any situation where SY gets his old body/life back. Like imagine a reveal scenario where the System is going to transport them back to their old lives.

Shang Qinghua: well bro I guess this is gonna be the ultimate test of love, right?

Shen Yuan: what do you mean?

Shang Qinghua: our husbands are gonna see what we looked like back before we were glorious cultivators! they're going to have to track us down in our mundane, kinda shitty pre-transmigration lives! it's gonna be at least a little embarrassing, right?

Shen Yuan: *gets his old body back*

Shang Qinghua, normal human with average looks: ...

Shen Yuan, exemplary 11/10: ?

Shang Qinghua: what. the fuck?? bro what the fuck why are you hot???

Shen Yuan: don't make it weird

Shang Qinghua: make it weird??? why were you sitting at home reading my shitty novel when you could have been out there building your own harem???

Shen Yuan: stop exaggerating

Shang Qinghua: oh my god you've always been like this. this is it, isn't it? it wasn't even brain damage from the transmigration or something--

Shen Yuan: hey

Shang Qinghua: --you've just always been completely unaware, haven't you? every time I wrote a beautiful woman who didn't know her own appeal you'd be jumping down my throat--

Shen Yuan: because that's a stupid trope--!

Shang Qinghua: --JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT EXACTLY LIKE THAT but this whole time THIS WHOLE TIME it wasn't even a glow-up issue, you've just been that, personified, yourself--

Shen Yuan: look I know I'm not ugly but I'm not I'm hardly that good-looking

Shang Qinghua: YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO CRITICIZE THAT TROPE AGAIN! oh my god. how many broken hearts did you leave behind when you died?!

Shen Yuan: none, I wasn't even seeing anyone--

Shang Qinghua: yeah full offense but I am nottt taking your word for that. I bet you had a harem you didn't know about in this lifetime too. I bet you had a fan club, like an anime prince

Shen Yuan: *mumbling*

Shang Qinghua: what was that?

Shen Yuan: I said... only in high school...

Shang Qinghua: oh my god

Shen Yuan: it wasn't a big deal!

Shang Qinghua: *frantically trying to see if he can find any trace of it on the internet now*

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

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