#also because i didn’t make enough in time before i left | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

silaslich · 21 hours ago

Note

May I make a request for a sequel to "In A Grave so we feel safe"? Something about it scratches an itch in my brain just right. Idk why, I think I just like it when you make 'im mean. 🫣🫣

Our skin starts to rot

Simon “Ghost” Riley x afab!reader

Summary - following from this. Simon hangs around despite the way he treats you like he can’t stand you. The feeling is mutual- to a point.

Wc - 3.8k

Cw - 18+, MDNI, GHOST IS NOT NICE, reader also is not nice, vomiting/purging, referenced/implied drug+alcohol abuse, coercive behaviour, mention of past trauma, smut, fingering, oral (r!receiving), kinda better dynamic toward the end but not really

Your fingernails scrape harshly over the roof of your mouth, and when you look into the bowl of the toilet- you see red.

You gather what’s left of the bile and blood in your mouth with your tongue and spit. Wanting rid of it. Needing to be rid of every last bit of it. All the shame and the guilt and the anxiety, it’s all churned up in your stomach, bought back up with whatever you’d managed to eat last night. Tears sting your eyes from the force and effort of purging, your spine bowed as you grip the white porcelain. Everything hurts. Your body aches. There’s a headache that is pounding like a drum behind your eyes.

The weight of his stare falls over you and so does the shame. You hear him sneer.

“You’re not pregnant are you?” He doesn’t sound as concerned as he should be considering the subject of his question.

There’s a broken laugh that’s hiccuped from your lungs as you wipe your nose with the back of your hand.

“Would it matter to you if I was?” There isn’t anything he can say to make this okay, you’d be happier if he didn’t answer at all. It doesn’t even take him a second to think.

“No” it’s clipped. There’s no emotion there.

You nod to yourself but you don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. There never is. Holding a conversation with him is futile. It’s a waste of fucking breath.

He moves away, you can tell by the sound of his feet scuffing across the floor. Finally- you’re left alone. Allowed out of his sight. Not because he’s concerned, or because he cares. It’s because he wants the control. He knows that you like your own space. He knows that you don’t appreciate it when he lurks over you like a shadow. That’s exactly why he does it. It’s a tactic, like everything else he does, it’s calculated. He smarter than he looks- you’ll give him that.

He’s smart enough to know that, no, you aren’t pregnant. And there’s a very low chance of you being able to fall pregnant. You’ve had an IUD placed for as long as you’ve known him. He’s questioned you enough times about it before. Pinching the device under your skin, smirking when you wince at the pain. He’s asking to embarrass you, begging you to ask the question of what would happen between the two of you if you were in-fact pregnant with his child. He wants you to know that he wouldn’t change. That it wouldn’t make him step up or start to think about his actions.

He’s exhausting to be around, frankly, it’s a living nightmare. You thought you’d miss him. After Price had sent you packing there was a tiny part of you that really thought that you’d miss having Simon near. He’s different here than he used to be back on base or out of country. Maybe that’s because he had the others there, perhaps he didn’t want to let his true colours show for all to see. He clearly thinks very little of you, that and your opinion of him. He couldn’t care less about how you see him, how you perceive him. That does sting, just a little bit.

The water cools your skin as you wash your face, scrubbing the sleep from your eyes and brushing your teeth until your gums feel sore. This is the routine now. When he’s here at least, walking on eggshells in your own home, pretending that he doesn’t bother you as much as he does. You’re lying to yourself, and doesn’t he know it.

You emerge from your bathroom and tread back to your room to get ready for work. In the few months since he’d come crashing back into your life you’d managed to get somewhat of a hold on it again. It’s rubbish money and the hours are even worse but it helps in its own ways. You’re back to some sort of normalcy, outside of Simon and his whole existence within your life. It’s good, you hate to admit, your colleagues are nice enough and the job itself isn’t hard at all. It’s stable. It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Stacking tins and organising pasta on shelves hadn’t been a career aspiration of yours- but you’re alive.

The need for relief is better managed, if you can say that. It’s not always pretty. Some nights are better than others. Your drinking is controllable and the painkillers no longer have a death-like grip on your mind and needs. Sometimes it’s hard to stay afloat, to resist the urge to drink yourself to the point you can’t stand upright or crush tablets between your teeth and rub them into your gums with your tongue. It’s a slippery slope. You can only climb so high before a strong enough wind blows you back down, but growth is growth in your eyes. There’s a noticeable pattern too, it’s always worse when he’s around. He hardly helps the issue. He raids your cupboards and empties your work bag onto the floor every night to make sure you don’t have anything he deems as contraband. As if you’re a child.

The ironic thing is, that he wouldn’t care if it killed you, not really. Not deep down. It might inconvenience him, sure, but it wouldn’t affect him in his daily life. He’d move on to the next unfortunate soul. Hell, you’re probably not the only one he’s seeing, he’s probably already got someone else on the back burner for when you do eventually fuck your liver to the point of no return. It wouldn’t surprise you at all. Not from him.

You get ready and dress for work and head to the hallway that leads to the front door to grab your bag, you’ll sort lunch out at work, because you can hear him in the kitchen. It’s as your key slides into the lock that you hear him still in whatever he’s doing, you bite your tongue.

“I’m off to work” your voice sounds so foreign in your own ears.

There’s a few seconds of drawn out silence and you take that as your cue to leave. Then his voice cuts in again-

“Come ‘ere” it’s rough from his throat. Not yet warmed up since he’d awoken.

You grip the door handle, you could walk out so easily, pretend you haven’t heard him, but it’s hardly worth the aggravation. You leave your key abandoned in the lock and turn to make your way through the living room and toward the kitchen. It’s there that you find him leaning his hip against the counter, a mug of coffee steaming away in his hand, he’s looking right at you as you enter the space.

“Everything okay?” You ask, a brow raised. You’ll be late if he isn’t quick with whatever he wants. He raises a brow back at you.

“I said come ‘ere” he tilts his chin, eyeing up the space directly in front of him.

You blink long and hard to hide the way your eyes want to roll in your skull. You’ll definitely be late at this rate. You do as he wants, nevertheless, stepping right up to him and stopping when you feel the steam from his coffee under your nose. Practically black, as he always has it, barely a drop of milk and no sugar. He’s looking at you in that way that always manages to make you feel so small. Not physically, because that’s already a given. But small in the way that he sees you as inferior to him in every single way. You likely are, but he doesn’t have to make it so obvious to you.

“What is it?” Your temper shortens, just slightly.

His eyes narrow, he notices the shift. His free hand lifts to the side of your face, running a rough thumb over the apple of your cheek, it’s a tender gesture. On the surface level.

“Come and see Price” his voice has softened, just that little bit, the way it does when he wants you to do something he knows you won’t want to.

He wants you to believe he’s on your side. It’s immediate the way you shake your head, he hadn’t even finished speaking.

“Simon- we’ve already talked about this” your patience is thinned to almost nothing. He could have said something earlier, long before you’re walking out the door to catch the next bus.

“Yeah, and you’re not seeing it from my perspective” he eyes you from over his nose, again, making you feel small. There’s a sour taste at the back of your throat.

“When do you ever try to see things from my perspective?” You raise your chin, if he wants an argument over this, you worry he’ll get what he’s after.

He brings his mug to his lips, staring at you from over the lip of it.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever stooped low enough to see things from your point of view, sweetheart” you can’t see his lips but you’re convinced you’d see a smirk there if you could. Your fists clench at your sides.

“I find that very hard to believe” you know little of Simon’s past, but you know enough to know that he is indeed lying. It’s another tactic, another way to get under your skin and piss you off. For his own pure enjoyment.

“Yeah? Try me” he lowers his mug and places it on the counter. His full attention on you. He folds his arms over his bare chest, his tattoos right in your line of sight.

There’s only so low that you’re willing to go, but whatever you say- you know that Simon will have something worse to say about you. That’s just a given with him.

“No no you’re right” you wave him off, stepping out of his space and turning to face the windows across the living room.

A beat of silence.

“Tommy was the druggie, right? Not you”

It’s audible, the way his jaw clicks. You don’t move.

“That’s right” his voice is flat, but you know him well enough to know that he’s annoyed, pissed beyond belief. Maybe not at what you’ve said, but that you’ve dared to say anything at all.

“Means I know a lost cause when I see one” you hear his body shift, the way his right shoulder clicks. Adjusting his stance.

You nod, silently. That’s his perception of you. It hardly rings true, a few months ago? Maybe. Now? You give yourself enough credit to know that you’re doing the right thing. Keeping this job. Not crawling back to Price. It settles the nagging feeling in your chest. You’re trying, at least. Making an effort.

“Why are you still here?” Still- you don’t turn to face him.

You keep your eyes glued to the way the world ticks by outside the window, there’s satisfaction in knowing he can’t see just how unbothered you are at his words. Before, you would have given him what he wanted and cried. Would have screamed and shouted in his face. An accusing finger pressed into his chest. You’d spat at him, once. Then he’d grab you and pull you close, pressing your snotty tear-stained face into the flesh of his chest and make a spectacle of soothing you. Telling you how he forgives you, how he knows it’s the booze and drugs talking- not you. He’d say that you’ll feel better in the morning and tug you into bed or towards the nearest waist-level surface and fuck you raw and slow and everlasting until you’re a puddle of nothing. Dumb and boneless- everything he already believes you to be.

He makes a noise. One that if it were translated into English, it would sound like ‘what the fuck are you on about?’

“I asked you why you’re here”

“Yeah, I heard you” his tone stiffens, it’s clear he doesn’t have an answer for you, therefore- he won’t answer.

There’s a few moments where the silence tells. There’s the sound of a car horn blaring outside and the birds that live in the gutter above your window chirp and sing, it’s the way life just keeps humming away- despite everything. Despite it all.

Simon moves and you stay stood still. You turn your head, watching out the corner of your eye as he walks toward you, he doesn’t look you in the eye. Instead looking out of the window as you had been. You follow his line of sight, watching the same cyclist ride past as he does.

“You treat me like shit y’know” you don’t know why you’ve said it. The thought had just been there, at the front of your mind and the tip of your tongue.

He turns his head, just slightly, to look at you. You feel his eyes- they burn.

“I treat everyone like shit” he returns his gaze to the glass, hands slid into the pockets of his trackie bottoms.

You laugh. It breezes past your lips so easily, so freely. You turn your gaze to him, noticing the way his jaw hardens when you do.

“No you don’t” you don’t take your eyes away from his face. You can’t.

For a moment you remember who he is- what he is. And in that moment you find yourself feeling sorry for him. Maybe he deserves more credit, because he could treat you a lot worse, realistically. It’s the one thing you tell yourself when he’s around, that he could be so much worse. It’s not a defence, no, it’s a lifeline. He’s suffered as you have and maybe that’s why you let him treat you the way he does, because that’s what you think you’re worth. Rough hands and sharp words and glaring eyes. It rolls off your back better these days, it’s easier to shrug off.

Simon hums, he’s caught out and he knows it.

“No- no I don’t” he rolls his shoulders until the right one cracks- again.

You bite the tip of your tongue. There’s so much you need to say to him and it’s never the right time or circumstance. You walk on eggshells around him because you can’t deal with the consequences of his temper and his irrationality. For someone who commands a platoon and leads so naturally, he’s the most pig-headed man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t want to hear your opinion or listen to you explain your point, even if he knows you’re right and he’s wrong.

“Why are you really here?” You’re still looking at him and your chest squeezes when he casts his eyes to the side, barely eyeing you. You’ve always loved his eyes.

They soften, if only slightly, it shows he’s considering the question. That he might not shrug it off like he does everything else.

“I don’t know” Simon’s voice carries that lilt to it, the one that reminds you of the man you’d first welcomed into your home- into your bed. Soft voice and attentive hands. Like he could actually stand being near you.

For a few seconds, it’s as if the world outside stops. The birds aren’t chirping and the traffic has cleared. Even the breeze stills, there’s nothing but the sounds of the both of you breathing. Out of sync. Always.

There’s a weight that dislodges from your chest. You didn’t realise you’d been carrying it for so long. Ultimately burdened by it. You haven’t got any answers, none that would clear away the ache in your heart when he looks at you in that knowing way. But somehow, there’s a satisfaction to knowing that he’s as lost as you are, the same way that you don’t understand why you let him stay- he doesn’t know why he stays either.

He stiffens slightly when he feels you at his side. Head and left shoulder pressed into his ribs and arm respectively. He quickly slackens his muscles, leaning into you slightly.

“We’re as bad as each other” the words are a little incoherent, your cheek smushed against his arm.

You’re not bothered if he hears it or not at this point. It wouldn’t matter. You only know he’s heard you by the way he sighs, craning his neck to lean the side of his head against the top of yours.

“I’m afraid I’m worse” he says it matter-of-factly. It’s the truth, to him.

“Much worse” his voice dies away, slightly. Not as though he’s embarrassed by the words, but perhaps because he knows you’re acutely aware.

You’re fully aware that he’s worse than you, in every sense of the fucking word. You’ve been sugar coating things, telling him what he wants to hear instead of what he needs to hear. He can appreciate that to a point. But he doesn’t need it. He doesn’t need the softness. That sentiment had been beaten out of him long ago, long before the Army sank its claws into him too. He knows what’s right and what’s wrong, it’s as if he doesn’t have the ability to physically stop himself from doing and saying things he doesn’t mean. In a military setting he can be loud and brash and rude; it’s his job. He spends his days as someone else’s superior, telling them when they can and can’t piss, telling them where and when they will die- essentially.

It’s hard for him to kick that habit when he’s out of that setting. When lives aren’t on the line. Yet, you’re right; he doesn’t treat Price or Gaz or Johnny that way. He can’t explain why, and that’s worse than if he could. He’s just a bad person, that’s what it ultimately boils down to at the end of the day.

It’s all he can think of as he takes you by the hand, watching your wide eyes watch him; pushing you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the sofa. Somehow, it’s different, for reasons he can’t think of. Simon Riley has never been a religious man-

Is this what repenting feels like?

He handles you differently, in his own way. The way he thinks he knows how. When he removes your clothes he’s no longer chasing something, that deep-dark spot in his vision that blurs his rationality is gone.

It’s too late for redemption- to prove that he can be something he’s not; because he can’t. He’d be lying and you know that, so you won’t ask that of him, you wouldn’t expect it either.

He holds your gaze as he presses his lips to the mound of your pussy. He watches how your chest heaves, sucking in air through your mouth, like a deer in headlights. This is so foreign from him, the tenderness, the gentleness of his hands and his mouth. No gnashing teeth or bruising fingers. There’s only featherlight touches- to begin with.

Simon warms you up the way he should. Sliding his tongue through the lips of your pussy, gathering the wetness he finds already there- he hasn’t even started with you yet, not really. There’s a slight smile that creeps up the side of his mouth at that. You tell him how much you hate him, but he has this effect on you; that in itself calls your bluff.

He listens to the way your breath stutters, feeling the way your hips cant into the wait of his mouth when he slows down or stops completely. Your juices are smeared across his lips and down his chin, he rubs his face into your pussy, slathering himself in your wetness. He wants to smell you on his skin tomorrow when he leaves, because he will leave, if you really want him to.

“Oh- oh fuck” he plucks these sounds out of you so easily.

He curls two thick fingers into the tightness of your cunt, reeling at how easy your pussy sucks him in. So needy. So eager for anything he’ll give. He watches his digits disappear, barely wanting to take his eyes off of yours but needing to visualise the feeling of your tight hole sucking him in, clamping like a vice around his fingers as he fucks them deeper inside of you.

“There?” He asks, curling his fingers, watching you nod your head wildly.

“So wet f’me” his voice drags, drunk on your pussy.

It’s like electricity hits his bones when he presses his mouth to you again, lapping at your clit while he continues to pump his fingers into you. Matching rhythm. Swirling his tongue, beckoning you with the wet muscle in his mouth, luring you to the edge. When you curl your fingers into the length of hair at the top of his head, that’s when he’s really spurred on. Letting you rub your pussy all over his face, burying his nose in the mound of flesh there, nipping teeth when you get too bold for his liking- because he’s still in charge here.

“Soo desperate” he tries to be cruel with his tone but it goes right over your head.

He feels the way your walls clamp around his fingers. The way your breathing grows ragged, sloppy thrusts of your hips against his mouth and tongue, pushing yourself closer and closer to the edge as Simon fights to pull you there.

“Oh- a-a fuck Si” you’re a stuttering mess. “M’close-”

You’re practically gushing when you cum. He laps at you like he hasn’t before, listening to cries of his own name that bounce off the walls. The sounds of your pussy oozing against his mouth make his cock leak in his boxers. Hard and untouched. He stutters his hips, seeking any kind of friction.

There isn’t any; but watching and feeling you squirm under him like this is a new found thing. He’s had you on your back more times than he can think to count. Yet, none have felt like this- not even in the early days when things were right between the two of you.

Maybe it’s because things have indeed shifted, that maybe you’ve solidified your belief that you deserve better - that this might be it for him.

Even when you almost pull his hair from the roots, riding his nose as he rides you through your orgasm. Your spine arching off the sofa cushion, needing more despite the fact that he’s given you everything.

“Oh -Simon” it’s hissed through your teeth. He’s doing too much now, clamping his fingers into your thighs, not wanting to let go.

It’s the greediness in him. He wants too much of everything, he has no control. There isn’t that little voice in his head that tells him he’s had enough, that he’s done enough. Not that he would listen to it.

He finally lets up, leaning back on his heels, still knelt between your thighs. Eyes watching yours, you’re staring up at the ceiling. Eyes hooded, lips agape, breath ragged- he can’t help but think you look beautiful.

So why has he never said it before?

He leans his cheek against your thigh, eyes still watching your face, then you feel them- feel his gaze. Your eyes snap to his and for a moment, you look remorseful. Then you open your mouth to speak-

“We’re still not friends”

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rnadett · 2 days ago

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Here is your Big Fat Hero- Cailtyn 'defender' post

I somehow get that you think Caitlyn went too far, but so did the fandom. A lot of you talk about her as a 'dictator' and compare her use of The Grey to make her sound like Hitler, it seems people forget that she purposely used it only on her targets, not on civilians or all of Zaun. In fact, she even did a bit of a favor for Zaunites in the long term.

So let’s start analyzing the important aspects in a somewhat objective way. (Don’t mind my profile picture—I promise I'll try to be objective… or maybe not, who knows?)

EVEN after her mother died, Caitlyn still tried to protect the innocent in Zaun and tried to convincing the council not to start an invasion.

She even disagreed with Vi’s opinion on using the gauntlet (Hextech as a weapon), which we saw when she discussed it with Jayce.

This was her last scene before the attack on the memorial.

After that, we can clearly see how much it affected her; it fueled her anger (Good job, Ambessa—a true politician! No wonder Mel learned from her - except she is using it for better reasons). Yet, her anger wasn’t directed at civilians or all of Zaun.

Even then, she managed to call off the invasion, which she didn’t support in the first place. And after the attack, Vi talked her down in just two minutes—a point that hasn’t gotten enough credit, especially since it was her mother’s memorial.

This scene is also telling: there’s a storm brewing inside her, and while she wants to do the right thing, like protecting innocents from war, events escalate too quickly for her to reason through them and find a solution alone. Vi staying as her only remaining pillar in all this madness.

But yeah, her anger hasn’t faded just jet, but with Vi, they found an alternative—morally gray, but still better than risking a massacre between Zaun and Piltover.

And this is what they did. In the clip at the beginning of Episode 3, we see that they targeted ONLY gang members, not civilians in Zaun. I need to mention this a few times because there's already a misconception that Caitlyn and Vi are targeting or harming civilians.

But if you look at every frame, you’ll only see them going after gang members responsible for suffering and exploitation—Margot's and Chross's gangs, for example.

Oh, and let’s not forget, these were the people Isha was running from in the first place. A children!

So, Overall, this is just a continuation of what Vi tried to do in Season 1, but now with Caitlyn instead of Jayce (or alone).

So why does Caitlyn get all the blame?

As I see it, these actions were not hers alone; Vi was part of it too. In fact, this was Vi’s original plan (except the Jinx part, of course).

So, the point of my post is this: Yes, Caitlyn is heading in a bad direction, and killing—even gang members— with gas isn’t a good thing. But at this point, she and Vi haven’t harmed innocents. Despite how it looks, at least these actions prevent more innocent children, like Isha, from being harmed. Another question is where things will go now that Caitlyn has pushed Vi away (which I think was her only truly wrong action in Act 1).

Now Ambessa has taken Vi's place (in meaning of influence, not in any other way you little pervert) , and rather than calming her, Ambessa will fuel Caitlyn’s anger, grief, and self-hatred even more.

Oh my god, I love this scene. You can see the micro-expression on Ambessa's face, how satisfied she is, knowing how good she’s pulling the strings so far.

But I think we all feel that this match is far from over.

I also leave this here:

In the end, though, I believe that Caitlyn, no matter who’s currently influencing her, will have to decide her own path and who she truly is—without relying on anyone else. Even if we love her with Vi, this is something she needs to figure out ALONE.

Anyway, I might have written more in detail if Tumblr didn’t have a 10-image/post limit. Maybe I’ll make another post about the things I left out or would have expanded on.

#caitlyn kiramman #caitvi #arcane #arcane vi #vi arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane season 2 spoilers #ambessa medarda #mel medarda #jinx #jinx arcane #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane spoilers #arcane s2 #arcane discussion

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bi-bi-buckleys · 48 minutes ago

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Here’s a quick fic I wrote when I was meant to be working. I refuse to accept this new version of Maddie the writers are trying to sell us. Posting before the episode airs so I can live in denial a little longer ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maddie had just walked out of her favorite local cafe with a modified version of her favorite latte (decafe, low fat sugar free vanilla, ugh) when she sees someone familiar sitting at one of the outdoor tables to her right.

“Tommy!”

Maddie forgot. Just for a second. Just for the split second it took her to say his name. Oh right. You’re not dating my brother anymore.

Oops.

Tommy looks at her like a deer in headlights. He recovers quickly enough and stands from the table.

“Hey, Maddie! How are you?” He’s trying to sound chipper, but after he hugs her she sees the sadness haunting his eyes.

“I’m doing well, how are you?”

“I’m….I’m ok.”

It’s a lie and they both know it.

“How’s Ev-Buck?”

“Heartbroken. Baking every time he thinks to call you. His fridge is packed.”

Tommy smiles sadly and Maddie feels a stab of guilt for telling her brother to move on. She thought Tommy left because he didn’t love Buck, but that’s not the feeling she’s getting right now.

“He asked me to move in with him. But he never said he loved me. He said he admired me.” Tommy blurts out like he hasn’t had a chance to really talk about it.

“Oh.” She didn’t know that part.

“Yeah. And the thing is, I love him. So much. I would love him to be my forever. He’s sweet, and funny, and smart, and ridiculous, and even covered in boils he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He’s everything to me. But how can I commit to moving in with a man who asks me to move in because he admires me? Because what happens when he realizes he doesn’t love me the same way I love him? It wouldn’t just break my heart, Maddie: it would destroy it.”

Maddie can’t see through the tears in her eyes. She’s never heard anyone talk so earnestly about loving her little brother before. She can tell Tommy really means it. He broke both of their hearts that night.

“Sometimes my brother thinks that by saying one thing, the other thing is implied. He gets ahead of himself. I’m sure you’ve noticed that, for as smart as he is, his train of thought can be kinda all over the place.”

Tommy laughs, but it's sad and full of just how much he misses Buck.

“He says he can see a future with you, and I’ve never heard him say that before. He also said your happiness is as important to him as his own. Tommy, he wants to call you so bad but he’s terrified of you turning him down again. He’s been hurt before, but I’ve never seen him this miserable. You should talk to him. I’m not saying move in with him, but I think you should hear what he has to say. And I think you should believe him.”

“Is he working right now?”

“Nope. Last I heard he was making a pineapple upside down bundt cake.”

“Wow.”

“I know. Seriously, his fridge is packed. It’s concerning.”

“Thanks, Maddie. I’m gonna go talk to him.”

Maddie gives him a hug and watches as he practically runs to his car. She laughs and wipes the tears from her eyes. She starts to think that maybe the universe did give her brother his special person after all.

~~~

Later she gets a call

“So you talked to Tommy?” Buck whispers.

“I did. I told him to talk to you.”

“What happened to ‘move on’?”

“That was before he told me all the things he loves about you and that ‘even covered in boils, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Buck gives a small laugh, and she can tell he’s blushing. “He uh, h-he really said that?”

“Yes he did. Word for word. So, did you talk?”

“Yeah we uh- we talked. For a long time. About everything.” His voice was even quieter now, but she could hear his happiness.

She knows the answer before she asks, “Why are you whispering?”

“Because Tommy’s asleep next to me.” Maddie can practically see the smile on his face.

“I’ll let you get some sleep, too then.”

“Yeah, I think I probably should,” Buck laughs and Maddie rolls her eyes at the wink wink tone of his voice.

“Goodnight, Evan.”

“Night, Maddie. Oh, uh hey…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

After they hang up, Maddie can’t stop smiling. Knowing her brother is happy and loved by someone who was willing to put his heart on the line for him. Someone who loves him so much it scares him. Someone who realizes what he walked away from, and went back despite knowing it could end in pain.

Yeah. She’s pretty certain Tommy is Buck’s special person.

#911 #fanfic #bucktommy

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boytearscore · 21 hours ago

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his obsession, her control. — matthew sturniolo.

summary: because ever since he met his brothers' best friend, he hated her to the core by the way she dressed, talked and presented herself. he thought she was just an attention seeker while claiming to be the only immune guy to her dirty games. that is until the morning chris and nick decided to go out and get groceries by themselves, since matt himself refused to drive them to target, he was left all alone with her, unfortunately for the blue eyed boy, his strong belief of being an exception when it comes to fall for her dangerous charm was completely erroneous.

warnings: swearing, teasing/arguing (matt being a jerk mostly), enemies to lovers but sort of he hates her while she finds his tantrums amusing, smut, bratty!matt, blowjob, facefucking, foreplay, agressiveness and a lot of dirtytalk.

author’s note: before y’all start to hate me, i came home from work yesterday and had NO wifi nor data to post the chapter. still, i apologize for the delay. also, comment and tell me what you think about this new plot, the main character is gonna teach you that just because a girl is dominating, doesn’t mean she can’t play the submissive role to get her ways faster. ;)

chapter one.

the girl sighs slowly spreading her legs over the couch, it’s been only ten minutes since chris and nick left and she already felt like melting with boredom, not finding anything or anyone interesting to see or text on her phone.

her eyes shift slowly around the house, stopping right at the door slightly open of matthew’s room, her best friends’ annoying brother. it’s been years and she still didn’t believe they were triplets, how can matt be so awfully different from them? usually she doesn’t interact much with him except when he gives her disappointing and judging glares while they’re both in the same room. instead of angering her, she always finds it amusing and always provoke him until he’s red with anger.

that’s when the brilliant idea pops up in her pretty little head, what if she breaks into matt’s room to make him absolutely lose his shit? that’s enough to entertain her while her best friends are out for a couple hours, right?

while tiptoeing and holding a mischievous laugh, she peeks through the gap to study her target. matt is resting, laying on his bed with hair falling over his eyes and still wearing his pyjamas even though it was afternoon, his arm behind his neck making his muscles visibly flexed by the position, at the same time the other one is placed over his stomach, scrolling on his phone peacefully.

she stares at his tattoos and the veins of his arm, it wasn’t a secret matt was attractive, in fact, she didn’t feel the need to say otherwise because one; hating him wasn’t a possibility, she couldn’t care less about his childish behavior, it was actually pretty funny and that gave her lots of opportunities to tease him. and two: nothing was more satisfying than seeing his jaw clenched and his bratty attitude rising when she provoked him.

“get out.” he says without looking at the door, being able to feel her presence due to her sweet and addicting scent.

she chuckles, entering and closing the door behind her calmly. “you know… i wasn’t gonna stay but now that you told me to get out...” her exposed legs by the black miniskirt make its way to his bed, sitting on the edge, her smooth skin complimenting the white sheets while her skirt molded perfectly her thighs.

matt rolls his eyes again “i don't care what you do, just don't bother me while i’m trying to relax.” he continues on his phone, not even glancing at the girl’s relaxed figure. “what do you want, anyway? nick and chris had enough of you and now you came here to annoy me? you’re really good at that, you know.“ he smirks sarcastically.

“oh, i’m very aware.” she crawls to the other edge of the bed close to the wall, leaning against it, her legs brushing against his feet slightly without her noticing.

matt, however, did notice it. in fact, his whole shivered body noticed it.

“and don’t pretend like you hate it when i’m here.”

the blue eyed boy scoffs and moves his feet away from her. “oh, i don’t have to pretend, i can barely stand being in the same room as you most of the time.” he sets his phone down and finally looks at her, giving her the a once-over with his typical critical eye, he stares at her tank top and then at her uncovered stomach and thighs. “what’s with the short skirt, huh? trying to impress someone? it’s not like anyone here would be interested in a girl like you, anyway.” matt smirks arrogantly. “especially not me. so you can stop trying so hard, it’s pathetic.”

“it’s fucking 95° degrees.” she replied with her usual nonchalant tone while grabbing her phone to check her lip gloss. “and i wouldn’t be so sure about that, your friends are more than interested. everytime they come here to hangout with you, they spend more time thirsting over me than talking to your boring ass.” she added, drawing her lips with a finger and laughing a little at her own comment at the same time. matt finds himself glazing at her lips, the way she draws her reddish glossy flesh with her finger without a worry, like her moves were calculated. to him, it seemed like she doesn’t feel anything, no matter what he says.

he snaps from the trance, shaking his head and frowning at her words.

his friends indeed spend more time eating her alive with their eyes than paying attention to him when she is around with nick and chris, which made matt crazy with rage. all of the groans and death glares he gives her every single time just proving her point without needing to add much.

matt finally narrows his eyes, anger building inside him little by little. “don’t even fucking start with them. they’re too good for your stupid annoying personality.” he leans back against his headboard, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares at the girl pointedly. “it doesnt matter, you’re just asking for attention dressed like that, regardless. typical slutty behavior from a girl like you.” the boy sneers derisively. “probably hoping one of us will bend you over and teach you a lesson, huh? too bad. i have standards, unlike my idiotic friends, apparently... they’ll fuck anything that moves. not me though. i need a real woman, not some immature whore.” he smirks cruelly. “unluckily for you, i’m not interested in sloppy seconds. or thirds.”

oh, the good and old fragile masculinity. the girl smirks, her eyes shifting to dark manner.

“is that so?” she leans over his legs, placing both hands on his tights covered by his grey sweatpants, her long black nails digging slightly into his skin while her penetrating gaze stares at his soul, the boy’s body tensed up and she scoffs. “what’s wrong? are you too insecure to handle a confident woman?” matt freezes for a second almost vocally responding to the sensation of her nails digging into his flesh, he swallows avoiding her eyes with a mix of rage and anticipation.

the girl studies his expression, feeling his tights tensing up more and more underneath her fingers. she bends back to her previous spot laughing quietly, her unbothered expression and nonchalant tone still not changing. “if you think that a piece of fabric defines a woman’s worth then you’re nothing but a virgin little boy who probably gets hard watching cartoons.” she gets up, walking towards the door, turning her head to face him before leaving. “you know… there’s a big difference between being an asshole and just a straight up sexist. i was wrong about you and sadly not in a good way.” she opens the door and closes it behind her, calmly walking to the living room and sitting on the huge white couch once again. the girl unlocks her phone, scrolling without paying attention to the screen. mentally, she was counting the seconds to see matthew’s figure bursting out of his room and scream at the top of his lungs. the corner of her mouth quirked up with excitement.

meanwhile, matthew stares blankly at her ghost in front of him, processing her words. he grits his teeth, face turning red with anger.

the tall boy jumps up from the bed and storms out of the room after her, heading straight to the living room, her calm and collected mannerism making his neck vein pop up with annoyance. “fuck you! you don't know shit about me!” matt stands in front of the girl, hands on his hips as he glares down at where she sits on the couch. “i’m not insecure nor a virgin, you stupid cunt! and i’m not a little boy either! i’m a grown-ass man who knows what he wants! unlike you, who clearly has no self-respect dressing like a fucking hooker.” his voice is rising with each word, his temper flaring out of control. he takes a step closer, looming over her menacingly.

she laughs amusedly, getting up from the couch without a hush, her eyes not backing down from his one second.

their faces are inches apart, his nostrils flare as she invades his personal space, his breath hitching slightly at how close she is. he can smell her scent again with the mix of her mint warm breath hitting his face and watch the flecks of pure darkness in her eyes. it makes him even angrier that she affects him this way.

“then why are you yelling and being so defensive?” she tilts her head, pursing her lips to mock him. “did i hit a nerve, little boy?”

matt laughs sarcastically, rubbing his face in frustration.

“i’m not defensive, you fucking psycho! i’m pissed off because you're a delusional bitch who thinks she can talk to people however she wants without consequences!” his voice drops to a low growl as he stares intensely into her eyes, his own blazing with fury and something else he refuses to acknowledge. “think you're so sly, so above everyone else, huh? sorry to break your little ‘i don’t care’ attitude but you're nothing special. just another dumb slut looking for a man to put you in your place.” matt reaches out and grips her chin roughly, forcing her to maintain eye contact with him. she gasps with his aggressiveness while smirking, still not being affected by his words.

“oh, i don’t think i’m above anyone else.” she leads her hand to his chest, creeping up to the neck and he tightens the grip on her chin, his pulse racing beneath her fingers. “i just think i’m better than guys who judges people based on clothes. you know? the ones who probrably will stay alone and horny forever?” her challenge only fuels his anger further and he leans in even closer until their noses are nearly touching, making her smirk wider. ”guys like… you.” he groans, sliding his other hand up to wrap around her throat loosely, applying just enough pressure in an attempt to make her submit once and for all, but it was too late. she was getting inside his head without even trying too much and he had no idea. “see, you’re calling me a slut for the way i dress but i bet you can’t name one guy i’ve dated.’’

“you’re right, i don't know who you've fucked. but i know your type, always throwing yourself at guys, desperate for validation. you probably spread your legs for the first dick that shows interest, don't you?” he replies right away, his words heavy with irritation. “face it, sweetheart - you're a pathetic little tease who gets off on driving guys crazy. well, congratulations, mission accomplished. you’re driving ME crazy alright... but not in the way you wanted.”

the girl lets out a small giggle, ignoring all the offensive comments, her mind floating with the thought of all the words she’s gonna make him swallow later. this by itself was awfully turning her on, but she manages to hide it well by her unconcerned expression.

“it’s so funny the way you’re affected by my words while trying so hard not to show it.” the girl takes her hand away from his neck, crossing her arms. “and i didn’t even try anything. i just replied to your brainless incel comments and you got mad because you have nothing else to say besides calling me an attention seeker.” she shrugs, her gaze still on him while she feels his fingers flexing around her slender throat.

matt snorts derisively at her words, her neck veins pulsing underneath his digits. he knows she's affected by him too, no matter how much she tries to hide it.

‘’oh please, spare me the bullshit. you live for this kind of thing… pissing people off, pushing buttons until they snap. well, i’m not falling for your sick games.’’ he releases her abruptly and steps back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. his heart pounds wildly in his chest but he refuses to let it show on his face.“get the hell out of my sight before i do something we both regret. trust me, you don't want to test me right now. i’m not one of your little boy toys to play with whenever you feel bored.’’

the corner of her lips went up with a smirk, she quietly sneaks behind matt who is currently facing his door, trying to control the anger and arouse inside him.

the girl lifts her feet up a little to reach his ear. “and what exactly are we going to regret, matt?” she whispers, brushing her lips against his lobe.

matt freezes as he feels her warm breath ghosting over his ear, her lips barely grazing his skin. every muscle in his body tenses, his fists clenching at his sides as he fights the urge to grab her and throw her onto the nearest surface.

‘’fuck you, get off me!’’ he snaps, shrugging her off roughly and spinning around to face her. his eyes blaze with barely contained lust and fury as he backs her up against the wall, caging her in with his arms. ‘’fine. let's play this fucking game, but don’t fool yourself. this is MY game, not yours. see if you can handle the consequences.’’ matt leans in, capturing her mouth in a brutal kiss before biting at her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, she moans with the mixture of pain and pleasure, the taste of blood only making her more aroused by second.

her arms wrap around his neck, one hand reaches his hair, grabbing and pulling back in a sharp grip to make him face her. “is that all you can do?” she asks, gasping with her mouth slightly open, a little blood stain painting her swallowed lips red. “guess i was right about you just being a virgin little boy.” the girl smirks, tightening the grip on his hair more aggressively, a low growl rumbles in matt's chest, the sharp sting only serving to inflame his desire further.

he presses himself fully on her, grinding his already hard cock against her hip as he grabs both wrists and pins them above her head roughly. ‘’you fucking tease, you have no idea what i’m capable of.’’ he rasps, trailing biting kisses along her jawline and down her neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. “i could ruin you in ways you never imagined. make you beg while screaming my name to the whole fucking neighborhood to listen.’’ matt nips sharply at her collarbone before soothing the sting with his tongue, laving the abused flesh with long strokes. his free hand slides down to grope her breast roughly through the thin fabric of her top, tweaking her nipple between his fingers.

she gasps, lifting her leg up between his legs, her hands still pinned above her head. “you’re just talk.” she scoffs, brushing her knee against his hard cock and he tilts his head back, lips parted with a whimper before he turns back to her, closing the gap between their bodies even more while sliding up the grip on her wrists, making her moan with the pain of her muscles being stretched aggressively. “i dare you to destroy me, matthew. even though i know you won’t get even close.” she looks up at him with a burning gaze, a unreadable expression in her face.

his eyes darken with sadistic glee at her challenge, a wicked smirk twisting his lips. matt releases her wrists abruptly and grips the hem of her black tight top, tearing it open with one swift motion to expose her bra-clad breasts, she moans and whimpers against his mouth, finally feeling her arms free. the flimsy lace provides little barrier as he palms the soft mounds roughly, rolling her sensitive nipples between his fingers. ‘’want to be destroyed, you fucking slut? i’ll give you what you asking for.’’ he captures her mouth again in a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue as he plunders her depths ruthlessly. the blue eyed boy hands roam her body greedily, squeezing and caressing every curve as he grinds his aching erection against her hip bone.

she breaks the kiss with heavy breathing, her lips still brushing against his. “yet you seem more affected than me.” she leads a hand to his hard cock, caressing it, matt immediately lets out a strangled groan as she gropes his straining dick through the cotton fabric of the sweatpants, his hips jerking involuntarily into her touch. “so hard…” her hand squeezes the covered length ruthlessly, leaning to his neck and sucking his pale skin, she smiles noticing the instant harsh red hickeys. “it seems like you’re the slut.” she brings a hand to his face, slapping it slightly before grabbing his face and pulling closer to hers. “and you didn’t even need to dress like me to be one, did you?” she giggles, sucking his bottom lips before biting it without mercy to bruise him just like he did to her.

“shut your fucking mouth.” her teasing words send a fresh wave of fury crashing through him and he grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back roughly to bare the column of her throat to his hungry mouth. “you have no idea what you're talking about.” he snarls against her skin before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh, marking her with his hatred and desire. the other hand slides under her skirt to cup her ass possessively, kneading the firm globe. “i’m gonna fuck that smart mouth of yours until you choke on my cock. show you what a real man can do.“

she chuckles, her eyes glaring at him with challenge. “a real man, huh?” she slowly drop to her knees, calmly tracing her fingers over his sweatpants and pulling down just enough, his hard cock jumps over her face and matt breath catches in his throat watching the scene before his eyes, her hot mouth hovering mere inches from his very erected member. “no underwear at home? how slutty of you.” she chuckles, leaning against his pink tip covered with precum and licking it while her lustful eyes gazed at his face. “let’s see if you’re just all talk or not.”

his lips turns from a gasp to a smirk with her words, he tangles his fingers in her hair, gripping tightly as he guides her face closer to his straining erection. “open wide, you whore. show me how good you can suck dick.” he demands gruffly, rubbing the leaking tip across her full lips. “if you do a decent job, maybe i’ll consider letting you ride my cock later. would you like that, princess? to have me splitting your cunt open with my cock?”

matt pushes past her lips without waiting for a response, sliding deep into the welcoming heat of her mouth with a guttural moan.

she begins to take him all inside her mouth, reaching the throat right away while sucking vigorously, her tongue twisting around his tip when reaching the top before sliding back down deep in her cavity. her eyes already flooding with tears thanks to the aggressive contact of his large dick hitting the back of her throat multiple times, she’s looking at him with siren eyes while her nails were scratching and digging on his thighs.

matt throws his head back with a loud groan as the girl takes him with all effort, her throat constricting deliciously around his sensitive cock. the tears finally stream down her flushed cheeks as she struggles to accommodate his size, but she doesn't pull away, instead doubling her efforts to please him. “just like that. take it all, you filthy little cockslut.” he praises roughly, holding her head steady as he begins to thrust shallowly into her mouth, fucking her face with increasing intensity. “your mouth was made for sucking my dick, wasn't it? bet you love having your throat used like this, being choked on my thick cock.”

he picks up speed, slamming into her mouth brutally as he chases his release.

meanwhile she sucks him more, putting more pressure and taking him even deeper, her tears continuously falling down her pink cheeks and her makeup all smudge over under eyes still glued to his.

that sight of her was way too much for him, matt smirks to himself. feeling proud of dominating the girl who never backs down to anyone. her tear-streaked face, the makeup running down her cheeks as she takes his cock like a submissive whore sends matt hurtling towards the edge. with a roar, he buries himself balls-deep in her throat and holds her there as he erupts, flooding her mouth with spurt after spurt of hot cum.

“swallow it all, don't you dare spill a single drop.” he growls, keeping her trapped on his twitching shaft as he rides out the waves of his intense orgasm. “fuck, such a good cumdump. you’ve earned yourself a reward. now get up and bend over the kitchen counter. it’s time for me to fuck your little wet pussy.”

the girl swallows everything slowly holding back a smirk while savoring the taste of winning against a fucking asshole, she already won and her game didn’t even start yet.

slowly, she gets up in front of him, wipping the saliva off her chin and the melted makeup under her eyes. her hair beautifully messy and her shining eyes by the tears giving matthew the brief satisfaction, but quickly he shifts his mocking smile to a frown when she smirks and get closer to him.

“you’re not gonna fuck me, matt.” she announces, placing a finger on his chin. “because all i needed to do was pretend to be submissive for a split second for you to think that i was playing your little game, but in reality, you were playing mine this whole time.” she chuckles, releasing his chin with a harsh push with her finger, his head turn to the side while his jaw clenched. “you said you’re not like the other guys but you fell for my tricks just like they do.” she fixes her clothes, walking to the couch and sitting there with her legs crossed, the wetness of her pussy making her a little uncomfortable, but she brushes it off continuing her line of thoughts. “i wouldn’t be mad though, i just gave you the best orgasm of your life, didn’t i?” she asks, tilting her head while smiling.

he stares at her with his mouth open as she saunters away, ignoring his demand to present herself for him to ravage. she was right, no girl ever made him feel that amount of pleasure in his life but of course he was not gonna tell her that.

matt sighs, anger and arousal war within him as he watches her swinging her feet on the couch as if nothing happened.

“the fuck do you think you're doing? come here and bend over your fucking ass so i can destroy your soaking wet cunt.” he warns darkly, stalking towards her with murderous intent in his eyes. “you don't get to tease me like that and then just walk away. this is not how this works, i will have you begging for my cock before we're done today, mark my words.“

reaching the couch, matt grabs the girl roughly by the arm and hauls her to her feet.

“you’re the one begging to fuck me, matt.” she says smirking, his tight grip on her arm making her feel the need to provoke him more. “i mean, if you’re right about me opening my legs to every guy, i guess you’re the only one not getting it. and yet you’re here, wanting so bad to feel my pussy around your dick.” she places a hand over his cheek, caressing it with a fake sense of care. “you’re pathetic…” her thumb slowly slides to his lips, drawing it slightly while the boy shivered, not knowing which emotion to focus, horniness or ego bruised. “but that’s okay, i love pathetic men, they stand exactly where i want.” she slowly inserts a finger inside his mouth and matt opens it without even noticing. “that’s it…” she whispers, pressing his tongue with enough pressure to make him groan.

he is paralyzed again, all this new sensations eating his masculinity and dominance alive, her mocking words stoking the flames of his fury higher but at the same time he wants to give him to the pleasure but quickly recovering to protect his pride.

he grabs her wrist in an iron grip, still feeling the taste of her thumb in his mouth while the other hand acts quickly, seizing her waist against his torso, trapping her between the hard surface nearest wall and his muscular body.

“listen here, you little brat.” he slides his hand under her skirt, using his finger to pull her panties to the side. matt grins, feeling her soaking wet pussy. “look at you, you’re dripping.” he chuckles sarcastically. “i’m going to fuck you and you’re gonna take my cock as the good slut you are. the only question is whether you're going to be able to sit comfortably tomorrow or not.” he threatens menacingly, grinding his already hardening cock against her lower stomach. “i suggest you start begging nicely for it like a good little bitch. maybe if you ask really sweetly, i’ll go easy on you... for the first round, anyway.”

suddenly the voices of chris and nick echoed through the front door. seems like they were back with the groceries. she smirks at matt.

“nope, i’d rather leave you hard and dry in front of your brothers.” she winks at him smirking, taking his surprise as an advantage to break free from his body, heading to the the her previous spot calmly.

matt curses under his breath as he hears chris and nick approaching the stairs with loud laughter and chatting, knowing he won't have time to properly punish that menace for her insolence. not yet anyway. he shoots her a look filled with dark promise before quickly tucking himself back into his pants and adjusting his shirt.

“this isn't over.” he whispers harshly, jabbing a finger at her as he steps back and she smiles at him amused by his anger. with that ominous vow ringing in the air, matt turns to greet his brothers with a forced smile, praying they don't notice the prominent bulge tenting his sweatpants or the glazed look of frustrated lust in his eyes.

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sepublic · 2 days ago

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May I offer: Parallels between Evelyn and Gus. Both witches who found some intrigue in the human realm, went out of their way to engage with it specifically. Perhaps Evelyn found human detritus washed up on the shore, and that’s where her interest began; It’s what led her to building an archway near her home, and then venturing through Eclipse Lake to find a human settlement to build the other side of her portal.

And they find a lot of wonder, particularly in a human from that place; But then this is marred by the reality of witch hunters, of the same one no less, as they become familiar with how this man would even murder and desecrate his own brother in the name of genocide.

What’s interesting is the duality between their experiences; Evelyn goes in, perhaps excited or just curious, and after meeting Caleb, decides there must be something worth preserving in that connection. So she might’ve created the Portal before he moved out, or even with Caleb after he did, even programmed it to open in Caleb’s home where they expected Philip to be; Only for Philip to already be here. He murders Caleb and later scavenges his corpse, and Evelyn buries the Portal, wanting nothing more to do with the human world.

But she didn’t destroy it; She still left it intact. Maybe Evelyn decided she wanted nothing else with that place, but also considered that others might. So the time wasn’t right, but eventually it will be. And that Portal is indeed later used to help fuel Gus’ obsession with humans, when one of them comes to him. And he learns and even suffers from the reality of witch hunters in his home, before finally arriving in the human realm.

And yet despite this, Gus manages to hold onto most of his loved ones, he’s lucky enough to do so, and it helps that he has more friends and allies to support one another. So in spite of just losing someone to that same human, when Gus returns home, he makes it clear that he can accept the human world, warts and all, and intends to come back. He’s not going to let a bad actor ruin his perception and happiness, or drive him away.

And Gus succeeds! He found happiness, he met Vee who really found happiness here. So it’s not as if the human world is only good for providing a few decent people to save from it. Gus wants a mutual exchange program between the realms. And I suspect Evelyn still did as well, even if she couldn’t bear to do it herself because of the trauma and grief and disillusionment; Because she knows there’s still something there, and suspects the picture of humanity is incomplete if it’s just a racist white colony.

So one of them visits the human world, and its worst aspects follows them back, causing them to avoid the human world. The other is hurt by that lingering aspect, has to go to the human world to avoid the fallout of the aspect’s destruction, and finds so much more belonging and happiness now that this human place has changed over time. So Evelyn was right in that just wasn’t the time yet for her —to return after Caleb’s death or beyond— but definitely for others later and that’s why she left the Portal intact. So even if it is destroyed, the butterfly effect of that choice led to a new one being created.

The idealization of a place only to be let down after arriving, but not barring anyone else, VS knowing the truth and then still finding enough beauty after the visit to return, and then bringing others. The way a lot of this can be attributed to that place changing thanks to humans like Caleb and Evelyn, because some reject their alleged superiority to welcome others, and then we have immigrants like Camila who survived this system, who contribute to changing it in their own ways. And Camila could be Gus’ Caleb in one sense, as a human who welcomed him in Gravesfield, while Luz is Caleb as a human who went to the demon realm to self-actualize.

#The Owl House #Gus Porter #Augustus Porter #Evelyn Clawthorne #Parallels

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pointedextr · 12 hours ago

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it’s that time of year (when the world falls in love)

poly!wolfstar x reader inspired by the christmas waltz by laufey (also thrown together, kinda messy, but it's cutie)

“Happy Christmas!”

Lily’s hair is dotted with fresh snowflakes, Harry’s dark little head peeking out from her arms in the soft glow of the twinkling coloured lights Sirius had insisted on hanging outside. You can see James loaded with presents a few steps behind his wife, face barely visible behind the brightly wrapped packages. You bring Lily into a warm hug, shuffling her inside while keeping in mind the toddler who laughs at the affection, patting your cheeks with small, chilly hands.

“Happy Christmas, Jamie.” You call as Lily and Harry toddle further into the warmth, hands outstretched to help with his mountain of gifts but he side-steps you with ease, smacking a kiss to the top of your head.

“Oi, Padfoot!” He yells into the open doorway, pausing to adjust his grip. “Come help me!”

“Happy Christmas to you, too, Prongs, love you as well, Prongs, happy to see you, Prongs.” Sirius calls back, sarcasm dripping from every word, but you still watch him round the corner of the living room and pluck a sizable amount of presents from his friend’s arms, kissing your nose before following his best friend inside. You trail after them, securing the door shut, shiny Mary Janes making a soft noise against the wood of your entryway as you duck beneath a low hanging string of popcorn.

Lily is busying herself with pouring a drink into a delicate glass, Marlene and Dorcas engaging her in bustling conversation as soon as they spot her. Alice, Frank, and little Neville are corralled around your plush loveseat, Neville waving around a cherry red toy car with blinking lights and moving windshield wipers, and next to them, Mary and Peter are giggling with heads bent together. Emmeline twirls a lock of dark hair around her finger, currently flicking through the snack tray and plucking every strawberry out of the fruit you’d painstakingly prepared earlier that day.

James and Sirius had taken it upon themselves to stack the new additions to the present stash in an elaborate tower that looks like it’d fall at the slightest breath.

“Be careful, Pads.” Remus calls across the room from where you’d left him to answer the doorbell, one of the slim glasses you’d set out for drinks balanced on his knee as long, deft fingers trace the lip of the thing. You sidle up next to him, perching yourself on the armrest of the chair, and his free hand comes up to rest on your thigh.

“I’m walking on eggshells, Moony, I swear!” As he says this, however, a particularly heavy gift bag thumps onto the ground at his feet.

“Alright, you two, I think we can leave the presents as they are.” You placate, a smile playing at your lips. “It looks great.” Sirius smiles a dazzlingly boyish grin at your praise, and you feel a flush heat the tips of your ears at the attention.

“You went all out, huh?” Lily asks, flicking at the garland you’d secured to the tops of your kitchen cabinets.

“I go all out every year!” You crow. “You just never knew because I never had a big enough place to deck out, and we always went to yours, or Frank and Alice’s to celebrate.”

“Thank Godric you didn’t try to do all this when we were in school. If I’d woken up to tinsel in my knickers, you’d have been hexed halfway to Spain.” Marlene quips, springing a laugh from the group.

Everyone turns conversation back inward, and you melt just that little bit more into Remus, bending down to press your lips to the side of his head.

“What was that for?” It’s teasingly gentle, his thumb rubbing comfortingly over your tights, and your chest feels warm.

“Just because. I’m feeling the giving spirit.” You smile, shifting closer so your hip knocks into his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll snog Sirius under the mistletoe. He put it under every doorway.”

“I’m an opportunist.” The man in question swipes Remus’ drink from his hands after abandoning James across the room, a devilish smile hidden behind the glass as he drains the rest of the contents of it.

“Oh, so if you were caught in the doorway with, say, Dorcas?” Remus teases, snatching his empty cup back and vanishing it into the sink with a wave of his hand.

Sirius thumps his chest, an attempt of a valiant hero persona shrouding his features playfully, and he salutes to Dorcas, who’d narrowed her eyes in your direction as soon as she heard her name.

“If Father Christmas demands it, it must be so.”

“I doubt Father Christmas is jonesing for you to pash a lesbian, but I’m not exactly Mrs. Claus, so what do I know?” You make to slip from under Remus’ hand to get him a new glass, but he tightens his hold just the smallest bit before you can get anywhere, tilting his face up just so. You know he’s handsome; you try to tell him this any chance you get, tracing the line of his nose, the dip of his mouth, the apples of his cheeks, but you’re struck by it in the fuzzy lights of your home, the candle-like warmth of your Christmas tree casting his face in such a way that your breath hitches. Before he even speaks, you’re darting forward to kiss him, just a small brush of your lips across his so your lipstick doesn’t smudge.

“Still in the giving spirit?”

You hum, offering your abandoned seat to Sirius, who slides easily against Remus, wrapping their hands together tightly, and slinking into the kitchen. Harry’s attached to James at the hip, munching quite happily on a cracker he’d been given, and making grabby hands at the cube of cheese James has halfway to his mouth.

“Dada, can I have some?” He’s quite good at speaking, more eloquent than Ron Weasley, who has a touch of a lisp and usually strings together just the important words.

“Let’s split it, huh, Haz?” The orange cube is small, but James succeeds at halving it, and offers the bigger piece to his son.

“Excited to open presents, Haz?” You ask, flicking your wand to the top shelf where Sirius thinks it's funny to store things so he can laugh as you jump to retrieve them. A tube of chocolate wands floats down to the counter, and you open the container to snap one in thirds and hand two pieces to James so he can give it to Harry when he sees fit and popping the final third into your mouth.

The boy lights up like he’d been plugged in, emerald eyes widening as if he’d forgotten what today was.

“We got my presents from Santa at home, and I got a new broomstick! It’s p’olly more bigger than Uncle Padfoot’s, it’s almost as tall as Dad! Mummy says I can’t use it until I’m bigger, but I think I’m big enough, you think I’m big enough, right, Auntie?” He’s rambling around the cheese, and you laugh, nodding along to his story as he tells you all the things Santa brought him as you pour a heavy hand into a glass for Sirius and mix a sweeter concoction for Remus, along with chocolate wands for the both of them. Harry clutches your skirt as you pad back into the living room, still rambling on about his presents. “But mummy said Santa forgot to give me something called pay-tense. I don’t know what that is, but it sounds so boring, I’m glad he forgot it.”

“That does sound quite boring, Haz.” Across the room, Remus and Sirius have relocated to the couch closest to the tree, and Sirius is impatiently palming a small present, shaking it against his ear like he could hear something through the box. With a quirk of your lips, you lean down to whisper to Harry: “I think Santa forgot to bring your Uncle some this year, too, but I also think Santa has been forgetting to give it to him since he was a baby.”

You nudge him toward Lily and James, who have a pile of presents sitting in front of them for Harry; you spot your present wrapped in Gryffindor red and gold with an expert bow you’d spent at least thirty minutes on, a mini handmade plush set of the Quidditch balls enchanted to actually work and a pendant that said ‘Future Captain!’ There’s a space on the couch that you go to slide into, but Sirius catches your waist, settling you comfortably across his legs, chin perched on your shoulder.

“You’ve been giving Moony love all night.” He whines, a bit histrionically, and you smack a kiss to his cheek in response. A lip print stands out starkly against his skin, deep red on his pale cheeks, and he makes no move to wipe anything away.

“So whiney, Sirius.” Remus’ lips twist into a half smirk, taking his drink and chocolate wand from your hands.

“You love it.” Sirius accepts the kiss Remus gives him as apology.

Harry’s ripping through his presents with Neville close behind, a pile of wrapping paper and crepe slowly forming around the boys that Frank and James can’t help but vanish intermittently. Neville laughs as a large butterfly flutters around his head, a present from Emmeline, its textile wings softly batting his hair as it floats. From Sirius, Harry pulls out play quidditch robes, and a note telling him to open your present next. Remus gave him and Neville picture books he’d charmed to help them learn how to read (though Harry’s had a special spell on it that insulted James if he picked up the book, so when he bent to gather Harry’s things together, it called him a ‘big piece of stag dung’ which Lily found quite funny.)

Harry delighted in your present, the soft bludgers bouncing off his head as he smiled widely at you. The kids finished with their lot, sizable piles of toys, books, and clothes stacked beside them.

“Oh, Remus, it’s perfect!” Lily held a muggle video camera, pressing at buttons and pointing the lens at her son, then at the smiling man who’d gifted it to her.

“Oi, what about my gift, Lilyflower?” James whined, though it was all in good fun. She cuffed the back of his neck with a slightly irritated blush at whatever she found in the wrapping, sending him reeling forwards. Covering her son’s eyes, she held up gold lingerie with little white bows holding it all together, and everyone burst out in awkward laughter.

James had given Sirius a heaping of personally designed gag gifts, a few of which were muggle made, a limp whoopee cushion thrown across the room to smack Peter in the face on accident. Underneath the mountain of fake vomit, dungbombs, and a suspicious looking potion with a label that said 'Gut-Be-Gone’, there was a small envelope with a silver wax seal.

“You’re joking, Prongs!” Inside the envelope, Sirius produced three tickets to AC/DC’s tour, picking back up in the new year. He clapped James on the back firmly, a fond smile and a blush to the high points of his cheeks, flashing a huge smile at Remus and you.

You’re struck with how beautiful he is, similar to the feeling you’d had with Remus. Sirius settles right back in, pulling you firmly onto his lap and you trace the planes of his face with your gaze, the pretty pink of his cheeks with a bit of drink in him, the foggy paleness that makes up his eyes; the dichotomy of him is breathtaking, the dark ink that peeks over the collar of his shirt and circles his long fingers, the silver glint of piercings that almost match the hue of his iris. You find yourself pressing light kisses to the side of his nose, the dip of his upper lip, the hinge of his jaw, the beauty mark next to his right eye, which he lets you do without comment or question.

You were so wrapped up, forgive the pun, in watching your loved ones and the joy the day was bringing to them, you hardly remembered your own pile until everyone was finished, the muffled sound of Peter’s gift from James (a card that sang the most annoying Christmas carols Lily could think of that had held a ticket to a special screening of the Star Wars trilogy, Peter’s favourite movie) ringing in the air.

“Dove, it’s your turn.” Remus nudges your hand towards the presents, guiding you to a nicely wrapped present that reads Alice and Mary in Alice’s precise scrawl.

You pick at the tape with the blunt of your nail, peeling it delicately until it comes undone in your hands. Inside is something you’d never think Alice or Mary would give you as a gift; delicate lace fabric unfurls in your hand. It’s a long length, and if the texture didn’t tell you it’s ancient, the fading of the white would have done it in. Nevertheless, it’s gorgeous, intricate and detailed and you can’t help but brush your fingers over it with the utmost care. Your brows furrow as you look at them, but they smile a knowing smile, and you thank them wholeheartedly.

“Next gift.” Sirius is speaking very softly, and as he passes the present, he presses a kiss to your cheek with similar gentleness.

It’s a package from Marlene, and you look up to see her smiling, though she’s biting at her nail beds nervously.

“I’m sure I’ll love it, Marlene.”

And you do, though you have similar sentiments to Marlene’s gift you'd had to the previous present. It’s lovely, a pair of stunning earrings that float in an invisible wind, petal-like and iridescent, with misshapen pearls dangling from the posts . Holding them to the light, you can see little spirally veins running through the thin membrane, and you cast an incredulous look at your friend, the black polish on her nail very obviously chipping from the bite of her teeth.

“They’re spidersilk mimicry of fairy wings, we saw a pair similar in Hogsmeade that one time during our sixth year. I thought, hey, what the hell, why not.”

“Marlene, they’re gorgeous, absolutely. Thank you so much.”

Remus passes you the fourth present, an odd look in his brown eyes, almost anticipatory though you know it has little to do with the present, because the label doesn’t read Remus, it reads Lily.

Lily is your absolute best friend in the world, and you know she echoes the sentiment by the misty look in her eyes as you pull her present out, a small, square, and featherlight box.

“Lillian Jane Evans-Potter, what in the fresh hell?”

It’s a picture of her and James on their wedding day, moving and smiling and only looking at each other. Sirius is behind them, smiling a devilish smile at the camera, and he winks at you from the photograph. You turn the picture over in the box, and something jingles out onto your lap. It’s a dragonfly brooch, it’s Lily’s mother’s dragonfly brooch, and Lily’s since added a locket charm that’s empty and pings lightly against the brooch. You have no time to question her present before you’re being proffered a fourth present, oddly, your final present aside from a huge box with no label.

It’s from James and Peter, the former flashes a wide, toothy smile, and the latter looks at you very expectantly, albeit with warmth.

You very carefully open the final package, expecting to be shot in the face with a horrid smell or turned into a giant blueberry, but there’s a simple handkerchief folded over four times. It’s blank, plain white, and it’s the only thing in the package, and you look at it very expectantly, as if it’ll blow up.

“C’mon, daredevil, pick it up!” James crows, and you gingerly prod it with a finger, flipping it over.

“Not like that,” Peter says, cringing. “You have to pick it up fully, or it won’t work.”

You shoot Remus and Sirius questioning looks, and they look almost nervous at your reaction, but you pick the handkerchief up anyhow and almost drop it as it bleeds from your touch; the stark white slowly turns a beautiful shimmery shade of blue, revealing white words seemingly etched into the corner: Happy Christmas! Say yes! - James and Peter

These presents are lovely, yet, you’re so puzzled. None of them make much sense to you, maybe Marlene’s can be explained away, but they’re extravagant earrings, and the thought makes you sweat because all you’d gotten her was a Stevie Nicks record and a black leather choker from a market you and Sirius had gone to. Lily offering her dead mother’s brooch? The lacey fabric from Alice and Mary? And the very, very odd blue handkerchief that turned white again as soon as you set it down. A furrow developed between your brows, and Remus stretched a hand out to soothe it down, kissing the side of your mouth before handing you the giant present you had left.

It was huge. It took up almost all of your upper body, coming to a stop just at your nose. Despite the side, the package was light, and when you jokingly shook it, nothing happened.

“Open it, love.” Sirius prompted.

You notched the tape with your finger, and automatically, the box disappeared, a floating, tiny jewellery box taking its place. Small little stars, like the lights on your Christmas tree, floated along with it, circling it, then dancing away, then back again, like nothing could keep still in the anticipation. Your fingers warmed when they made contact with the small thing, and the stars rushed into your being, floating warmly and playfully through your hair, along your shoulders and down your nose. For lack of better words, it was breathtakingly beautiful.

It seemed like the whole room was holding its breath, Alice was clenching her chair with white knuckles, Lily and James leaned so close it looked like they were almost out of their seats. Marlene bit the sides of her nails raw, and Dorcas’s nose was wrinkled. Mary, Peter, Frank, and Emmeline all tensed like windup toys. Harry and Neville didn’t seem to care, both sharing sugar quills among themselves.

You opened the box, and gasped.

A ring sat among plus red velvet, the stone twinkling and gleaming as your eyes wet.

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” Your words were tight with the closing of your throat, like something was tugging your oesophagus into a pinch. “Oh, my.” It was all you could say.

Sirius’ fingers came into your vision, plucking the ring from its bed of elegance and passing his thumb over the stone, his entire body tense against yours like a violin string pulled taught.

“I don’t want to profess all the things I want to say in front of this lot,” His voice is a whisper, rough and low and so very filled with emotion. “But I love you. We love you. We wanted you to be first.”

You’d discussed marriage, one night, all lying together and limbs tangled so tightly you couldn’t tell where you ended and someone else began. You remember saying you wanted to get on a knee and give someone a ring, that you didn’t want to be the only one with a symbol of love, so you all agreed to plan engagements when the time came. You promised, with great vigour through the sleepy haze you were under, to propose like nobody's business. You were so sure that Remus chuckling into your hair was an agreement, not an appeasement because they were already planning something so lovely, something that made your insides warm, something that made you want to kick everyone out so you could do some very lovely things to your very lovely lovers.

“Oh, give me the ring before I punch you.”

You kiss him so violently when it slides home on your left hand, your teeth knock together and he falls into the couch with a noise that sends the room hooting with laughter. You turn to Remus, who’s looking at your hand like it’s been touched by Midas, and launch yourself towards him with a sickening speed, lips and teeth and tongue all at play as you clutch his face in your hands, running a thumb over a scar that pulls taught across his cheek as he kisses you back.

“I’m going to propose the hell out of you, just you wait.”

“Looking forward to it.”

#wolfstar x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!wolfstar #i have no idea what else to tag her.#have it merry christmas gay people

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wannabanauthor · 1 day ago

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Since I’ve had more time to process the breakup and have read fellow shippers’ thoughts, I can see why Tommy decided to end the relationship.

Although I have no faith in the writers or Tim anymore, they can turn this around if they choose to.

And here’s how:

So the breakup scene makes sense through a PTSD lens. And I’m talking just about PTSD in general, not army related.

When you’re dealing with a PTSD episode, until it’s over, there is very little anyone can say or do to get you out of it. Your brain will not listen because it’s stuck in a loop and you can’t get out until it lets you.

Breathing techniques work, but the amount of emotions and nonsense you say will not let up until it runs its course. I’m speaking from experience, but I can’t say much about it because lawyers, etc.

Once it’s over, the amount of guilt you have for all the horrible things you said or did will hit you hard.

So for Tommy, he was fine until Buck asked him to move in with him. Tommy’s smile dropped instantly and he went into panic mode. It escalated when Buck mentioned engagement and marriage.

I think it’s possible a mixture of guilt over Abby and past experiences with other queer newbies, that set him off into a PTSD spiral.

Buck unknowingly hit a trigger(s), and Tommy instantly shut down.

That conversation went from Abby to moving in, and it was completely out of left field. There was no real buildup to it from Buck. He just asked Tommy and made this sort of people-pleasing speech. Instead of tackling the actual problem, Buck just went straight for progressing their relationship to another level.

Tommy’s guilt and past heartbreak flared up, and he probably thought he was back in that mental space after he broke up with Abby and dated someone and thought they would be forever, but it didn’t work out.

So he starts saying things like he can’t move in because Buck’s still new to his sexuality. He’s picking up the signs that he’s seen in previous relationships that obviously didn’t work out, and he got scared and panicked.

He really liked Buck and didn’t want them to go the same route as his past relationships where he either was the newbie or dated a newbie and thought it would be forever.

He’s stuck in the spiral and can’t see a way out because he’s terrified of getting his heartbroken if things don’t work out. So he ends the relationship and leaves. It doesn’t make sense to the audience or anyone else, but if you look at it from the PTSD perspective, it does make sense. Again speaking from personal experience.

Now am I saying this was intentional from the writers and Tim? No, not at all. They’re not smart enough for that. At least I don’t think they are. Only future episodes will confirm or deny this.

Now how to fix it:

Tommy has an emergency appointment with his therapist. He’s going to need it before and after the PTSD episode is over. The guilt and heartbreak from ending things with Buck is going to hurt him a lot. Especially since he called Evan “Buck” right after breaking up with him. He didn’t even realize that he ended things until Buck asked.

Once the episode is over, he’s going to need to process the whole relationship all over with the therapist and figure out where to go from there.

It’ll take him a few weeks maybe less/more before he reaches out to Buck to talk. It’ll be a reverse image of their coffee date, with him making the first step to mend things.

I think they could get back together and work it out, but they’d need to take a few steps back and probably go into couples counseling. Buck would also need his own therapist because he still needs to process being bisexual and actually using the word.

If they get back together, I can see them starting from the beginning again and progressing extremely slowly. Buck needs to learn not to rush into things. Even though he likes Tommy so much, he definitely was not thinking clearly when he asked Tommy to move in. There wasn’t even a natural transition in the conversation. It’s like Buck was having the conversation in his head and spoke out loud, which is a common adhd trait.

Tim Minear and the writers could get a few seasons content out of BuckTommy if they wanted even with how things ended in 8x06.

Now do I think this was the intention? Nope. The breakup seemed rushed and abrupt, and for all we know Tommy is gone forever. We can’t trust any interviews from anyone, so I have very little hope that Buck and Tommy can come back from this. I don’t trust the writers or Tim.

So there, I managed to cobble together some explanation for the breakup.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #meta #breakup #analysis #evan buckley

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onlygenxhere · 5 hours ago

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A conversation between me, @innytoes, @missjoolee, @floating-in-the-blue, and @jatp-spinsb about that grindr post that went around a while ago about needing a screwdriver and not a hookup has led to a Juke version of that prompt. (I didn't think there was one) I'm not sure what to call it.

It was a lazy Saturday morning and Julie was cooking herself some bacon and eggs scrolling through the dating app Flynn had talked her into installing last night after her third glass of wine.

When the talk had turned to how long it had been since she’d been laid her best friend had insisted this new app was the way to break her dry spell. It was marketed as a dating app but was more popular for being the hetero version of grinder. On the plus side the men couldn’t message the women till they messaged them first. It was sexist as hell but when it came to a possible hookup Julie appreciated it.

She sighed as she swiped left on a guy that listed sky diving as one of his favorite hobbies. “Hell to the no.” She muttered under her breath.

She’d actually forgotten all about the app until her do not disturb turned off at nine and her phone started pinging that there were a few matches within the default radius of two miles.

She paused on a pretty cute guy that seemed to be a little too fond of his admittedly nice arms when the smell of her bacon burning finally pulled her attention back to her breakfast that was about to be ruined.

“Shit!” She dropped her phone on the table and only halfway noticed Dahlia, her cat, jumping up as she moved to save her bacon from ruin.

“Dahlia down!” She scolded over her shoulder as she turned the stove off and pulled the bacon out, laying it on a paper towel.

The cat ignored her of course, continuing to sniff at her phone, as she went about making herself a sandwich with her eggs and bacon.

She took a bite and moaned happily as she sat back down, pushing Dahlia’s nose away from her still open screen and froze.

Apparently the cat had sent the guy with the arms a message and he had replied.

Several times….

Me Ooo kiiiop

Luke Oh thank god Hi Hey I’m not actually looking for a date or hook up right this moment Not that your picture isn’t gorgeous But my bathroom sink is currently overflowing and what I really need is a flat head screwdriver I’m not sure if I have enough towels to keep my apartment from flooding. Hello?

Well shit. If his apartment was anything like hers there wasn’t a universal cut off so he’d have to wait for maintenance to get there and, again, if it was like hers, he could be anywhere from a few minutes to a few days showing up.

She checked his location and saw he was literally on the next block over and sighed. Guess she was going to get her good deed out of the way for the day.

Me Be there in five

She wolfed down her sandwich as she pulled out her little tool kit her tia had gifted her when she moved in, grabbed an armful of towels and her keys and was out the door in record time jogging down the block in her bare feet.

She was headed up the steps of Mr. arms, sorry, Luke’s building when her phone pinged twice.

Luke You’re a life saver Apartment 3C

“Of course you live on the third floor.” She grumbled as she started to climb. Realizing halfway up she didn’t have a bra on. At least her tank wasn’t white.

She banged at 3C’s door with her elbow three times as she tried to catch her breath before it was jerked open and she nearly fell in.

Her first thought was maybe he had a right to be proud of those arms because his profile picture hadn’t done them justice.

He also hadn’t been soaking wet in that picture.

Floppy brown hair curling around his forehead and dripping down his face, pajama pants hanging low on narrow hips and a sleeveless t-shirt plastered to an equally impressive torso.

“Oh thank god!” He grabbed the towels and the toolbox out of her hands and rushed down the hall. “Come on in!”

She took a steadying breath as she stepped inside the apartment. It looked much like her own with only a small sofa, books and a decent sized tv in the small living room. But where she had her piano by her balcony door, he had an amp and guitar.

Julie shook her head and moved down the hall to the bathroom curious how bad the situation was.

She tried not to laugh as she peaked around the corner. There were wet towels everywhere and a literal spray of water coming out from under one of the faucets. Luke was on the floor with her screwdriver turning something she couldn’t see.

Whatever he was doing seemed to be working because the deluge of water started to slow and then stop.

He sat up with a sigh, pushing his wet hair off his face and smiled at her. “All better.”

She felt a throb between her legs and her nipples tighten. Fuck, that smile should come with a warning label.

“Glad I could help.” She smiled back at him as she casually crossed her arms over her chest.

He stood up, that smile never wavering and placed her screwdriver back in the little tool kit. He clicked it closed and passed it to her. “Can I buy you breakfast or something?” He seemed to finally be looking at her, probably noticing her lack of shoes, her flannel shorts and her tank top that she definitely had a bra on under. “Or can I make you breakfast?”

She shrugged. “Do you have a dryer?”

“What?” He laughed.

She waved at the mountain of wet towels all over the floor.

“Ah, no.” He sighed. “I’ll have to take them to the laundromat later.”

She bit her lip. This was probably a bad idea, or a really really good one. “I have a dryer.”

“Yeah?” He took a step toward her, his eyes twinkling in interest. “I already owe you for the screwdriver and now you’re offering the use of your dryer too. I’m gonna have to take you to dinner or something.”

She could swear his eyes dropped to her lips as she licked them. “Or something.”

He took another step toward her, forcing her to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.

She let her arms drop to her sides as he slid a hand around her waist ever so slowly, giving her all the time in the world to back up or say something.

Talking was not on her mind right now. All she could think about was that wet torso pressing against her thin tank top as he pulled her tight against his chest, and how she owed Dahlia a saucer of milk for her accidental text.

“Hi.” He breathed across her lips. “I’m Luke.”

“Julie.” She whispered as he closed the distance between them.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #happy juke jeudi!#grindr prompt #good friends lead to impulsive fic #title suggestions welcome

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sunglassesmish · 5 months ago

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just a pair of tommy smiling gifs because i love he

#also because i didn’t make enough in time before i left #so may as well post them and make more after #you can never have enough #911 #tommy kinard #my gifs #911 abc #911 7x05 #911 7x06

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sluttyten · 1 year ago

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In addition to just not wanting to get up and go to work today I have a headache and feel like I didn’t get any sleep last night

#the entire upper left quadrant of my head hurts rn #and my jaw is tight too which isn’t making it any better #praying that my manager ends up switching my position with someone else like she did yesterday 🙏🏻 bc that was nice I liked it #they put me in the same position every day and it just gets to be so tiring #also wish they would let me leave like an hour early today #also also I’m getting tired of being scheduled in half an hour after I used to be scheduled in and I’m not exactly sure why they changed it #well actually it’s probably because the scheduling manager wants me to stay an hour to half an hour later than I was being scheduled #but I miss my old schedule it let me do things before we opened that I don’t have time to do now but am still expected to do #and let me off early enough that I didn’t feel like my entire afternoon was wasted by the time I got home (even tho it’s literally a 1hr #difference so it’s not like all that much time has been wasted it just feels like it)

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weaselle · 6 months ago

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i had to make a solution for this for myself, mostly because of depression, but it makes a nice How To for folks who are low on spoons or could use some help in the kitchen.

Fortunately i was a professional cook for over a decade. UNfortunately the first post i made explaining it was suuuuper long. Let's see if i can do better

So you select any protein that you can cook in a frying pan -- chicken breasts, ground beef, pork chops, sausages, steak, chicken thighs, whatever. You also select one or two types of veggie (mushrooms or tubers also work, i just did this with potatoes and carrots for dinner tonight).

[i like cooking for vegetarians, but this is how i cook for myself when i'm low on spoons - perhaps i'll do another post for meatless meals]

You'll also need some kind of oil, and a sauce or two of your choice in a bottle. All cooking gear is a large frying pan with lid (i prefer non-stick) a spatula, a cutting board, and a knife.

You cut the veggies into bite size pieces, cut up enough for two meals. One kind of veggie is fine, or you can do mix two or three

Put frying pan on medium heat with a little oil. Tubers or mushrooms or go in the pan a few minutes before the protein. 2 portions of the protein goes in the pan, about 5 minutes with lid (don't worry you can still get a good sear on both sides)

Now flip your protein if it's flip-able and add normal veggies, put the lid back on another five-ish minutes.

Take your protein out and put it with one portion of the veggies in a microwave safe container. That's going to be your lunch tomorrow. Put the other portion of protein on a plate to rest (you have to let a cooked protein sit a couple minutes before you serve it or when you cut into it all the juices run out and it goes dry - the liquids thicken as it cools, preventing this drying out if you let it rest, the goal is to serve it very warm but not hot hot)

While it's resting, pour some sauce from your bottle in the pan with the rest of the veggies and turn up the heat. A single sauce/bottle is fine, i like to get fancy and mix a couple. Two examples of personal favorite mixes are 1: bbq sauce and a hot sauce like sriracha 2: roughly equal parts low sodium soy sauce and worcestershire (makes something similar to a teriyaki sauce) A swallow of wine is almost always a great option if you want to add that to your sauce too, just add it to the pan before the other sauces so the alcohol has time to burn off.

...

Here is the important bit. While your veggies are finishing, wash your cutting board and chef knife. Then when you dump your veggies and sauce over your protein on the plate, while it is still too hot to eat, you wash your frying pan and spatula before you eat. Now the only dishes you have left to do are your plate and fork. Maybe a steak knife.

...

The whole thing takes about 35 minutes even with washing the dishes, and that includes your lunch for the next day- just pour a different sauce on and stick it in the microwave for a couple minutes (or five minutes back in the frying pan) and you have a full healthy lunch with a different flavor

You can use this technique every single meal and it yields hundreds of combinations, from pork and potatoes bbq, to salmon and broccoli teriyaki, to chicken and zucchini in a soy glaze.

It will keep you down to less than an hour of kitchen time per day total for both lunch and dinner including all dish clean up, uses the least dishes, the least effort, requires the least technique, and is, depending on what you pick out, very affordable

here are a couple more examples from this month; i didn’t take pictures of the salmon i did recently, but you get the idea

it's not super fancy, but it is easy, affordable, quick, and any flavors you want. Hope this helps some folks

Happy Cooking!

#cooking #food #meat #low spoon cooking

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cuteniarose · 20 days ago

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Me: *creates an OC*

Me: *heavily implies OC will meet a bad fate*

OC: *meets bad fate*

Me:

(Alternatively, I may have started it, but @katkastrofa enabled me and now I’m losing my mind)

#Kat and Nia and their multiverse of madness #first rule of interacting with Nia: don’t suggest a dark/whumpy/extremely angsty concept to them #they’ll take it and run a marathon with it and next thing you know their own ideas are making them cry #this is just what happens when I start developing an OC during a rough time in my life #happens every time. guess who came up with Summiya’s fall from grace after their college application fell through??#and since Summiya has a more or less completed storyline. it’s now someone else’s turn #namely Jia’s. also Sunat’s but. mostly Jia’s. Sunat is more angst than whump and I’m craving PAIN #I’ve been frothing at the mouth thinking about Jia all day #just.. imagine how terrified she must have been when she was brought before Jusamah. when he said that he’d make her talk one way or another #and if she doesn’t want to obey and confess willingly… something else can be arranged #how her fear got even worse when she was dragged into the palace dungeons. when she saw the whipping post #begging for mercy as she was stripped and tied. swearing on her life that she doesn’t know anything. that she’s innocent #rambling incoherently right up until the first hit lands. after that it’s just screams and sobs and barely audible ‘I don’t know’s #all the while she’s yelled at by a man three times her age who refuses to believe that she truly doesn’t know anything #and she doesn’t. all she did was point Aiza in a direction. she has no proof she even went in it #I don’t want to get to graphic here but let’s just say I read an article on whipping and it’s.. it’s bad #the aftermath is brutal and bloody and passing out from the pain would be a mercy #and afterwards… I do think someone is called to tend to her so she doesn’t bleed to death before they can get a confession out of her #and that person is kind. if a little detached emotionally. and likely her back could have been salvaged if the whipping didn’t repeat #but it did. because they need her to confess. maybe the excruciating pain of reopened wounds will get her to talk…#it doesn’t. she never says anything. and after a while they move on from torture to locking her up and starving her #maybe that’ll finally break her. perhaps she’s still whipped occasionally even afterwards but for the most part she’s just left alone-#in some dark cell and questioned occasionally. it lasts anywhere from weeks to months and yet she never gives out the one detail she knows #because Aiza’s safety depends on it and she knows Aiza’s punishment will be much worse than hers if she’s caught #but anyway. enough of the bloody horror show. instead think about what it must’ve been like for her parents #the town is alight with scandal following the disappearance of Lady Aiza. you know a bit about her since your daughter works for her #you don’t hear from your daughter for a while. eventually someone tells you that she’s been convicted of helping Lady Aiza run away #she’s been under interrogation since. no one’s seen her but rumour has it they’re torturing her. there’s little you can do as a poor family #you request an audience with Lord Jusamah. it takes a long time to to be granted but eventually you’re before him begging for your daughter #apparently she’s proven to be a useless waste of resources so she’s released to you. you barely recognise her. AND I REACHED TAG LIMIT FML

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soleilapproves · 19 days ago

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Play fighting with Boxer!Sukuna

Note: Reader is referred to as girlfriend at one point.

Masterlist

“Babe.”

“Not right now.”

“Babe.”

“Sukuna, I promise I’ll be done with this book soon.”

He huffed and fell back onto the couch. He had been trying to get your attention for the past 30 minutes but you were adamant on finishing your book. This is all the fault of that damn community book club your coworker recommended you join. Now whenever, you’re off work and Sukuna doesn’t have to train, you’re reading. Usually the two of you spent almost all your spare time together but now you spent half of it reading your newest book for your weekly discussion. You always did your best to spoil him with kisses and cuddles but it was never enough.

Book club be damned, he needed you to be superglued to his side every single second.

“My girlfriend has a side man and he’s made of paper.” He huffed to himself as he watched you intently read. What was so great about your book anyway? Was it worth ignoring your gorgeous (and shirtless) boyfriend? He even had a tattoo of your name on his left pec and you were still choosing to smother a book with your attention.

Sukuna’s wallowing turned him creative- he stood in front of you, trying to make sure your guard was down. You didn’t look up which meant that you were still engrossed in your book. His hand swooped in and swiftly snatched the book from you. “Sukuna.” you groaned. “Give it back, I was at a good part.” You got up to grab it from him but he raised it above his head. “Kiss me.” You glared at him and gave him a quick peck on his lips. “Done, now give it.”

“No.” He nonchalantly replied. “But I kissed you.” You wondered why he was being particularly irritating today.

“That was me begging for a morsel of your attention. Now cuddle me if you want it.” He said and cheekily smirked.

You ignored him and hopped trying to get your book. Sukuna simply dodged your sad attempts and laughed every time you missed. “I don’t even know why you’re trying.” You gave him a pointed look at his comment.

“Okay, fine, you can have your book if you beat me in a fight.”

“What? That makes no sense.” You couldn’t believe this man. “It seems like a fair challenge to me.” He said as he walked to a particularly high shelf and placed your book on top of it. “You know I can just use my stepping stool for that, right?” You said before scoffing at him.

“Then it’s a good thing I hid it.” His sarcastic smile was now pissing you off. “But you literally fight for a living. You have the upper hand.”

“I’m in love with you. Use that as a distraction. Come on, let’s go to the ring.” You were speechless as he dragged you to the fighting “ring” (also known as your bedroom).

Since you had a smaller frame than him, he agreed to let you have the first hit. You sighed and braced yourself. You didn’t have much of a strategy except for charging at him with such a high speed that he’d fall on the bed and would accept defeat.

But as soon as you were in close distance, he caught both your arms, turned you around and threw you on the bed. He didn’t give you a second to get up before he straddled you. “Haha!” He exclaimed. Seeing you all riled up underneath him was a sight he was used to but it never failed to awe him.

“Feels familiar, doesn’t it?” He asked as he began to lower himself to face you. “This is so unfair! You’re like 200 pounds, I can’t even move you.” You said as you tried to push him off. Sukuna grabbed your hands that were fighting him and he playfully wrestled them. Who knows what would’ve happened if he used his real strength.

Thank goodness for your quick thinking because you remembered that Sukuna was extremely ticklish so you pulled your hand out of his grasp with all the strength you could muster up and started poking his sides. “Babe!” He yelled before toppling over to his side. It was your turn to straddle him and before you could pin his arms beside his head, he caught yours and pulled you down to him. He wrapped his muscular arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. Your cheeks were mushed against the very tattoo of your name.

You were literally stuck in one position. The more you tried to move the tighter he’d hold you. “Sukuna, you cheater. Why do I always do this to myself?” You sighed, accepting defeat.

Sukuna kissed your forehead and laid you both on your sides, still not letting you go. “Sweet, sweet victory.” He whispered to himself.

-•-

I need to be (lovingly) smothered by a beefy nerd. Someone like Clark Kent.

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logansbaby · 1 month ago

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GUILTY AS SIN - Logan Howlett

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

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

pairings: logan howlett x fem! mutant reader

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

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

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

‘I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?’

Guilty as Sin? - Taylor Swift

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

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

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

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

This was all Logan’s fault.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t, your mind huffed.

He was, your heart retorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mutation was not one of subtlety.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❥

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

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

Big mistake.

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

Logan could fucking smell you.

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

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

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

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

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

Logan curses, his entire being rigid.

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

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

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

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

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

From the first look shared between you, he knew.

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

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

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

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

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

So, with that, he’d made up his mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❥

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And— oh, oh.

“Can smell you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“You could’ve kissed me months ago.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, that’s exactly what he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lo—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mere, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

“Mhmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon Logan, fuck me, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Though, you hope there isn’t anyone else.

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

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

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

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

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

How could he deny you when you looked like that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚ fin

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

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