#also this was SO much fun to make right up until I had to try to edit the timing of all the her her her bits

[arbitrarykiwi]

*⁀➷ Drugs, Sex and a Headlock?!

Nam-Gyu (Player 124) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+) , sex on drugs , fuckin in a headlock

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:

Dating Nam-Gyu was always a rollercoaster, you knew exactly what you signed up for. Now, fucking Nam-Gyu??!

That’s like drawing for the lottery. You really never know what you’re gonna get or what you’re betting on but the adrenaline from the wait of seeing what type of Nam-Gyu you’re gonna get makes the game all the more fun.

The drugs he takes- they’re never from a steady source. They’re dosed differently, have higher potencies or longer kick in times. He also gives so fucks as to what it is, most of the time the fuck isn’t even asking what it is- he’s just taking it.

Sometimes whatever drug he scored makes him fuck you nice and slow, almost lazy. Other times? Like right now?

He’s insatiable.

You’re reduced to a pathetic mess on the bed, wrecked sounds that are mixed between moans and cries are torn from your lungs.

“F-fucking take it, goddamn, fucking look at youuuu.” Nam-Gyu is slurring his words, babbling out sentences that flop so fast between degradation and praise your mind is left spinning. “Taking it soooo fuckin’ deep, huh?”

Your fingernails dig into the sheets, trying to ground yourself as each thrust of his is bringing you closer to cumming what feels like the tenth time tonight. You’re whining out a ‘uh-huh’ before you’re back to sobbing out his name. Whatever fucking drug he took must have had some kind of sexual enhancer laced within it.

He’s laughing at you, curling his body over your arched back and kissing along your shoulder blade. His hips move at a slow, devastating roll that drags his fat cock along your pulsating walls, making you feel every inch of him. “Such a good lil’ whore, just letting me fuckin’ cum in you over and over and over.”

“Shhh- jus- fucking hell- just listen, baby, listen to how s-sloppy you are…” his lips tickle the shell of your ear as he talks, his words drawn on in a mocking breathless laugh, like you should be ashamed of how much of a mess he’s made of you.

Every delicious roll of his hips has your pussy letting out a debauched squelch! You’re cringing at yourself, hearing how fucking sticky and wet it sounds. You just know you’re making a mess out of the bed.

Nam-Gyu places both of his hands on either side of your head and growls low as his hips fall flush with your ass “S’not deep enough…needa fucking ruin you.”

“W-what?!” You’re crying out trying to turn back to look at him, he has to be crazy (he is), he’s already so deep you can feel the tip of his cock press against your cervix, making you once again teeter on the edge of another orgasm.

“Y-you’re already too deep! I c-can’t take-” you’re cut off by another thrust of his cock in and out of your sloppy hole.

“Silly girl….” He’s shifting again, lifting his chest off your back and sliding his hands up and down your spine, “you should know better by now…”

He’s grabbing your arms and yanking you upright. “O-oh fuck!” You cry out when you feel the shift of the new position. It’s one you’ve tried before, one you know you love and will make you fucking drool before he’s anywhere near done with you.

“You can take it….” He’s grunting, releasing your arms. You think you’re about to fall face first back into the pillows but the soft feathery feeling of the pillows never meet your cheek. You’re falling into Nam-Gyu’s arm. “And if you can’t take it I’ll make you take it, yeah?”

One tattooed arm is curled around your chest and grabbing at the back of your neck on the opposite side of you. A fucking headlock.

Your hands immediately grip at his tattooed bicep, screaming out his name when he uses the hold to drive you of far down his cock you think you’re tasting his pre-cum in your throat.

“Ohhhh~ seeee!! Now that’s fucking deep enough.” Nam-Gyu is drawing his hips back, slow and agonizing- pausing until only his tip rests inside you.

You don’t mean to, but when he rocks inside you, just teasing you with his tip and he squeezes his arm around your throat- you’re twitching against his chest and gushing around him.

“Oh-ohhhh fuuuckkkk!” Nam-Gyu growls, looking down over your shoulder to get the slightest view of how your cum sprays around his cock and onto the bed.

Nam-Gyu is practically drooling like you now, his sadistic grin widening, “’s just the tip sweetheart, I still haven’t been balls deep in your cunt like this….”

He’s squeezing his arm around you again, like he’s testing something- when you let out the cutest whine and drive your ass back onto him despite just cumming- his theory is proved.

“I would have fucked you like this a lot sooner if I would have known you were this much of a slut for being put in a headlock…”

Your head is tipping back and falling to his shoulder, whimpering for him to fuck you deeper. With his free hand, Nam-Gyu is grabbing your face and squeezing your cheeks- shaking your head back and forth like a child getting teased by a bully.

With a mocking coo and a snake like grin, he’s speaking to you once more, “‘S a good thing this shit’s supposed to have a trip time of 5 hours ain’t it…”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: °❀⋆.

Taglist: @namsgyu @nuttybeans @namgyucat @g1rlonthe3internet @reilapse @yuuumeee @thanosspills

((Lmk if you wanna be added to my main tag list <3))

[billysgirllol]

“i’d ask ‘em to play games with me, because i think that’d be a fun way to engage. make sure we have a party.” lucy gray grins, thinking she’s got it ALL figured out. “billy bonney, how am i supposed to be takin’ this conversation seriously without laughing,” as she’s already doing in between her words, “when you say fart filled sleepin’ bag.” another laugh, head tilting back as it does when she’s just filled with too much giddiness. “but yeah…” actually, that’ll DO it, reminded of pat’s vile trick today. “that makes me feel weird, knowin’ now how innocent he played it off too— it’s really like he can convince you he wasn’t doing it, billy,” her voice takes on a serious tone now, a hint of fear even curling around the soft way she speaks. “and it’s overall gross thinkin’ on it.” he was putting his hands on her body intentionally. makes her heart drop in her stomach but then anger settles in it, a fire starts to grow then revenge rears it’s head— what could she do? mind gets to pondering furiously. a snake, she bets. she bets she could find a harmless one and stick it DOWN his fart filled sleeping bag early in the morning… she ain’t one to just let things go after an injustice has been served. “wish we had the camper all to ourselves.” lucy gray frowns, wishing none of the smelly guys were there and they could have the rv or a rv all to their selves. “i’d love that a million times over, you could be him, but— you also can’t. cause then i’d be mad, if i can’t be your ariel.” doe eyes roll at just thinking of some girl other than her acting along aside HER prince eric. “best night?” brows lift, eyes softening in surprise, heart doing more flips as their eyes meet.

“yeah,” her eyes drop back to his shoulders, the cool metal of her B necklace laying back against her chest when she raises up a little making her realize it’s there, wishing she could do all kinds of crazy things to his shoulders, “those are some good lookin’ shoulders.” she blurts, then laughs to herself because she’s embarrassed. cheeks becoming inflamed at even THINKING of said crazy things… which causes her to scrub his head faster when alerted to how heated her down below feels, swirling all around until every inch of his head has been covered. what a crime, to continually fantasize about your best guy friend. she silently scolds herself because WHY does she always end up doing that? but then again… dreamy eyes drifting to the starry sky, right hand scrubbing his hair at a slower pace now, left hand touching the necklace on her chest, how can she refrain? when he irritates her and makes her mad, but he also makes her mad… he’s the love of her life since he saved her on his fence, every time he looks at her with his sweet and beautiful eyes, when his hand randomly comes up and strokes her cheek, when he’s a taylor swift song and she’s wearing his initial around her neck, when he’s crazily protective of her, all of that makes her insanely in love with him and she can’t help it just travels in between her legs. it’s so romantic, the way emotions and feelings are crafted to fuel a desire to make love to someone. if this isn’t all just a heat of a moment thing, a plan that her body is just trying to trick her just to reproduce, and she still wakes up tomorrow wanting to trust in him again because right now she trusts in neither— one day she is gonna marry him and drag him back to a moonlit lake, but actually act on kissing him.

“mhm, sure will. i think a late night talk show would be fun.” lucy gray responds, feeling like a hairstylist having chitchat with her client. “they are, they definitely are, i agree. a group of girls is vastly different than a group of guys. which is funny, how that all came to be.” she muses, laughing that billy notices it too. girls feel safer and more peaceful and better smelling to be around and then guys are less inviting feeling, smell bad and can’t really have an overall pleasant time because there’s too much testosterone and always someone is either flirting or being a dog in some other kind of way. “course i like them a lot, i love them. and remember? little ole me always said you were a prince, because of your curls. first thing i noticed about you.” she reminisces, retelling her favorite story for the hundredth time to him. but she doesn’t mind, she loves any chance getting to tell it over again. “why? you havin’ fun?” playing innocent, shyly dipping down some more when he turns around. her heart exploding like fireworks when his affectionate hand reaches up to stroke her cheek, it’s so darling and so sweet. nothin’ is more swoon inducing than that. it’s like he’s trying to make her fall into his arms and start attacking him in kisses… well, he’s certainly not makin’ it easy for her. a laugh sounds from her at him saying he’s getting BAPTIZED, lucy gray plugging his ears for him when he goes under before letting go once he comes back up. “alright, great job.” she grabs her shampoo next, loading her palm with some blend of coconut and vanilla organic curly hair oriented shampoo then taking both palms and spreading it over his locks. fingers scrubbing deep into his roots, moving from the top of his head to the sides.

[kdh-tally]

Romance x Reader Headcannons

Prompt : Headcannons of Romance and his partner

Author's Note : Can you tell who my second favourite Saja Boy is? I love Romance and need more content of him you guys ☹️

You met Romance completely by chance

You were a kpop idol and your group had only debuted a few months earlier.

No massive wins or trophies or anything of the sort but somehow, your company landed you an MC gig at a major end-of-year award show.

It was in hopes to get your group more attention.

You were standing backstage, rereading your cue cards and trying not to pass out due to nerves, when the door opened and in walked him.

Romance. From The Saja Boys.

There was no way he was real.

He had that energy people spoke about.

He was tall, confident, dressed in an all black outfit with silver accents, his fluffy pink hair was perfectly styled, bringing out his eyes.

He seemed to look over the room before focusing on you. He grinned.

“So you’re the rookie idol right?” he asked.

You nodded quickly and bowed. “Y-yes. I’m… I’m honored.”

He smiled, a little surprised but smiled sweetly.

“You don’t have to look so scared, angel.”

You were going to combust. 

He noticed right away that you were shy.

You kept your gaze down, your voice quiet, and clutched your cue cards like they were your life line. 

He was sure you had the words memorized already due to how many times you looked over them.

But when you read your lines during rehearsal, your voice was clear. Calm. Soft but steady. He was immediately intrigued.

“You’re nervous, huh?” he asked “That’s okay, i’ll help you through it”

During the show, he made sure to be a great guide. 

Gently handing you the mic

Smiling in your direction before your lines

Whispering words of encouragement between camera cuts. 

He even made silly jokes to get you more comfortable and make you laugh.

And when you eventually laughed in his direction? It was game over. That was it for him.

After the show ended, you bowed again, more confident this time. “Thank you for helping me tonight sunbaenim.”

“Anytime,” he said, handing you a cherry soda from the catering. “Actually… I was thinking I’d like to help you smile like that more often.”

You nearly dropped the can.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but you had just become Romance’s favorite person in the entire industry.

He loves doting on you. 

Will do anything to see you smile, even if it means acting like a complete clown during practice.

You get flustered so easily and he lives for it.

He sends texts like : 

“Good luck on stage today, angel. Try not to make too many people fall for you today alright?”

And then follow up with a 💋💋 emoji just to mess with you.

Since you’re still a newer idol group, you prefer to keep a super low-profile and try to keep things quiet. 

He’s surprisingly good at respecting that… until he accidentally wears your group’s colors on a livestream and fans notice immediately.

When you both hang out together later you’re covering your face from embarrassment, he gently pulls your hands away.

“Don’t hide from me angel. I like looking at you.”

He’s more of a caller than a texter but you prefer texting over calling. So you both compromise.

He sends you multiple voice notes, knowing just how much you love his voice. 

They’re usually just him humming, singing a few of his lyrics for you, random rants about his day, or compliments.

If you’re sad, he’ll send a 2-minute-long voice memo just going: “Hi. You're my favorite person. That’s all. Okay. Bye. Wait—no, also, you’re cute. Okay now bye. Actually wait–” and he just continues going on like that.

He remembers all your favorite snacks. 

Shows up to music shows with them and slips them to you like it’s a spy exchange.

He finds it fun keeping things a secret.

The first time you initiated physical contact, even though it was just grabbing his sleeve, his whole brain short-circuited. 

He didn’t expect you to make a move.

He then awaits any form of contact from you like a cat. 

Romance is a cat for sure. 

When your group wins their first award, he’s the first person to congratulate you.

He meets up with you secretly at your dorm, peppering your face with kisses.

“I knew you’d do it. So proud of you, angel. I cried a little. Don’t tell the boys.”

He never gets jealous of your fame, but he will get pouty when your company keeps you too busy to text him back.

He also wants to tell everyone you’re together so bad.

“I was thinking we should just tell everyone we’re dating.”

“We are not doing that on Inkigayo day.”

“Okay but, what if we wore matching colors?”

“Romance—”

“They’d never know. Or they’d ALL know. Its a win-win situation.”

He’s touchy when you’re in private backstage. 

Always fixing your mic

Adjusts your accessories

Or even just tucking your hair behind your ear. 

The staff who see this are so in support.

Confession? It happened on your second date.

He was stil getting to know you and had asked about why you wanted to be a kpop idol anyways.

You went on the longest rant. Talking about how you always had a passion for singing and dancing and couldn’t help but admire the many idols you watched every day.

He stopped listening halfway through.

All he could think about was how adorable you looked when so passionate about something.

He wanted to be the first person you ranted to about everything just so he could see your cute face.

“Can i be your boyfriend?” he’d interrupt unconsciously.

His face would turn red after realizing what he said, “T-that slipped out! Please ignore me angel–” 

But you cut him off with a small laugh before agreeing “I’d love that”

He swore his heart fell out of his chest.

He does all the talking when you're around people. 

You stand there politely, maybe giving soft smiles or nods while he speaks.

When you finally do open up, even a little, he absolutely melts.

“I think I just fell in love again.”

Also! When the boys found out here's how it went :

Baby scoffs in disbelief. “You pulled her????? I don’t get why anyone would want to date you…”

“I’m proud of you bro,” Abby nods in approval.

Mystery doesn’t say much but Romance knows he approves. He caught both of you shopping for cute little trinkets one day. Mystery eventually buys both you and Romance couple keychains. He said he’s never seen Romance sit still for more than five minutes, except when he’s waiting for you.

Jinu recognized you from a prior interaction at a performance. He knew you were shy and was a bit surprised you ended up with Romance, the flirt. “I thought they were scared of cameras, turns out they just didn’t want to look at anyone but you.” He’d tease you both.

When asked about his ideal types in interviews he sighs wistfully “Shy. Cute. Soft voice. Gets super shy when I flirt.”

Fans catch on fast.

Especially when they look over clips from when you MC’ed together.

 You two have such different energies that it’s hard not to notice when you interact.

You express your love for him through small, quiet things.

Sharing food.

Fixing his collar.

He especially loves when you hold his pinky under the table.

He expresses love through loud declarations and posting lyrics online that are obviously about you.

He teases you constantly but as soon as you give him a tiny pout, he panics like, “No no no, I’m sorry!! You’re perfect! I love you!”

How your group feels about it!!

Before your first date you were all discussing how crazy everything was.

“Are you sure he’s not just teasing you?”

Your leader gets that protective older sibling energy. 

They know you’re soft-hearted and don't want you to get played, especially by an older idol.

They would watch Romance like a hawk the first few times you two were seen together backstage.

But once they saw how gently he treated you (offering you snacks, never pushing your boundaries, waiting patiently for you to speak), they approved.

Your groups main dancer SCREAMED when they found out. 

"Wait, the flirty guy with the pink hair?? You like that??" they would think for a moment "Actually… okay yeah, I kinda get it."

They constantly tease you about it, always winking when Romance is mentioned.

10/10 ships you both. 

Will start playing Saja Boys songs super loudly in the dorm just to mess with you.

The vocalist, and your closest friend in the group screamed into a pillow when you first told them.

They help you draft texts to him when you’re too nervous to word things perfectly.

You two have sleepovers where you gush about his voice or replay clips where he says your name.

Your groups maknae smirks every time you get a text from him.

“ARE YOU BLUSHINGGG??”

They fully edit videos of your interactions and posts them in your group’s GC.

Overall, they love how he hypes you up, especially since you're so soft-spoken.

“No cause when he said you were the prettiest person he’d ever met on earth on that radio show? I felt like I was gonna cry.”

They're protective, but they’ve also never seen you this happy or confident before.

They think he’s good for you.

He would call you things like :

Angel : All day, everyday. It’s his favorite nickname for you.

Sunshine : When you smile, because he thinks it’s the best thing in the world.

Love : Says it in a lower voice, whenever he wants to make you flustered.

Cutie : Because it’s what you are. 

Y/N-ie : Only in private.

You would call him things like :

Romance-sunbaenim : When you were still getting to know each other. Out of respect (he loved that)

Pretty boy : Under your breath when he’s not listening.

My man : Written in your diary but you’d NEVER say it aloud.

Romi : His contact name in your phone with a pink heart emoji.

Oppa : once you got closer, he loses his mind every time. 

[sevikasbbymama]

Head cannons for Ambessa with a girl who has a country accent

✾𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚/Country!Reader Hc’s

(suggestive content near the end!)

——————

• The first time she heard your voice was at one of those elegant mixers she had gotten the Council to host. She had been convincing some wealthy— well, to her they weren’t — investors to take a look at one of her ideas. Though, it didn’t take much convincing. She was Ambessa Medarda after all.

• You had been grabbing a drink when you felt eyes burning into your back, and when you turned, there she was. Staring at you with a smile that nearly made you drop your cup…

~~

Hc’s

• Ambessa loves to hear you talk. When you lay beside her, she’ll run her hand along your hip just to hear your voice stutter. She learned that a lot of things will make your accent get stronger, and she does everything in her power to get it to happen.

• “Say it again for me darling…” She’ll whisper into your ear, and you have to stop yourself from laughing because she’s asking you to repeat such a simple phrase.

• She loves to make you angry because that’s when your accent becomes the most pronounced. “Oh, it’s all in good fun my love…” “Yeah well it ain’t funny. You’re gonna have to make it up to me or I’m not finishing that damn book you asked me to.” She always does and it leaves you breathless.

• Ambessa gets so disappointed at how your accent doesn’t do anything to her name. You try and tell her it’s because her name is too elegant for anything to change it, but she denies that idea because your accent is the most ethereal thing she’s ever heard.

• When you both have time to relax, she’ll have you sit on her lap and try out different names for her. “Darlin’?” “No, love, I call you that.” “Sugar?” “Hm…” “Lover?” “Oh..! Say it again…”

• Ambessa asks about your home town often, and it really is the most plain thing to you, but Ambessa finds everything about you fascinating.

• When you spend too much time with her, your accent becomes less prominent and she will kick you out…of her room. She’ll make you sit on the couch with your own thoughts until it goes back to normal. “Baby, this ain’t doin’ nothin’!” “See, darling? It’s already working. Be a good girl and just wait a bit longer.” “…she’s gonna stop calling me that, I’m not doin’ this today…”

• During your first, real, argument— you were beyond pissed. Ambessa had blown off your dinner for an important council meeting she didn’t even need to be apart of. She just didn’t trust her messenger to bring her exactly the “right information.” You were livid, and you were voicing that very loudly. And Ambessa really was trying to focus on what you were saying and not how hot you sounded.

• Everytime you see her, you always say “Hey lover…” because it gets Ambessa going. Like…every single time. “Again, darling…”

• Whenever Ambessa has a bad day, you’ll get into the bath together. It took some convincing, but you finally got her to be the one sitting between your legs. You’d lean close and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. “I could spend all night telling you what I like about you, but we’d get nothin’ done. I can hardly focus when you’re around me anyways…” You could tell what was working for her based on how hard she was gripping your thigh.

• Ambessa likes to get you flustered. It makes you laugh, which also makes you forget to try and tone down your accent. “Oh lord, baby, you need to stop doin’ that! You’re makin’ me embarrassed…” “Embarrassed? For what? Having the most darling voice I’ve ever heard?” “…shut up.”

• She like when other people compliment your accent because it makes you more inclined to not hide it. She will immediately shut it down when it becomes flirting.

• “Oh, darling, you make the most beautiful sounds…” “Ah..! You know, baby? I’m— mm— I’m startin’ to think most of your attraction for me is cause of my accent…” “…Well, it is what drew me to you, yes.” “Of course it was— AH! Ambessa!” “See? Beautiful.”

———————

᪥ I actually loved writing this, except I don’t think it should’ve been as difficult as it was considering I literally have a country accent LMAO. If you want, I’ll write a part 2. Oh and if you want headcanons to include NSFW ones as well, let me know!

᪥ Also, let me know if we like the characters dialogue in their signature color. I’d only do that for head canons specifically.

[adrian-stahl]

How expensive is it really to be Goth?

I've already heard a few times on social media that there's people out there who believe, being goth means you need quite a lot of money to dress the part - and therefore be part of the subculture, or - and that's worse - people who tell others that they can't be goth if they can't afford some "trending" brands that are labelled as "goth".

As someone who's goth since the early to mid 90s, I can assure you that all of the above is nothing but bs.

Let me clarify this with a brief history lesson. Goth is a subculture that is very much related to punk - just look at pictures of 80s "goths" (although that term wasn't around yet back then) and remember that one very influential music genre of the subculture is called "Post Punk" - you can dig deeper into all that if you haven't known that connection yet but - yes, Goth always had core beliefs that were inherited by punk - even those of us in the 90s who started to dress more "romantic" in frilled shirts and long velvet gowns shared them.

Goth, like Punk was very much a DiY subculture - you might have heard of that, for some reasons, this was of sheer necessity, there were a few indie brands* around but they weren't available for a lot, and we're talking about times before internet shopping. But it wasn't just necessity. It was also about individuality, not letting "fashion" dictate what you look like and - not fitting a mold of being "conventionally attractive". DiY is also a statement against consumerism and therefore - capitalism. Early punk inspired styles showed this with distressed clothing and upcycling thrifted stuff - but also short lived movements like the early 80s "New Romantics" that were a lot more about historical influences and oppulence were at their core, very punk, because they achieved the look by - DiY, thrifting and Upcycling, and by using their creativity to get a super unique look by combining things in unusual ways. This is just a rough overview that can't, of course, go too deep into everything but - I hope it makes sense. So - if you claim that being goth means you need to buy ready made clothes for horrendous amounts of money - that's the exact opposite of what Goth really is in it's core. It's large companies that make a fortune by selling a false image of "being alt" that they stole from subcultures. Don't get me wrong - I'm not telling you what to do, if you like something from those brands - go for it if you have the means, but maybe I can inspire one or two to just go out and maybe make something to go with the bought stuff - all by themselves, or maybe just think a bit about the "Goth is expensive" bs - it is not. Just open your eyes and get creative - you don't even have to look like straight out of the 80s, come up with something new and unique - make Goth your own and don't throw too much money at the big companies. You don't even have to learn how to sew perfectly, remember - Goth is related to Punk: if it's a bit wonky, it's just fine the way it is ;) - and there's a lot of small things you can do to customize your wardrobe as well - try a few things, keep an open mind and look around you for bits and pieces you can re-use (or abuse ;) ) - trust me, it's fun! You can dye old clothes or stuff you like, but isn't the right colour, you can use bleach to create interesting patterns of fabric, you can add patches, rivets and eyelets, and lace trims, leather belts and nylon tape, and D-Rings and chains ... safety pins and so much more. Thrift things, decorate them, cut them up, re-purpose them.

You have now one advantage that we old fart Goths didn't have: you can find tons of tutorials on the internet, and if you want, I can make some for you as well - or answer questions about sewing and similar stuff. So - thanks for reading until the end. I just had to get these thoughts out of my head. And never forget: Goth is not expensive or elite. Just use your creativity and make it your own, like we did when we were young.

*the early indie brands were small companies, founded by people from the subculture themselves. So - if you have the money, support small indie brands and makers. They still exist.

[howdidigethereimlost]

@forsakencomicunofficial

Hey I wrote a mini oneshot fanfic for this, it's more comedic than angsty though at this point. There's somewhat light gore, pretty much just blood though.

The sun had almost risen, blood littering the grass and stone of the cave alike. 1x1x1x1 stood there, blood on her sword already cooling and drying to a red crust that he knew he'd have to clean later.

One left. Shedletsky. His father. The man who had raised them, had abandoned them. She hated him. Hated Shedletsky. Unfortunately, he was also the best swordsman in the land, a god among men. Shedletsky had created a world for the sole purpose of swordfighting, and he'd seen him still with his classic sword. This wasn't going to be an easy fight.

He tore his own eye out, looking with the newfound glow to the figure hiding, crouched beside a generator in the cave. Who looked up and saw his own child's gaze, stumbling to his feet and drawing his sword.

1x1x1x1 stalked forwards at first, casting necromancy as she walked, watching in the distance as a minion chased Shedletsky out of the save, right into their field of vision.

She threw her swords, looking up to see... Shedletsky get hit. But this was a one off, right? He wasn't fast enough to dodge. That hadn't ever happened before. Shedletsky always dodged. His father always dodged. He only ever got hit when he was cocky, and he didn't look cocky, he looked terrified as he saw 1x1x1x1 start sprinting, albeit not as quickly as Shedletsky started to run. Turning and barely avoiding the minion. 1x1x1x1 ran to the opposite side of the cave, cutting him off.

Shedletsky raised his sword, pausing in place as he did, like it was too heavy to lift and swing normally. 1x1x1x1 casually took a step back, and the blade missed him.

He stared at his father for a few seconds, then at the sword hanging by his side. He wasn't swinging it. He looked back up at 1x1x1x1, blinking.

"...so. Whaddya say you,"

He paused to take a frantic breath.

"- let your old man go..? Just this once, kiddo? I uh... I don't really have the same uh, spark, that I used to at this kind of thing..."

Shedletsky didn't swing again. 1x1x1x1 paused, before laughing, a laugh that grew manic, like she truly found this funny, funny and pathetic.

1x1x1x1 finally caught their breath,

"So you really-?"

"No."

1x1x1x1 swung again, cleaving across Shedletsky's chest, who stumbled backwards, holding a hand over to try to frantically stem the bleeding.

"So, god."

She hissed, voice dripping with venom.

"You want to play the pity card? I know better than that. I wanted a fair fight. Go on. Swing."

Shedletsky chuckled nervously, lifting the hand that wasn't currently trying to keep him from bleeding out to scratch at the back of his neck dramatically.

"I... Can't."

"...can't..?"

1x1x1x1 paused. Actually looking back at Shedletsky. He looked like shit. He was literally barefoot? He didn't have his cloak, just the one sword, and looked like he'd given up on life entirely.

"Yes you can."

Shedletsky looked back up, swaying a bit from the now severe blood loss that was only starting to finally slow now.

"...heh, nope. Can't. Spectre won't let me."

He tried lifting his sword to demonstrate. It wouldn't budge. Like it were suddenly made of lead. He barely managed to get it back into it's sheath, let alone lift it again.

"How long until you can again."

1x1x1x1 snapped back, impatient, and only now realizing that this really meant nothing to her if he were helpless.

"...thirty seconds?"

"You... You're helpless. Truly, helpless. There isn't a chance that's the only thing you can do."

This couldn't be happening. All these years of being lost, and now, finally given the chance to make his creator suffer, all of the fun in the act was gone. Sapped by the entity she was hoping was on her side for once.

"...uh. They also let me carry two fried chicken drumsticks into the match?"

...

"I mean, I don't get a bucket or anything, or a plate, I just carry them in my pockets, but... Uh, it's something. Right?"

There was no fun in killing Shedletsky anymore, no fun in finally making him suffer. He was weak. This wasn't fair. Where's the pride in defeating a god when the god has been stripped of even the most basic means of self defense?

He looked up at Shedletsky. Noting that the blood had finally stopped. And watched him, intently, as he went for his pocket, pulling out, as he'd claimed to have, a fucking drumstick. And eating it right there. Like it was going to do anything.

"You, just... You really don't have anything else?"

"...no."

FORSAKEN - MINI COMIC 2 - THE PROMISE

After a while, finally a new mini comic! hope you like it! :D

[trevination]

notes from when i saw the outsiders on july 2nd, the evening show!! covers were: davis as soda, jena as ace, jordan as steve, henry as chet, and mathew as brill

act 1

- JENA WINKED AT ME DURING THE DEIVE IN

- during great expectations when johnny is introduced he was Staring right at me the whole time we made very intense eye contact

- right after two bit says “let’s get outta here” marcia whispered “i’m sorry” to pony so heartfelt it killed me

- emma cherry seems so like. genuinely realizing that not all grasses are the some during the drive in + icttyan

- omg. brody pony. oh my god

- he’s so expressive and he’s SO YOUNG. HES SO YOUNG HES JUST A BABY

- during riftr, pony seemed so like. god. he like knew that he was pushing too far but he couldn’t stop himself and he felt bad for being late and he wanted to say sorry but his teenage boy pride and anger and grief

- DAVIS SODA. HOLY SHIT

- he’s so. he’s so explicitly stuck between darrel and pony

- he’s pony’s older brother and darry’s younger brother. So Clwarly. if that makes any since

- his face kept twitching after pony brought up sandy. like. oh my god

- he’s so clearly pulling himself together for pony. some of his line deliveries were so fake

- THE WAY HE DID “CAUSE UR SO BRAINT” WAS SO OLDER BROTHER

- GGAH WAS SO SO FUN 😭😭

- jena ace….. oh my god

- oh my god when darrel said “wash that grease outta ur hair” ace like paused and her face fell and she gentle felt her greased down bangs before steve distracted her

- STEVE AND ACE ARE SO VEOTHER AND SISTER 😭😭

- when darrel was talking to pony during ggah, steve made some remark at pony and ace slapped his arm and chided him

- henry chet is EVERYTHING i love his ad libs and expressions. he’s trying to fit in so clearly

- when dally walked by henry chet said “i think ya uh, missed a little something” and dally got so pissed he threw cole trip to the floor

- MARCIA AND TRIP ARE SO TOUCHY THEYRE SO TEENAGERES IN LOVE

- marcia went to stop bob and cole grabbed her and she seemed so troubled and clung to trip as he’s whispered to her

- during the drive jn steve like . jerked his crotch and marcia’s jaw dropped and she yelled “THAT WAS SI! INSPPRORIATE!!”

- does. does cole always. um. eat ace out???? during rrb???? i missed so much cause that’s all i noticed

- oh my god ace and soda . they’re so everything. they aren’t so much flirty but they’re like besties. they annoy each other soooo so much <3

- mathew brill and melody bev are as thick as thieves. mathew brill also just Feels so much :(

act 2

- OH MY GOD

- jft WAT DOWN MELODY

- brody keeps crashing out his ponyboy 100% has a anxiety disorder LMAO

- “you like that shit, huh?!” soda said as he’s pinning chet down… oh i bet

- cole trip making a show of his rings being off and then sliding them back on. yes

- THE RUMBLE!!!!! cole’s head nearly fell into my lap i Swear he was so so close

-

- soda’s letter. no one talk to me. he was so sincerely and heartfelt

- soda’s breakdown was genuinely a breaking point. he was yelling, angry, voice cracking and going hoarse. and then his voice caught on a sob and goshhh.

- alex dally…. holy shit all his choices are so perfect i don’t even know how to describe it

- alex dally is just so perfectly. everything. he’s a young boy he’s been on the run for years, he’s perfectly guarded, he has a heart bigger than he wants it to be. his little brother was sickening

- the lines “that’s what you get!” and “does anybody care?” we’re so quiet. he wasn’t angry he was so broken and lost and done

- pony looked so terrified during little brother monologue as he was describing everything

- he was so dissociated after johnny died. soda had to pull at him and tug him to hug, he didn’t move until he crawled away to climb the jungle gym thing

- ace collapsed into soda’s chest and soda shakily brought her closer

- soda and cherry before stay gold 😭😭😭 besties

- act two i wasn’t super focused on details, i was just in the moment so these notes aren’t as good haha

- brody was Crashing out as pony over burt lancaster, going back to tulsa everything. he’s very scared and jumpy and anxious. he was panicking and yelling for most of the fire monologue. you can tell his ponyboy is traumatized from everything

- davis soda throwing in the towel… my life is completely. you could so clearly see him realize Everything was falling apart and his efforts to hold everything together did nothing. when he said “i don’t know what else to say” i believed it. he was lost but he loves both his brothers and that was all he had

- johnny was so excited seeing the sunset they were so sweet

- the show was just idek. everything was amazing. everything was so beuaiktful.

- cherry made me cry during hopeless war she was EVERYTHING

- little brother hit extra hard tn. alex held that note long so it was just his voice echoing at the end

- the finale :( was so sweet my heart was pounding so fast. i didn’t get the book, a rlly cute little kid did :)

- idek what else to say

- hth ace and steve <3333 brother and sister ever

[ellitx]

Omg venti x mermaid reader IS ON MY MIND AHHHH mainly because like how would they have sex AND IF THEY HAD A BABY WHERE WOULD THE BABY COME OUT AND EGG HER WOMB

Anyways do u have any idea how that WOUKD even work 😭

I see we have another case of rhinedottir’s bizarre investigation and her research on this unusual pregnancy phenomenon (pls keep them coming, gold will be delighted to do more research)

Through the power of teyvat has its own laws, venven has two options:

Either darling will gulp gulp his seeds or he will breed her like how dolphins do

For the first method, instead of usual vaginal penetration, mermaid darling has to utilize her pretty mouth and give venven a blowjob to stimulate him. The experience will be, without a doubt, overwhelming.

The salty taste, the texture, the muskiness will be unfamiliar, but also very addictive. Venti will try to be gentle and not push himself too far, but mermaids have distinguished “pheromones” or scent that will heighten his arousal.

Once venti cums, she has to swallow every single drop. If not, the spell will be undone and it will be impossible to conceive a child. They can try as many times as they want, but too much attempt will be dangerous for venti if he’s been surrounded by a mermaid pheromones for too long. Otherwise this will result to hallucinations.

It’s just a mermaid response if ever they were in danger and they could escape if they were caught.

As for the second method, venven will lay his mate down on her back and search for the slit on her tail. Mermaid darling’s genitals are hidden and it might take some time searching it when her pretty scales concealed them well.

And well to fully open the slit, he has to stimulate her before putting his cock inside.

Now here’s the fun part.

Venven can shape shift yes?

He can change his cock size if he wants to while penetrating mermaid darling. Mermaids just have complex folds and if his seeds couldn’t travel far to fertilize her egg, he just has to make himself bigger right? He’ll show her he’s worthy of being her mate and be the perfect father for their children.

Oh how he admired the look on her face when he made his dick big while still inside. So girthy, so hard, so heavy and hot. He wanted to see more and he wanted to feel more.

He wanted to be deep in her. He wanted to feel every inch and wanted to get lost.

Venti will try every angle and speed on how to impregnate her. He wanted his child to be healthy. And for that, he must give his best shot.

Everything felt so wet and slicky. He moved his hips again, and again, and again. His rhythm was erratic, his breathing barely more than a grunt that accompanied each thrust inside her.

Darling’s slippery body was pressed right up against his as he drove so deep into her that he saw sparks. He emptied his seeds inside, spilling and jerking wildly as his cock pulsed.

Darling’s body and tail glowed from ecstasy, her hair a mess as few strands stick onto her hair, panting heavily with a weak smile on her face.

Ah, his seeds were finally in her.

It was a matter of time until she conceived a child.

—

Gold: albedo note that down! Note that down!

Albedo: yes mother

[fernsplace]

LATE NIGHT LORE! 𖤐

summary: late night lore is a live broadcast run by sam winchester as a means of making a little extra cash. it's for freaks & geeks alike to learn about the supernatural and tell their own stories. all is well until a mysterious caller becomes a late night regular. word ct: 4.6k content: sam & dean are hunters. oc? sam winchester falls for a monster (again). fun, silly, goofy. not to be taken seriously.

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

> START RECORDING… 00:00:01 <

“this is sam, and you’re listening to late night lore...”

the mic crackled, cutting in and out occasionally. duct tape covered the cord in various places as an attempt to mend the frayed wires.

twisting the cord between his fingers, sam continued.

“…your late night stop to hear all about some of the greatest paranormal legends in history. we also like to get personal around here, so if you got something real, don’t be afraid to call it in. if it’s fake, well, make it good.”

he leaned forward in the creaky motel chair, his back stiff from from what was supposed to be a simple salt and burn two states ago. his fingers slid around his track pad as he fixed the audio levels. the software he used was pirated and not without bugs, so it was important that he kept a close eye on it.

he used an old lavalier mic that he had bought for five bucks from a dingy wholesale store. the kind that sold books and decor that nobody wanted. it worked fine, though he had to hold the wire at an angle on occasion to keep it from turning off.

next to him was a coffee cup that had already gone cold. he kept his voice down, just above a whisper. dean, who had been driving all day, was face down, asleep on the bed just a few feet away.

late night lore was the name of his podcast. he broadcasted it live on some open forum paranormal website that he’d found called ghostfacers. the guys who ran it were crazy, fame hungry nerds, sam thought. but they took an interest in him. and, they were paying him.

it wasn’t much, but enough for gas or food here and there.

sam started his podcast when he was up late one night looking into a rugaru case. he stumbled upon the forum and noticed in bright blue letters, REAL ghost enthusiast needed for research. PAID POSITION!!!!! ONLY real business inquiries email here:

he didn’t know why he sent an email, but he did. turns out not only were the ghostfacers, as they called themselves, way in over their heads in a werewolf case, but they also thought sam to be an incredible teacher.

so, they offered him to take over their broadcast. so long as he gets a few listens, he makes money. easy enough.

most nights were slow, only receiving one or two calls within the hour time slot he allotted for this job. most were weirdos and skeptics—people who believed they were abducted by aliens.

on one particular night, he fought with a guy who claimed to see a chupacabra in minnesota. it got so heated that dean, who had been sitting across from sam, got himself involved. he called the man a slurry of insults before slamming sam’s computer closed. he promptly took away dean’s rights to giving his two cents.

“…so yeah. until then, why don’t i tell y’all a bit about vengeful spirits?”

sam enjoyed the quiet nights where he could spend the hour simply reading from a lore book. in his heart, he was a student. he loved to learn, and so when he left stanford, he became the brains of the duo. yeah, dean could hunt on his own, but this way, they weren’t bringing guns to a demon fight.

outside, the wind kicked. rain was battering the walls. he could see the sound being picked up on the mic, probably muffling his voice a bit, but there was nothing he could do about it.

he had two callers back to back at the half hour mark. one guy believed his dead grandma was changing the channel to little house on the prairie while he slept on the couch. another swore his fridge was speaking latin, trying to warn him of something grave. sam did his best to take the stories without judgement, though he did sometimes have to mute his mic to let out a stifled chuckle.

at a quarter to one, the line beeped again. another caller.

he tapped his tracked pad, the cursor already hovering over the answer button.

“you’re on late night lore, whatcha got?”

there was a pause, long enough to make him think he’d lost them. then came a girl’s voice. small and distant, like she wasn’t quite near the phone.

“hi, i’m red. location, new york.”

it was courtesy to share your name and location, giving sam a good place to start in the rare instance that there might actually be a case.

“alright, red. whatdya have?”

he hears her sigh. not dramatically, but like she had told this story many times and was growing tired of it.

“you ever heard something breathing under your floorboards?”

sam’s eyes brows furrowed and he slid his small leather journal in front of him.

“maybe once or twice. poltergeist in topeka liked to hear himself talk.” he spoke. it was easy to joke in this kind of work. everybody either believed anything or nothing at all. it was sort of unserious. nobody really knew these things were real.

“it knew my name.” red was much quieter now. sam thought he heard a waver in her voice.

he sat up straighter, holding his left headphone to his ear as he scribbled in his journal.

“it mimicked my voice,” she went on. “it was perfect. screamed for help from under my bed. over and over. it wouldn’t stop. it—it even tricked my mom.”

a chill ran up his spine, and sam rubbed his forehead with his fingers. clicking his pen, he breathed out a heavy exhale.

“she came in and saw me on my bed completely fine. thought i was messing with her. she left before i could ask her to look beneath for monsters.”

a dry laugh escaped her lips, but she still sounded uneasy. sam, unsettled by the story, let his shoulders drop at the relief of nobody being hurt.

“we moved out soon after,” she said. “didn’t hear it for a while.”

sam thought for a moment.

“and now?”

there was shuffling on the other end of the line.

“i think it’s back.”

a silence washed over them. sam checked the listener count as it jumped from thirty five to forty one. not bad.

usually, calls were a bit more lighthearted, moreso him spitting off basic monster facts or lecturing a civilian on the dangers of exploring abandoned buildings with rich paranormal histories.

the fear in red’s voice though, felt all too real.

“what makes you think that?”

“i can feel it. it’s eyes watching me—whatever it is. but i’m alone now, so everything feels much darker than it is. so maybe it’s nothing.”

sam smiled apologetically despite knowing that she couldn’t see his expression. he understood. the late nights sitting on his bed, eyes staying fixed on the door handle. the way he gripped his dad’s pistol when he and dean left on a hunting trip. he knew the discomfort of understanding that something was always there even if he couldn’t see it.

“i get it,” he offered, “still in new york?”

“yeah, just a little more upstate.”

sam tapped the back of his pen on the table. he checked the time: 1:02am.

“well, good news—it doesn’t seem angry, or like it wants to hurt you. could be a ghost, any type really,” he sifted through files in his brain, looking for any information that could help.

“that’s comforting.” they both chuckled at that.

“do you have any old family heirlooms, or objects that were passed down? think, a necklace or watch that you might’ve brought with you.” sam asked.

a beat, “not that i know of…” red trailed off.

sam yawned, nails coming up to his lips as he thought. that likely rules out a haunted object.

he was silent for a moment. more shuffling came from her end of the line. like static.

“i’m not boring you, am i?” he could imagine the teasing smile on her lips.

he exhaled, his own smile forming. “you have me stumped, actually.”

“i’ll take that as a compliment, sam.”

his cheeks felt warm for a moment, but he collected himself, sitting upright.

“it’s just—if not a haunted object, its gotta be something else. doesn’t seem to fit the profile of a demon, or shifter, or—“

she cut him off.

“it’s okay, really. just here to share my story, not solve it. besides, it hasn’t really bothered me since i let it in.”

sam’s breath hitched.

“let it in? you let it into your house?”

her voice didn’t falter.

“into me.”

with a click, the line went dead.

> END RECORDING… 01:08:34 <

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

he sat there for a long time, staring at his computer. the soft hum of the motel electricity blended with dean’s low snores. the silence was deafening now that he was left to his own thoughts.

he replayed the recording twice before he shut it off again, listening to her voice intensely. into me. what could she have possibly meant?

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

the following morning, dean was sprawled on the far bed, still snoring. sam sat at the table with his laptop open to the forum, typing furiously.

“dude, it’s like five am, why’re you up?” dean grumbled without opening his eyes.

“had a call last night,” sam said, scanning his analytics. “recording went viral. a few other forums picked it up.”

dean cracked his eyes open, they burned when the sun hit them. “possessed dog, scary grandpa?”

sam rolled his eyes. “no, it was different. real even.”

dean groaned again, rolling onto his back before sitting at the edge of the bed.

“everytime you say that, it ends up being a fake.”

he didn’t answer. the numbers were still climbing, and questions kept flying in. discussion posts were more active than he had ever seen them. the call had stirred something. people were obsessed.

who was red? was it actually a ghost? a new type of monster? what had she let in?

he scrolled through the comments. most were speculation, some crude jokes. but none were particularly onto something.

COMMENTS:

> she sounded terrified! > some little bitch just messing with us. if you can’t take it seriously, don’t call at all!!!!!!!!! [x] this comment has been deleted by the moderator. > possibly a hallucination? can some monsters do that? djinn? -> not how djinns work dumbass

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

just three nights later, red called again. same time, same quiet voice.

“hey, sam,” she said. “it’s red. i figured the freaks deserved a sequel to my ghost issue.”

he smiled, just a little. she had definitely seen the buzz around her story.

“you’ve got fans.”

she made a sound of lighthearted disgust, “gross.”

propped up at the table of a new motel in a new state, sam sat quietly, humming to let her know he was ready. he pulled out his journal and pen. a quick glance at the listeners let him know that more people were listening in, intrigued by red.

she told a similar story. this time, she heard her floorboards creak despite living alone. her cabinets opened on their own. the same old ghost stories that everyone told. except for one detail.

��i saw him. i tried to record him, but it’s just me in the video. nobody else. every night he stands there, watching.”

sam swallowed, furrowing his eyebrows.

"why're you still there?"

"same reason you still run this show." her voice was rough, like the answer had been obvious.

he sat for a moment, confused by what she meant. but she continued before he could ask.

"maybe i'm waiting for something..." red trailed off. she sounded somber now, a little disappointed maybe.

"for what?" sam was hesitant to ask, having no idea what she would say.

she was silent. no sound aside from the crackle of his mic and movement on her end. he looked down at his notes, unprepared for how to lead this conversation. he was sure now, that her ghost problem wasn't like his usual calls.

either she was a damn good actress, or something was actually messing with her. he leaned in close to the mic.

"do you need help?"

sure, he didn't have much valuable information to go off of, but he and dean had hunted on less.

“do you?”

sam shook his head slightly, taken aback by her question. he blinked.

"sorry?" he continued, "what do you mean?"

the line went quiet.

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

she had started as background noise. red's voice and her stories. they were curious, compelling, but nothing too sinister or crazy. same old, same old.

she'd talk about seeing the ghost again. how it never tried to hurt her, but it watched her. sam tried his best to get more information out of her. what did it look like? could you see its eyes? are you sure you're not accidentally carrying a haunted object on you? an old flask? a damn strand of hair in a locket?

nothing. she could never make out any details. it was getting frustrating, not being able to read her, or help her for that matter. yet, in each state that he and dean crossed into, deep down, he hoped he'd stumble upon her case.

he began to listen back to the recordings after each broadcast, listening for anything in the background. but his microphone was shitty and picked up every noise no matter how minuscule.

the ghostfacers forum had blown up. the analytics for late night lore nearly quadrupled in two weeks. comments were flooding in every hour and he was drowning in emails.

most concerned red.

COMMENTS:

> WHEN’S SHE CALLING BACK??? > do y’all think the chick's like possessed? haha > bro this shit's wild

a subforum had even opened up on the website and listeners used it as a place to decode her story. many tried looking into her identity, claiming they wanted to be the first to solve her strange case.

a handful however, didn't believe her. they pointed out inconsistencies in her claims, tearing apart her words until there was nothing more to destroy.

opinions were mixed.

and she kept calling.

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

RED FILE #006: potential mimic?

“you ever get the feeling something is learning you?” she asked one night. at a quarter to one on the dot, she called. sam began to expect her calls every other night. looking forward to them.

“learning you?” he echoed.

“like...studying. picking up on your habits."

he paused. “is he...copying you?”

“maybe. he used to be a shadow." sam blinked, sitting up a bit straighter now.

"he. so he's a he?" he was getting somewhere. if this thing had a face, maybe he could figure out what it was that he was after.

"used to be. now i see me."

“what do you mean?”

“not me me. something’s off. a little too tall. arms too long. more... evil looking. little things."

sam made a note in his journal. “shifter maybe. strange that it's just hanging around though. that's not typical of 'em." his leg bounced beneath the table. this could be bad.

red sighed. “whatever it is, i don't like it. it's like... it's showing me the worst parts of myself."

sam dropped his head, sympathizing with her. he knew what it was like to having some thing show you the evil that sat inside you, waiting to be dug up.

"it's—“ she started, but a muffled noise cut her off. sam groaned, taking the cord of his headphones and folding it over itself. he forced it into different angles, believing it to be a problem on his end.

"red, you there?"

after a beat, she was back.

"yeah, uh. i was just saying, it's kind of...alluring. in a strange, fucked up paranormal way." she breathed. her voice was low and quiet.

"you're fascinating. your story, i mean." sam brushed his hand over the back of his neck.

"i'm fascinating?"

sam let out a breathy chuckle as he checked the time on his laptop. 1:35AM. way over time.

"yeah, yeah i suppose."

══ ❘༻ .��.༺❘ ══

the messages kept coming.

COMMENTS:

> BRO I THINK I SAW RED IN MY BASEMENT. -> you dont even know her... > my mom says her voice makes her skin crawl. i think it's real. my mom knows best. trust > red if ur reading this... marry me.

dean had finally caught up on the red lore.

“didn't take you for the anonymous type. you are a mystery, sammy.” he joked, "tell me you're not falling for this shifter crap."

sam sighed. "no."

dean raised an eyebrow. “you sure?”

“no. but i think there's something else going on here.”

dean leaned back against the window of the impala. "you don't know her man, maybe she's a fraud. like those friggin' ghostfacers." he was never totally into the idea of sam working for them. they were no more reliable than the boy who cried wolf.

sam shook his head and brought his thumb to his lips, nibbling at his nail. “there's more to it. i know it. she's scared, i can tell. if i could just— figure out what the hell it is. but she's not telling me everything."

dean muttered, “you were always too kind for your own good."

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

[saved draft] RED FILE #009

“this time, i woke up with dirt under my nails.” red continued, “but i don’t remember digging.”

“do you know why you might've?”

“no. but i woke up crying.”

he swallowed. “are you safe, red?”

a long pause. muffled silence, like she was moving around.

“no."

> END RECORDING… 01:56:21 <

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

sam didn't upload that night's broadcast. she ended the call immediately.

on the forum, conspiracies popped up each minute. fan messages clogged his email. some claiming to be red. none were her.

he spent that night trying to track her call, but it was no use. she called from a private line.

COMMENTS:

> did some digging. if you count the seconds she went silent, it adds to 16 seconds. this mean anything?? -> 16 is the number of lucifer. -> source? -> guy tarade -> some rando french guy????????

> is this an arg or real life i am shaking please

on the car ride to a werewolf case in new york just two nights later, sam swept through his emails. mostly spam or uninteresting in general, he deleted them. until one caught his eye:

SUBJECT: 12257 North Rd New York

hey sam. i know you're a hunter. as much i hoped you were just another lore nerd, i could really use some help. red xx

sam swallowed, glancing towards dean. they were already headed that way. was it worth it?

"she needs help." he kept his voice low and steady. that was the best way to get through to him.

“let me guess,” he said, not looking up from the dark road. “she finally told you where she is. and when we get there, it'll be a bust. a wild goose chase.”

sam kept his eyes forward, not entertaining his brother. "she knows i'm a hunter." this was serious.

dean's eyes flickered on him and down to his laptop. the message still glowed on the screen.

dean narrowed his eyes. “you sure about this?”

sam hesitated. “if anything, i'll get answers. you owe me this."

“i'm sorry, i owe you this?” dean raised his eyebrows. he thought for a moment, lips pulling to one side. sam exhaled a laugh, eyes catching dean's. a look of embarrassed realization. “yeah. maybe i owe you this.”

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

they drove north into wet pines. the roads turned to gravel. the address led them to a clearing tucked into overgrown forest, where a barn stood rotting in the moonlight.

it seemed abandoned, but the winchesters knew better.

sam stepped out of the impala first, flashlight in one hand, while the other stayed close to his blade. dean held a pistol tight in his right hand. blade in his back pocket. he grimaced.

“i’ve got a real bad feeling, sammy.”

sam said nothing. he could feel it too. in the way the large barn door was open just a crack, and how there seemed to be a mess of an indistinguishable amount of footprints leading up to it.

they stepped further into the clearing toward the barn. as they got closer, they noticed a faint light flickering inside. dean raised a hand to the door, tilting his head to signal his brother to get back.

before he could pull the door open, a dark shape ran from the side of the barn. sam spun, blade raised high. but he hesitated.

in front of him stood a girl. barefoot and breathless. her eyes were wide with panic.

“you need to leave,” her voice shook, “right now.”

sam froze.

“red?”

her eyes flicked to his. they were apologetic and pierced his skin. she nodded.

“you aren’t supposed to be here, i—“

dean raised his gun, stepping forward. before he could say anything, a mob of dark figures emerged from the barn.

sam barely had time to draw his blade before one of them tackled him. dean grabbed the blade from his pocket and swung as hard as he could, lodging it into a man’s neck.

fangs. pale skin.

they were up against a vampire nest.

sam hit the dirt hard, his weapon skidding across the mud. he struggled beneath the weight of a vamp, desperately trying to push him off.

“glad you got my message.” it growled, “she did good didn’t she?”

he shifted his gaze towards red. she stood stiff among the chaos, just staring.

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

she didn’t know what to do. this was what she wanted. this was her job. but now all she could feel was regret. guilt laid heavy on her chest.

she grabbed the vamp by his shirt, pulling it off of sam. her strength was unnatural. sam could see the hunger in her eyes. her fangs peaked through her lips.

she was one of them.

“go!” red shouted.

sam managed to get to his feet, stumbling backwards. he turned to run back to the car—to grab a machete. but a hit to the back of his head sent him to the ground.

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

red trembled in the grip of a vamp. he wrapped an arm around her, hard enough to leave bruises. they were in the barn now. only lit by a single flickering light. tied to a beam that ran from the ceiling to the floor, was sam, unconscious. dean, among the chaos, had managed to get away.

red was smart enough to know that he’d be back soon. she hoped he’d be fast. she didn’t want this—never did. not really.

she grew up in this life. taught to charm. to lure. but it wasn’t until sam that she truly rejected it. the sincerity and care in his voice flipped a switch in her. she was hopeful now, that she could be different.

but rules are rules. she had to follow the lead of her nest.

sam stirred and his head pounded in his skull. he groaned, pulling at the rope that bound his wrists. he didn’t open his eyes. instead, he listened to the conversation that echoed off the walls.

“he’s a hunter. he needs to be killed.” one vamp said.

“and let the other get away? no, he’ll be back. let’s wait it out, then drain them both.”

red struggled against the vamp that held her.

“uh uh uh.” he warned, snarling.

“he’s mine.” she lowered her voice. she wore a stern expression, the best she could muster up. she cringed internally. the others seemed shocked, but didn't question her. she was the nest's favorite after all, the one who caught their food. the one who kept them in the dark, safe from hunters.

she nodded her head towards the barn door, signaling for the vamps to leave her be. they followed orders, mumbling to each other as they passed. agitated.

sam squinted his eyes open. his head hung low towards his chest. it felt hazy, pressure weighing heavily over his eyes.

red kneeled down in front of him, hand coming up to brush his jaw. he flinched away.

"i'm sorry," she whispered, using his blade to cut through the thick ropes that held him down. he didn't look at her. his chest rose and fell quickly. blood stained his shirt. he wasn't sure if it was his own.

"why?"

"i'm not like them. i don't want to be like them. not anymore."

his wrists were red and bruised. he sat up straighter, finally taking her in. her eyes shined in the flicker of the light. her lips were a maroon color that complimented her pale skin. her fangs sill poked through her lips, thirsty.

"yeah? why now?"

she hesitated, "because when we spoke, you reminded me that i was human once. you cared for me."

she was earnest, but sam shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. she was a monster, no?

"i didn't know you were a vamp."

"now you do. do you still care?"

sam widened his eyes, taken aback by the question. he thought for a moment. he did still care. she may not be in the sort of trouble he originally thought, but maybe he can still help her.

"have you fed?" he asked wearily.

"what?"

"i said, have you fed?"

red stuttered, "of course i have. i, i've been like this for years. i had to survive."

sam shook his head with a sigh.

"but i can change! anything, i'll try anything else. please, i can't keep getting people killed." her eyes glassed over, tears threatening to fall. she spoke quickly, eyes darting to the barn door. sam searched them for a glint of deceit, but he saw nothing. just guilt. he's let monsters go before.

footsteps, heavy and fast, approached the door.

"listen to me. dean is gonna run through that door and he's gonna kill you. you gotta run." he spoke fast, rushing to his feet.

red turned on her heels, ready to run to the back door, but a voice yelled out.

"sam! sam, you good?" dean wielded a machete that glimmered in the dim light. sam positioned himself between red and his brother.

"dean, put it down." he breathed.

"sam, what the hell're you doing?" he put his hands up in defense, machete straight out in front of him.

"letting her go—“

"the hell you are!"

"dean, she didn't want this. she can change—“

"that's what they all say when their only other option is death. sam, you know this!" disappointment dripped from dean's lips. he continued, "she lured us here. is this what we do? give monsters a get outta jail free card?"

sam swallowed. dean was right. but, "she saved me."

"she tried to kill you first." the older boy stepped forward. threatening.

"but she didn't."

red spoke, panic laced in her voice.

"i'm not asking for mercy. just a head start."

a deafening silence took over. old pipes dripped faintly, and the rain had finally begun to fall. dean's eyes shifted to sam's, reading them. they were sincere, almost begging. please don't do it.

dean sighed, lowering his weapon slowly, arm trembling from adrenaline. he thought back to the innocent people he’d met before. those who had been turned, or rejected the evil in their veins. most who he’d never seen again, or who had at the very least, stayed low on the radar.

he thought about his brother. who had practically drowned himself in demon blood not too long ago. he changed.

with a groan, dean spoke.

"go. you run, we never see you again." he took another step forward, "we catch wind of you, so help me god, you're dead."

red nodded frantically. she stepped behind sam and made her way towards the back door. she met his kind eyes one last time.

"thank you," she whispered. and then she was gone, running off into the woods.

both boys took a breath. dean smacked sam on the back of his head, gritting his teeth.

"you're gonna get us killed. quit falling for damn monsters."

══ ❘༻ .𖤐.༺❘ ══

notes: a little alex action tehee (love her) this was supposed to be an entirely different story, but i got carried away. this was just a simple & fun fic to cleanse my mind after preacher's daughter. hope you enjoy!

if you'd like to be added to my taglist, let me know! don't be shy!

taglist: @ambiguous-avery . @iamaslytherin0 . @zenoxl . @hollyfranklin . @thelastwayward

[johnlockifconvenient]

Her - Megan Thee Stallion - Lestat de Lioncourt

I am she, she is me

(click the title to view on youtube)

@actofheartbreak @theprodigaldaughterisback @andrewgowerfans @marmarthehatterverse @willneverbeordinary

@boring-side-effect @wo-mary @crueclown22 @innmortality @ohh1hghjgvhhj2

@reesegarrett @uughthisbitch @lovelylittlelosers @ofakingandhislionheart @sparklysneke

@gayboymolloy

[adore-gregor]

ayyy

[heartshattering]

5 AM

Just me and my overactive mind facing the nighttime again 🙃

[depresseddepot]

weird thing about me is that I am so serious about new year's resolutions that the last week of december feels like I'm in one of those "preparing for war" montages (but in a good way)

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[coolbeans495]

Finished The Turing Test...........

LET ME GIVE T.O.M. A HUG I FEEL AWFUL 😭😭😭

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)