#and yet she STILL FUCKING CONFUSES ME

[peaches2217]

Miku NT... Miku NT why are you like this...

[jils-things]

i went wandering off in my pokespe gallery and had to relieve how wonderful this scene played out. no kidding

please dont read the tags i got emotional there /lh

[mauv-the-bluest-cat-ever]

i have my benefits of not being out as trans (which is. only one really but it is not being harassed because i dont attract attention) but it fucks with my sense of self

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

okay but. success! all of my grandparents now know i'm trans and my preferred name!! they all took it well, if occasionally confused!! only six people left to go then i'm out to all of my family and can finally rest!!

[alex-just-vibing]

grah my head feels like it might explode

[wookgerine]

Love that they take Bella with the gym with them all the time

[publicuniversalenemy]

you CUNT. what the fuck.

[bigpeepee]

my friend from work is so completely ignorant about queer things that it's genuinely shocking sometimes. like today I found out she thought that in lesbian couples one person had to be the man and one the woman, and by that she meant like butch/femme. and I was like. oh girl. we have sooooo much work to do

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

[milo-is-rambling]

If I’ve gained nothing good from my med increase at the very least I have stopped picking the skin on my lips to the point that I no longer dry enough patches to actually pick at. I am calling this a win. Also my med increase has been good in general but yknow. Life .

[shidoukanae]

also now realizing there's a heavy possibility that the unknown event Daniel references where he asks Lyla "how are you going to find your happiness?" is the same event Helene references when she tells Lyla that Lyla "betrayed" her.

Coincidentally, that's probably the same event that allowed Helene to be manipulated by the Empress into turning against Lyla and might have been the cause of Daniel leaving Lyla (probably to find out how to awaken as a dragon so he could gain the power to take her away from her family faster? maybe even going so far as to try and compete w/ Paris for the throne if it means protecting Lyla?)

There's also a suspicious gap of time from when Helene was poisoned to when she told Lyla to get away from her that has been omitted. And considering baby Lyla cries about Helene not wanting to be with her anymore...and that same baby Lyla is seen hugging Daniel in the unexplored scene...Lyla what the fuck did you do to Helene to embitter her like this?

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either. 

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck. 

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right? 

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked. 

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him. 

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor. 

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies. 

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything. 

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you. 

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?” 

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face. 

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember. 

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex. 

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either. 

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault. 

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs. 

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ INSPO

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[starboundsingularities]

good lird they did not make a gimmick blog about a real life murder

#someone fucking DIED but whatever who gives a shit it's funny i guess

7 notes

🥚 eggvidenced Follow

honestly with how suspicious and confusing everything on the dl-6 case was i wouldn't be surprised if it came out that it was that prosecutor guy tbh

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

date posted: june 23, 2010

1,834,853 notes

⚖️ courtofpublicopinions Follow

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

ok hear me out. what abt winston payne though

🧊 just--ice Follow

okay now they're just making lawyers up

#also didn't mvk die or something?

28,932 notes

🔥 triedbyfire Follow

why the fuck are you people still posting about the gavinners as if theyre not copaganda. didn't the guitarist get convicted of murder

🎸 guiltiest-lovers837 Follow

so fucking tired of this "um um didn't daryan get convicted of murder" YEAH AND HE'S LITERALLY NOT IN THE FUCKING BAND ANYMORE. dipshit

🔥 triedbyfire Follow

are you gonna address the copaganda thing or

1,092 notes

🌻 attorneybout Follow

he's so. 😳

📂 trialanderror Follow

why is he defending

📂 trialanderror Follow

OP WHY IS HE DEFENDING???

24,374 notes

🦈 giantlakemonsters Follow

i just wanna hear about another gourdy sighting thats all

🥜 liberdeez Follow

op. i'm so sorry op. gourdy isn't real you have to let her go. they had a whole trial about it.

🔐 wrightorwrong Follow

hi!! so this isn't actually the case as while gourdy was briefly mentioned in a trial, said trial had nothing to do with whether or not gourdy was "real" per se as much as. well. murder, actually. while gourdy WAS found out to be an inflatable steel samurai this was not brought up in the case at all as the veracity of gourdy wasn't really as relevant as the fact that the witness was looking for gourdy rather than at the murder she claimed to have seen. plus this was also a relatively small part of a MUCH larger trial which for those interested not only solved the dl-6 case but ALSO marked the end of prosecutor von karma's ~40 year long record and the court records are really a fascinating read through!!

🦀 mad_libz_87 Follow

net 0 information post

#thanks again lawblr

94,834 notes

🍒 cherriescoola Follow

btw i was at the park the other day and klavier gavin (of gavinners fame) was there and obv there was a huge crowd but this guy was there with him and at some point he (the other guy) waved to the crowd and someone still screamed like it was klavier??? who was that guy ive never seen him before in my life

2,284 notes

🩸 has-dl6-been-solved-yet Follow

December 28, 2016

YES!!!

702,947 notes

🪙 tellerlikeitis Follow

guys help i'm a bank teller and this guy just introduced himself as robin banks what do i do

🔪 violencekilling Follow

you gotta let him rob you that's the law

302,948 notes

👻 ghostesswiththemostest Follow

look if i ever get convicted of murder im just hiring the lawyer with the coolest sounding name

💼 courtofwaw Follow

bestie if you already got convicted it is Too Late

62,193 notes

📋 lawandwhoreder Follow

guys i know it's real fun to think people just can predict whatever but if you look at the earliest reblogs of that post that "guessed" the true killer in the dl-6 case it was actually a post about how they didn't want to go to the store. clearly edited

#stg nobody bothers to factcheck anything anymore

7,293 notes

🐺 lawnewolf Follow

i am NOT homophobic or whatever the fuck you guys are saying now i just think its weird to write fanfiction about realass people?? go touch grass ffs

🌈 lawsbian Follow

the fun police (this guy) putting me in yaoi court but the lawyers (phoenix witrght and miles edgeworth) just keep trying to make out (real court is like this too btw)

🐺 lawnewolf Follow

YOU HAVE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU.

#look idc what your enemies to lovers fic bullshit says #they're straight. and more importantly REAL PEOPLE. #there's TENSION because they are in COURT and there are LIVES on the LINE. #not because they wanna fuck. god.

12,293 notes

🔮 inhighspirits Follow

why dont they just ask the spirit mediums to ask the victims who killed them this law shit is easy

837,495 notes

💞 lawveyourself Follow

seriously i cant believe they gave this guy a law degree

💞 lawveyourself Follow

what do you mean evidence fraud

503,893 notes

🎧 instrumentalillness Follow

fuck you *unguilties your love*

384,568 notes

🎀 copiicat Follow

perjury isnt illegal btw in fact if youre one of tge witnesses youre legally required to lie on the stand. thats why everyone does it. trust me

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[selfcarecap]

Insatiable [L.H.]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x female!reader

Summary: Down in the void, where you can find all sorts of dangerous things, you didn’t expect a flower that makes you horny to be your biggest problem. Luckily, Logan is there to fuck that overwhelming feeling out of you.

Warnings: smut 18+, unprotected piv sex, oral (f receiving), spitting and hair pulling (reader pulls Logan’s hair) but just for a split second </3, dub con because of sex pollen but they want each other either way, Logan calls reader baby and good girl during sex, mention of masturbation (f), Wade watches them fuck technically without consent but it’s not mentioned until the end and it’s more of a joke, set during Deadpool & Wolverine but no major spoilers I just used a different gif because Logan is annoyed at Wade in every single one from that film lmao, Wade being Wade, Logan is taller than the reader, age gap implied (well actually it’s not implied but I’m telling you Logan’s older lmao), all porn no plot

Word Count: 3.4k

first Logan fic 🤭 pls be nice <333 

˚✮*✧*˚☆˚*✧

It shouldn’t shock you that the void is full of weird things — you came here with a mutant and a … well, whatever the fuck Wade is, after all. Yet, you’re still surprised when, on your way back from finding some bushes to pee in, you end up tripping over something and getting addicted to the smell of some glowing plant. 

The flower is bright pink and smells like your favourite perfume. You’re on all fours at this point, your face buried in the bud as you inhale its sweet, sweet scent. 

“What is she doing?” Logan asks from afar, an eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“Yoga?” Wade offers. Logan throws him a look — not helpful. 

Logan makes his way to you; the closer he gets the brighter the plant glows. This can’t be good. He calls your name when he gets to you but you’re in a trance, you don’t even seem to hear Logan. You’re humming — no, moaning?— to yourself, arching your back and lowering yourself to your forearms. 

He pulls you up by your arm and almost flinches at your sudden outburst. “Let me go!” You shout, hitting his chest, and when you look up at him your pupils are so large Logan isn’t sure it’s really still you in there. 

You go to slap Logan so you can get back down but his hand slides down your arm to hold your wrist, his other hand at your waist to keep you in place. 

“Look at me,” Logan orders and, oh you’re looking at him. 

The smell the plant was giving off wasn’t your favourite perfume at all, you realise, it was the smell of Logan. A hint of his aftershave, a little bit of sweat, and all that manly musk. You realise you need him right now. 

You involuntarily arch your back to get closer to him, your chest against the hard of his suit. He’s looking down at you, a mixture of worry and confusion. You reach up to claw at Logan’s collar but he easily holds you off. 

“You okay, bub? What was that?” He looks down to kick at the plant and as it breaks off at the stem the plant gives off a last shake of glittery dust, grows grey, and then dies. You slowly turn your head from the floor to Logan’s face — he’s wearily awaiting your next move. 

“I’m not okay, Logan. I need you right now,” you pull at his collar once more but he has you in a tight grip at the waist — which does nothing but turn you on more. 

“Wade! Come here,” Logan calls, and you see a flicker of red in your periphery coming towards you, but you don’t take your eyes off the man in front of you. 

When you stand still for a few seconds, that’s when the ache really hits you. You clench around nothing and you’re suddenly aware of how wet you are. You’ve never needed to come so badly in your life, but Logan’s got you held firmly in place, no matter how much you squirm. 

Wade sees the plant immediately, even greyed out and dead, “What’s this?” He walks towards it. 

Logan grabs Wade’s arm. “Don’t,” he grits.

With only one of his arms on you, you take the chance to reach up at Logan’s face, try to kiss him, but his hand is back on you before you can even get on your tiptoes. You let out a pained moan and both their heads snap towards you. 

“She was smelling that flower. Now she’s..” Logan looks down at you, which intensifies your need, but he’s careful of what to say. You only met a few days ago and he doesn’t want to humiliate you, doesn’t know how deep down the real you is by now. 

“Horny?” Wade asks, looking at you, “Holy shit, girl, look at your eyes. See, a woman after my own heart. That’s exactly how I look at Logan too—“

“Wade!” Logan shouts, jaw clenching, “We need to get her somewhere safe.”

“Don’t need anywhere safe. Need you,” you mumble, attempting to free yourself from Logan’s grip. He’s so effortlessly strong it makes your mouth water and the place between your thighs even wetter. 

Wade bends down, careful not to get too close to the plant, assessing it. “Easy. It’s sex pollen.”

“What the fuck is that?” Logan half-shouts.

“Have you never read fanfiction? It makes you crazy horny until you’re fucked by the person you’re into the most,” Wade explains, then sighs, looking at you, “Sad that it’s not me, sugarcakes, I’ll be honest.” 

You ignore him, still attempting to get out of Logan’s grasp to climb him like a tree.

Logan groans at Wade, “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“No, have you met me?”

Suddenly you’re lifted off the ground and Logan slings you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing at all. His arm grips you just below your ass, and it makes you clench your thighs together, trying to get any type of friction. You attempt to get down but his arm only tightens around your legs and even though your entire upper body is free, hanging off the back of him, you’re helpless. 

-

You squirm and wriggle and moan but all to no avail. Logan’s ignoring you. You feel your underwear getting wetter with his every step and breath and movement, and you’re sure he must be able to smell you at this point. 

Your arousal has turned into nothing other than a pulsing pain and you feel tears springing to your eyes with your sexual frustration. You mumble Logan’s name but you’re too weak to really say anything, too weak to even try and get out of his grasp anymore.

A shadow is cast over you and you see the sand under you turn into a solid floor. Suddenly you’re being lifted back up and Logan sits you on top of a table. You’re in a… diner? You don’t really care, filled with a new energy as you see Logan towering over you, concern written on his face – concern you’re ready to turn into lust.

You sit up with force, ready to pounce on him, but he pins you back to the tabletop immediately, his big arms holding your wrists down.

“Don’t wanna do that, sweetheart,” – the nickname makes you moan right in his face, hips trying to arch up but he’s too far – “We’re gonna need you to calm down, okay? And we’re gonna wait it out.”

“No,” you begin to shake your head quickly, giving Logan your best puppy eyes, “I can’t wait. Need to cum. I’m so wet, Logan. Please.”

“As much as I wish it wasn’t, that’s my cue to leave,” Wade waves, whispering, “I hope you think of me when you come” (you’re not sure if he’s saying it to you or to Logan) and walks out the door.

Logan is distracted for a second, watching Wade leave, and you yank your hand out of his grasp to unzip the front of your suit and push a hand into your underwear. You cry out when you finally get to touch your clit, puffy and wet all over, and for a second Logan can’t keep his eyes off your panties. His gaze lands on your tits almost spilling out of your bra from all the movement and then he takes hold of your wrist once again.

“I’m gonna leave and then you can touch yourself all you want, hm? That sound like a plan?” Logan says, voice quiet and hoarse and all you can do is shake your head at him.

“‘S not gonna be enough. Need you. Please,” you moan again, and you see him clench his jaw in restraint.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. Don’t know if you’d want this otherwise. Wouldn’t be right of me.”

You somehow manage to yank his hand down with yours and shove it into your panties.

“Does this feel like I don’t want you, Logan? You’re all I want. Been making myself come every day since I met you wishing it was you instead.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, baby, don’t know what you’re asking for,” Logan’s voice is strained. His thumb starts rubbing your clit instinctively, as if he can’t control himself. He moves slightly to get a better angle and you see the bulge pressing against his pants. He’s so big you moan out his name loud enough to echo through the building.

“Know exactly what I’m asking for. Please, Logan. It’s not gonna stop until you make me come. I’m begging you.” He looks at you with uncertainty. Then he’s pulling your arms out of your suit and ripping the rest down your legs.

“I’m gonna make you come, okay? I’ll eat your pussy as many times as you need me to. That alright?” He kneels in front of you and pulls you to the edge of the table. 

You want to ask him to fuck you but all you can manage to say right now is to let out a whiny “Mhmmm.”

Logan wastes no time taking one of your thighs over his shoulder and pulling your soaked panties to the side. He looks ready to surrender and give you what you really need but he stays firmly in his place.

“Look what a mess you’ve made, baby. Such a pretty fucking pussy. I’ll make you feel better, okay? ‘M gonna make you come.” 

Without another word his tongue is on you, licking broadly over your clit and then sucking as much as he can into his mouth. You arch your back and press your hips into his face. His hands come to the top of your thighs to hold you down, palms hot against your skin. 

“Feel good?” He mumbles against your pussy and you sit up on your elbows. 

“So fucking good, Logan. Don’t stop. Please,” you whimper as you look at his face buried in your pussy. He licks into you, nose pressed against your clit and you can’t help but buck your hips. 

“Look how sweet you are, saying please every time. Such a good girl.” He’s inhaling you hungrily now, sloppy in his movements from how turned on he is but it’s not stopping you from feeling good. 

You just need friction. And he’s giving you that, but then he’s licking all the way up from your pussy over your clit, through your pubic hair and up to your belly button — just to tease you. He smirks up at you and you push his head back down; he happily obliges, but not before reaching out one of his big strong hands to settle on your breast, thumb hooking under the top of your bra to play with your nipple. 

“Taste so fucking good, baby. Can’t get enough,” he breathes as he begins to suck on your clit and starts moaning himself. 

It occurs to you then that the pollen in your arousal or in your sweat might be making him lose his mind too. With the way he’s almost painfully squeezing your thigh with one hand and your boob with the other, you’re sure.

Logan groans with a mouthful of you between his lips, your sensitive clit swollen against his tongue. He moans something into you that you can’t understand, but the vibration of his voice pushes you close to the edge.

“Fuck, gonna come,” you whimper loudly, your hips chasing his face.

You finally tip over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you with an intensity you’ve never experienced before.

But it’s over as fast as it started.

You push your hand between your legs to relieve the ache again but you know it won’t be enough. Logan stands up and wipes his mouth, glistening with your arousal. “Y’need me again?”

You shake your head as you squirm without his presence between your thighs. “Please fuck me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore, need you inside me.” As you say it you clench around nothing, the pulsing between your legs insatiable. You start fucking yourself with your fingers, but it’s not nearly enough – you need something bigger, much bigger, and you have a feeling he can provide that.

The pollen seems to take over for Logan as well, and he finally stops arguing. He pulls off his suit and you silently curse him for not doing that earlier. Seeing those muscles is providing more relief than your fingers inside you. You feel like you could come just from the sight of his big, hard cock alone. It’s exactly what you need.

You slip out of your bra that’s almost sticking to your skin with how hot you feel and Logan roughly rips your panties down your legs.

“You really want this?” He asks as he steps between your thighs, jerking off and rubbing the tip against your clit.

“Mmhm yesyes, need you so badly. Please Lo–” you both gasp when he fills your pussy at once. It’s a feeling that brings you close to orgasm immediately and makes you grab him to pull him closer. Logan momentarily slips out of you again to crawl onto the table, pull you across it and wrap your legs around his hips.

“So fucking hard for you,” he mumbles as he pushes back into your slick pussy. You’re both mesmerised by the sight of him starting to fuck into you, your pussy stretching around him with what is the best feeling you’ve ever had. It burns because he’s so big, but it’s a good type of pain.

You grab the hair at the back of his head for support, and he moans at your grip. It angles his face towards yours and you look into each other’s eyes for a split second before his mouth finds yours. You’re biting and licking at his lips and he growls back against you, holding your lower lip down to spit into your mouth, his animalistic nature taking over.

His hips rut against yours faster as your kiss gets more desperate. You lean your head back in pleasure, hitting the table, but you barely register the pain. Distracted by how good his big cock feels so deep in your pussy you don’t even notice his hand coming up under your head to cushion it.

“There you go,” he whispers, looking down at you. Your eyes meet and for a second you smile at his care. You tip your head right back down into his hand when he starts kissing down your neck, his free hand pushing up one of your tits to wrap his lips around the nipple. 

The way he runs his tongue over your nipple has you moaning and grabbing onto his hair once more. You need to feel the heat of his body so you wrap your arm around the back of his shoulders until he’s desperately fucking into you with your chests pressed together.

It should be too warm with the way your bodies are intertwined but Logan looks down to lick the sweat on your neck right up and sucks on the skin there right after. The added stimulation makes your hips buck up and Logan sneaks a hand back to your clit, messily rubbing until he has you coming again and you’re both moaning at how hard your pussy clenches around him.

You think for a second that Logan’s going to come with you but he manages to resist the temptation, biting into your shoulder instead. But that second in which it almost felt like he was coming was the calmest you’ve felt in hours at this point. You realise that maybe it’s him who needs to come for you to feel better. But you’re too horny to say any proper words to explain it to him.

Logan pushes himself up to look at your face but he doesn’t have to ask if you still need more. Your pupils are as wide as before.

“Pussy’s still so hungry for me, baby, hm? So fucking desperate,” he repositions your hips and starts fucking into you at a different angle, your wet pussy so loud against him. This time you feel his dick pushing against your g-spot and he has you gasping at the new sensation, pulling you by the hips to aid his thrusts.

“P-Please come inside me, Log– uh-Logan,” you manage to say.

Logan looks down at you and places a hand under your ass, squeezing you there, “Baby, I got stamina for the entire night. Not stopping til you’re satisfied.”

“Just do it, need you”, is all you can get out as he continues to rut his hips against yours.  

“Alright. I got you, baby, I got you,” he rasps, making sure to hit your g-spot over and over until you’re arching your back, biting into his bicep that’s propped next to your face, to deal with the amount of pleasure coursing through you.

A gasp turns into an orgasm and as soon as you clench around Logan he lets go too. “God, baby, so fucking tight for me. Such a good girl. Gonna come–”

You hold onto Logan tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck as he fucks into you, filling you with ropes and ropes of his cum as you keep clenching around his big cock. You can feel him so deeply in you that your most primal urges are finally starting to calm down and you feel the last waves of pleasure flow through you as he comes his final drops.

Logan drops onto his elbows that are positioned next to your head, and, instinctively, you take his face to kiss him. He kisses you back so intensely that you don’t even have to consider whether he still wanted to kiss you now that the sex is over.

“You okay?” He asks when you let go of his lips.

“Yeah,” you nod, noticing that the ache is finally, finally gone now that you’ve both come together, “thank you, Logan.”

“My pleasure,” he smirks and places a more innocent kiss on your mouth. You untangle yourselves from each other in slow movements, unsure what places you’re sweating from and need to clean up.

-

“Do you regret it?” Logan asks you a few minutes later, cleaned up and clothed, with his arm around your waist to support you – you can barely stand – as you go outside to look for Wade.

“No. But thanks for making sure so many times… Do you regret it?”

Logan’s smile tells you everything you need to know but he still tells you, “Not one bit.”

You smile but then become more serious. “Sorry that you had to experience that,” you mumble.

“What do you mean? You’re apologising for that?”

“Didn’t you feel the pain too? I thought the effect of the pollen might have somehow been contagious.”

He almost looks bashful when he looks down at you, “No, you just turn me on like fucking crazy.”

You smile down at the floor until you see a shadow. Wade comes around the corner of the diner. 

You draw your eyebrows together. “You’re telling me you actually left?”

“There’s no way you didn’t stay to watch us,” Logan adds.

“No, of course I stayed but I came ages ago. I was forced to be with my own thoughts while you kept going… and going.”

Logan rolls his eyes as Wade walks on, “What do you think, we–”

“And going…”

“Wade.” Logan warns, turning to you again, “How about we get this shit done with Wade and then go to your place and do this all over again?”

You giggle, “I like the sound of that.”

☆.｡.:*support a writer and reblog and comment if you enjoyed, I appreciate it a lot <333.｡.:*☆

[dark-fics-4-you]

Angel

dark!stepbro!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader

Warnings: noncon (rape), somno, incest (step siblings), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, unwanted creampie, drugs, drinking, possessive behavior, controlling behavior, mentions of previous male masturbation

A/N: in my mind, Rafe is like 2-3 years older than Reader (everyone is 18+ and college aged)

Rafe’s knuckles were turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. The speedometer was flirting with triple digits but his eyes still flicked back and forth between you and the road.

He should have known better, he did know better, and still he let you walk out of the house wearing that sad excuse of an angel “costume.” In reality it was just tiny white ruffle shorts paired with a white corset along with angel wings and a halo top headband.

Any other night if you had tried to walk out the door in lingerie in front of your step brother, he would have told you to change, but because it was halloween, and seeing you dressed up like that made him so hard he couldn’t think straight, of course he had said ‘yes’ knowing he’d be walking into the party with the hottest girl on the island on his arm.

What he hadn’t anticipated however, was the number of guys (especially his friends) who had the balls to flirt with his little step sister right in front of him.

Even Topper and Kelce had been eyeing you differently and it pissed Rafe off to no end.

You followed him to the kitchen where he grabbed drinks for both of you and he tried to ignore the eyes that were raking up and down your exposed body.

“Are any of your friends here yet?” He asked as he passed your drink to you.

“I don’t think so,” you answered, fishing your phone out of your purse to check your texts.

He hadn’t planned on letting you out of his sight, much less 5 feet from his side, but when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder, he spun around to see a blond girl in a Tinkerbell costume.

“Are you one of Topper’s friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Hi, I’m Tiffany,” she flashed a smile as she drank him in with her eyes.

“Rafe.” He responded dryly, taking a swig from his solo cup.

“What’s your costume supposed to be?” Her voice annoyed Rafe and he looked down at his blue jumpsuit for a second to remind himself before answering.

“Cornelius Snow, I think? Um, from the Hunger Games? I don’t know, it was Y/N’s idea.” He mumbled, looking past the girl to check on you, but when he realized you were no longer standing beside him, or even in the same room, he quickly brushed past her without a word.

Luckily you didn’t travel too far, but Rafe’s relief upon finding you was short lived.

Two kook guys were standing next to you, practically eating you with their eyes, and sweet, oblivious you were none the wiser.

“I love your costume,” one said.

“You look fantastic tonight.”

“Aw thanks!” You beamed.

“Looks like your cup is getting empty, you want me to grab you a refill?”

“If you don’t mind-” you had begun handing your solo cup to the guy but you stopped yourself when Rafe appeared to your right, snatching the cup out of your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist possessively.

“It’s okay, I can take care of her,” he snapped at the two guys, shooting a deadly glare at them as he led you away.

“Rafe, what was that about?” You complained, completely confused by his behavior.

“Are you stupid or something, Y/N? Because I just watched you try to hand your drink over to two complete strangers at a fucking frat party.”

“They were just being nice-”

“They could have been trying to drug you for all you know,” Rafe chided you sternly and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was talking to you like you were a little kid. “Rose put me in charge of taking care of you tonight, and you’re not exactly making it easy on me by disappearing without a word and accepting drinks from frat brothers.”

The two of you arrived at the kitchen and you silently handed your cup to him to refill your drink.

“Just… be careful, Y/N/N, okay?” You had turned away from him and he couldn’t help but eye the way your corset showed off your perfect tits, and he dryly swallowed, hoping that his hard on wasn’t too obvious.

You turned to look at him, sighing like you were annoyed, but you nodded your head as you grabbed the drink from him, “I know, Rafey, I know.”

“Where are your friends at?”

“They should be here by now, but I haven’t seen them just yet.” You looked around the room you were in, still not finding them. “I need to pee, where’s the bathroom?”

He took your drink, pointing towards the hallway where the restrooms were.

“Come right back here, okay?”

“Mm ‘kay,” you responded, heading to the bathroom.

Rafe didn’t want to be so worried about you, he didn’t want to be so over-protective, but he couldn’t help how possessive he felt over you, and the thought of any other man talking to you, much less touching you, was enough to have Rafe itching to grab a gun.

He hadn’t realized how long it had been until he checked the time and realized you had been gone for almost 10 minutes, which seemed unusual.

Rafe went to the bathroom, knocking on the door only to find that it was empty.

He cursed under his breath, angry that you had snuck away from him again, and he closed the door behind him as he anxiously pulled out his small bag of coke, using his key to bring a bump to his nostril.

Shit like this was the reason he did coke so much.

Rafe left, slamming the door before turning to look throughout the large house party.

You weren’t in the first crowded room that he checked, or the second, or the third; and by the time Rafe finally found you with Topper, watching him set up a line for you before handing you a rolled up dollar bill he was seeing red.

He watched as you leaned over the table and sniffed the white powder into your nose, his knuckles curling into fists when Topper draped one arm over your shoulders.

When you looked up and locked eyes with him, your face dropped in an instant.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?”

“Rafe-” Topper jumped in his seat, removing his arm as his face turning red when he realized how pissed off Rafe really was.

“Shut the fuck up, Top.” He snapped, never taking his burning gaze off of you. “What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?”

“I- Top was just showing me how to…”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, you’re done. Party’s over.” Your step brother stalked closer, wrapping his hand around your arm and harshly yanking you up off the couch.

“Rafe, you can’t be serious, you do it all the time!” You protested, trying to pull against his tight grip as he forced you through the house and toward the front door.

“I said, no. We’re going home. Now.” His voice was practically shaking with rage at this point, the effects of the bump he took in the bathroom settling in.

“You’re being so unfair! My friends aren’t even here yet!” Your voice slurred and Rafe realized how drunk you were.

“Did you have another drink?”

“Topper made me one,” you answered, and now Rafe really wanted to kill him.

What the fuck was he thinking getting his little sister drunk and giving you coke? Apparently Sarah wasn’t enough for him, he wanted another Cameron sister as well.

He could have Sarah for all Rafe cared, but you were his.

“Are you even sober enough to drive?”

“Yes,” he snipped, pulling open the passenger door of his truck and roughly pushing you in before loudly slamming it shut.

The drive back to your house was filled with a tense silence, and you were too drunk to realize just how fast Rafe was driving.

Rafe just stewed in his anger and frustration, equally pissed off at you and all of the jackasses who had been hitting on you.

Especially fucking Topper.

He should have known better.

Rafe pulled into the driveway, mentally preparing himself for the explanation he was going to have to give Rose if she was still awake, but when he glanced over at your seat, you were fast asleep. He sighed, partly in relief that he wouldn’t have to explain himself, but also frustrated that he couldn’t chew you out more.

He got out of the truck, coming around to your side to scoop you into his arms and carry you inside. Rafe cradled you in his arms, careful not to wake you as he brought you up the stairs and to your room, closing the door before softly laying you onto your bed.

Rafe leaned over, his fingers found the straps of your shoes, undoing them before pulling your heels off your feet and laying them onto the floor, where he took off his own boots as well.

When he turned his attention back to you, you looked so peaceful and beautiful it made his cock throb and Rafe suppressed a groan as he brushed a stray hair out of your eyes.

His gaze landed on your soft lips, and before he could stop himself, before he even knew what he was doing, really, Rafe leaned down, pressing his lips to yours for the very first time.

Rafe’s hand came to your face, softly stroking your cheek as his lips moved against yours. You tasted like alcoholic punch and cherry lip gloss, and Rafe could feel his hard on straining against the material of his jumpsuit.

He pulled away, head spinning as he mindlessly unzipped the top of his jumpsuit, pushing the fabric off his shoulders before reaching for the zipper on his pants.

All he could think about were all of the frat guys at the party eyeing you like you were a piece of meat they couldn’t wait to sink their teeth into. Like you were some prize to be won.

At the same time, the thought of someone else being your first ignited a blind rage inside of Rafe, one that festered in his brain and mutated into an ugly, twisted desire.

He wasn’t going to let his sweet angel of a step sister get taken advantage of or corrupted by any of the awful guys on the island, kooks or pogues.

If anyone was going to be your first, it was going to be him.

Rafe looked down, surprised when he realized he had been leaning over your sleeping form, pumping his hard cock with his hand.

He stopped himself for a moment, afraid that you might wake up, but you barely stirred, too deep in sleep to register your older step brother leering over you.

The blond took a shaky breath as he reached out towards your hips, his fingers brushing along the soft material of your shorts before finding the waistband and slowly pulling them down your legs.

“Fuck,” he softly groaned as he took in your matching white, lacy panties beneath.

Admittedly, Rafe was no stranger to going through your underwear drawer and stealing a pair of your underwear to jack off into as he fantasized about hate fucking you every time you did something to piss him off.

These were unfamiliar to him. You must have bought them just for halloween, he thought, a new wave of possessive jealousy coursing through him.

Were you seriously thinking about fucking someone tonight? Maybe your friends were never even coming to the party, and it was all a ploy for you to slip away from Rafe and hook up with some asshole.

Rafe’s large hands came to your hips, grabbing your panties and yanking them down your legs. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest he was afraid you might hear it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He had to know how good you felt, he had to make sure he was your first.

He guided himself to your core, cursing under his breath as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your messy slit. You already felt so wet, he barely had to touch you, and he wondered if there was some part of you that subconsciously knew what was going on, that wanted this to happen.

His hands found the back of your thighs, spreading your legs further apart so he could get closer to you.

When he rubbed his cock against your clit, you squirmed a bit and a soft hum that sounded suspiciously like a moan fell past your lips.

He felt his cock twitch, aching to fill you up, and Rafe finally lined himself up with your slick lips before planting his arms beside your waist and pushing his leaking tip inside of you.

You felt so warm and tight, and the feel of your silky walls squeezing around the head of his cock was better than anything he could have possibly imagined. He slowly began moving, not going any deeper, but just creating a friction that made his jaw clench as he held back groans.

“Shit, Y/N,” he whispered, leaning over to press his feverish lips to yours again, the feeling of your cunt pulling him in making him feel dizzy.

He hadn’t intended to go any further, that’s what he told himself. He thought if he just got a taste, he could be satisfied and he could wait until later to have all of you.

But when his eyes flicked down to where your bodies connected, he was surprised to find half of his length disappearing into you.

You whimpered in your sleep as your walls pulsed around him, distracting him from his moral quandaries. Rafe reached a hand to your chest, cupping one of your tits over your corset as his pace slowly increased.

“God you’re fucking perfect,” Rafe murmured, his lips finding yours again. All the while, he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside you until his tip kissed your cervix.

Far too gone to turn back now, and spurred on by your soft whimpers and gasps, Rafe’s hips were snapping against yours faster now, channeling his frustrations into punishing you for the way you acted tonight.

You wanted to lose your virginity so badly? Fine, Rafe thought, he would take it from you to insure he would be your first and only.

He knew it was wrong, god, it was sick how deeply he needed to ruin you for daring to disobey him. Rafe was well aware that he crossing every boundary in the world, that you would hate that he had robbed you of this experience if you ever found out; but maybe that’s why he was so painfully hard as he rutted into you over and over.

And imagining sitting across from you at the dinner table, knowing that his sweet, innocent sister would have no idea that her older step brother was her first was almost enough to make him cum.

But the thing that really sent him over the edge, what had him spilling himself deep inside you and filling your walls with his hot, sticky cum, was your soft, angelic voice moaning his name in your sleep.