#and if so I'd be more than open to hearing it

[ruyakasunshine]

F1 drivers rated on how likely they are to know what ao3 is

note : this is just for entertainment. I will also use this to make a general reminder not to get anything fanfic/rpf related outside of sites such as tumblr, ao3, or wattpad. Enjoy!

This is just the current grid, because if I had to do it with every driver that raced this season, I'd get a surprisingly high amount of drivers to talk about.

20. Fernando

Grandpa. Need I to say more?

19. Checo

In a recent GQ Sport interview, he revealed that he didn't even have social media on his phone. I'd be surprised to hear he has any ao3 tab open up there.

18. K-mag

I don't feel like I need to explain this one. But I also believe that if Haas got him to read a chapter of a wattpad fanfic out loud where he has to replace Y/N with his own name after every penalty point he gets, he would have stopped causing so much ruckus. Or he might even cause more, who knows what goes on inside his mind.

17. Nico Hulk

Hear me out, he doesn't know what a fanfic is, but if he were more popular with the writer, he'd read the shit out of those.

16. Valterri

I could pay actual money to hear him read a 'kidnapped by one direction' self insert story out loud. If there is any Sauber intern lurking here, please consider. Wattpad as a sponsor would bring you a lot of money, think about it. I promise you will see a rise in your fandom if the name of the team was "wattpad kick sauber". I would buy merch. You need the money the way the constructors are going. Think about it.

15. Lance

I don't know too much about him, but I will assume he doesn't spend too much time on social media, or googling himself with all the hate he gets. But maybe if he were to read a strollonso fanfic, we might get to see him have actual expressions on his face. Granted, that would be a look of horror, but I will take what I can.

14. Carlos

I think he might combust if he read any ABO fanfic. I might want to see that.

13. Max

He is too busy sim racing to care. Good for him, I wish I could say the same about myself but alas I am too busy reading the same fanfic for the 23th time.

12. Yuki

I believe if you pronounced the term "Y/N" next to him he might assume that's a car brand. Or, like, hello in a foreign language. Again, good for him.

11. Zhou

Hear me out, fanfics seem to be quite popular in China, and he has a sister, there is no way he hasn't heard of the existences of it. I don't think he has read any though, which is for the better.

10. Franco

Our dear Franquito hasn't been on the grid for long enough to discover the amazing word that fanfics have to offer, but let me tell you that if he hasn't found out stuff yet, he'll find some soon enough. Let the writers have time to write a little bit more about him, and soon we'll get an instagram live of him reacting to those.

9. Liam

I think he is young enough to have googled himself (he had to find something to do since he's been a reserve driver since like the year 2010), but he also hasn't been a permanent member, so he might not have enough material to accidentally stumble upon.

8. Esteban

He googles himself. He knows there are fanfics. And he fucking likes that. If there is a rise of pierresteban fics on ao3 after Brazil 2024, he will be the first one to know let me tell you that much.

7. Lewis

Okay you might be wondering why this senior citizen is up here, and the answer is simple : he is too famous not to know. Like COME ON. He's been here since 2007 (which is longer than some people who'll see this post have been alive for— that's a scary thought for another day), he has been in famous and televised rivalry, and he has to live with the existence of the quote "everything but a lover" about nico and him.

There is no way he hasn't READ a fucking brocedes fanfic. If he is willing, I will teach him how to use ao3 so he can look-up some "fix-it" fics. He might use some inspiration, and who is better for that than tired college students writing about their sad ass in between lectures?

6. George

He seems like the type to lurk a lot around the internet, so the chances of him finding the link to a fic on the third page of google isn't impossible to me.

If you find any comment of someone correcting your spelling, you know who did it.

5. Pierre

He probably googles his name too often not to have stumbled upon a "Reader x Pierre Gasly" wattpad fanfic. sigh.

4. Alex

Alex, I know that you are the second most likely to have tumblr (right after george who actually has an account). The chances of you knowing what a "lemon" is is way too high for my liking.

3. Charles

The C in Charles stands for Chronically Online. My boy was known for liking tweets about himself, and we know that fans talk about fanfics on twitter. He clicked on a link of a lestappen or sebchal fanfic at least once out of curiosity let me tell you this much.

2. Lando

Too chronically online not to have read fanfics about himself. I just know he typed in "lando norris fanfiction" straight in google at least once. Jail.

1. Oscar

Here me out : his sister is a K-pop fan. If you believe that she never yapped about a fanfic she read to her brother, you are strongly unfamiliar with sibling relationships. But the chances of him not listening to her are also very high, so maybe he shouldn't be so high up my list. But oh well.

He is also good at hiding his game, but he is as online as Charles (you thought you were sneaky but we caught you clicking on that link of Max playing air-hocket dear Osc.)

For my own mental health though, I will assume he hasn't read about his own self yet.

[endearng]

Special guest

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: Olivia's birthday is coming up. She has a special guest in mind. WC: 1.7k Warnings: mentions of absent fathers (sorry); reader is borderline paranoid about letting her kid down; they are pining hard - Spencer looks at reader not so respectfully. Please, let me know if I missed anything. A/N: I try my best to not describe the reader so that everyone feels included, but I feel like I should work better on that. If you have any advice on it, I'd be very thankful to hear it! Second fic in less than 24h, ohmy. This is a second part to 'Stranger danger' Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 Masterlist

A few weeks had passed after the incident with the power in your building. Since then, you saw Spencer sometimes and he always greeted you politely. Olivia once told you that she liked him so much because he was a nice ghost — he told her stories about the books he read and she absolutely loved them, going to the point of asking if she could borrow them once he had finished reading.

Little did she know, she would never have to wait long.

Their interactions always made you speechless. How was your 5-year-old daughter better than you at starting conversations? You could barely look him in the eye, despite the fact that he always made sure to flash you the brightest smiles. You reciprocated, but then Olivia always had something to say: about his funny clothes, about the book she was reading for school, about your moments together — you had a scheduled commitment every Friday, to take Olivia to wherever she wanted to go. She was very observant, and, just like you, had the habit of taking mental notes of the beautiful places you saw during your walks. That's how she knew where the public library was and knew the best coffee in town — she demanded having the same beverage as you, but you told the barista secretly to make it decaf.

As you both put on your shoes in the morning to leave the apartment, you said, "Oli, your birthday is coming up. Do you want to do anything with mommy?"

"I want a birthday party."

That made you freeze in your tracks for a moment. You've been avoiding throwing birthday parties for two years now, because Olivia's day always ended with a tinge of heartbreak by the absence of her father, who had decided to leave the both of you and move overseas to, maybe, start over. It hurt you to try to comfort her with something you didn't have control of, but you did it anyway because you'd rather hurt yourself than let your baby go through that kind of disappointment alone. You didn't really know what he was up to, and honestly, you didn't want to, either. You were doing just fine without him, but she was his daughter and still a child, so you knew she still missed him.

Your hands were shaking slightly as you tied her shoelaces. "Bunny ears, remember?" You asked softly, showing her how to do it: you always did it in the mornings, but you made sure to teach her in case they undid during her day at school. She nodded at you, flashing a little toothless smile. "Okay, baby, we'll do that," you smiled, trying to ease off the tension.

"I want invitation cards. Like the ones you had!" She said, excitedly. You huffed out a laugh, endeared by the fact that she remembered all the papers you showed her with photos and other memories of your childhood.

"No problem, baby," you said, getting up, smoothing your pencil skirt and opening the door. She went to the hall to press the elevator button, "we can do it." You said, more to yourself than to her.

Two weeks passed and you had everything ready for Olivia's birthday with the help of your closests friends, Victoria and Jude. You were planning on throwing her party at your parents' house, which had a big, beautiful yard with space enough for the kids to play all they wanted. You had ordered Olivia's favorite cake, red velvet, and a lot of other treats that you knew she loved.

"You know she'll be drunk on sugar, right?" Victoria asked, laughing. She remembered the last time she took Olivia to the movies and she was electric during the way back.

"It's her birthday, once a year won't kill her. Maybe it'll kill me, but eh, what's the matter?" You joked lightly and your friends laughed.

Jude had a checklist in her hands. "Okay, let's go over this so we can go back to our yearly drinking like there's no tomorrow date. We have the place, the food, the decoration... oh, no. Where are the invitations?"

"Oh, I got it. They're in my room. I had to put it away because Oli wanted to read them over and over again."

They nodded as you left your living room, walking down the hall so you could get said invitations. You felt dread creeping up on you when you couldn't find them in the top drawer of your bedside table. "I can't find them!" You yelled loud enough for the women to hear you.

"Are you sure you placed them here?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Not sure what happened, though." You murmured, already feeling a little disappointed. "I gotta look for it now. She drew it herself and I took a lot of copies. I can't possibly tell her I lost them, she would be heartbroken." You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Victoria approached you to rub your arm, trying to comfort you. "Hey, we can look for it. We still have time." Jude said, smiling reassuringly.

"I know, I just don't wanna be too late." You said, giving them a tight-lipped smile.

So, you started looking for it in every corner of your apartment. You stayed in your bedroom, while Jude and Victoria went to Olivia's. You had cleaned the apartment today, a Saturday, when your daughter usually went to your parents', so that you'd have free time to spend and catch up with your friends. It was almost sundown, daylight fading softly and the lighting in your room was becoming darker as time went by. Suddenly, you heard your bell. Weird. You weren't expecting anybody.

"I'll get that!" You let your friends know.

Opening the door, you weren't expecting your neighbor. Rephrasing: the neighbor who Olivia adored so much. Spencer. That works, too. He has a name, after all. "Hey, hi!" He greeted you with a grin, looking shy.

"Hey, you!" You greeted him back. "Is everything okay?" You asked, a little unsure.

You took in his appearance. He looked tired, that's for sure, but it didn't stop him from looking like the most gorgeous man in existence. He wore his usual attire, carrying his caramel satchel leather bag. You didn't have an immediate answer, so you gulped when you noticed that you were looking a little longer than what's socially acceptable.

"Yeah, it's fine," he chuckled, unable to hold your stare for a moment longer. He considered, for a moment, that your daughter was the element needed for him to have a little confidence to speak when you were around. Well, shit. "I — um. I think these belong to you. I found it when I opened the door to my apartment." He extended you a bunch of papers. You blushed. You busied yourself so much with admiring him that you failed to notice that he had something in his hands.

He studied you for a moment. You looked beautiful that day. Not that you didn't look beautiful all the times you've seen him, but oh, well. Like the first time you met, you were wearing a dress. It was blue and it stopped mid-thigh. He had to stop himself from gulping at the sight of your bare, plush legs. It was different from what he was used to seeing you wear during working days, during the eventual elevator meetings. The dress hugged your curves beautifully, there was no question, like it had been made just for you. Your hair was loose and it fell over your shoulders. When you first answered the door, you had a worried frown on your face, but it quickly disappeared with his words. He felt relieved to see you get rid of your distress.

"Oh, goodness! Sorry about that. I was just looking for these." You gladly took them from his hand and your fingers accidentally brushed his. His hands were warm. "Olivia must have slided them under your door gap," you laughed nervously. You could feel two pairs of eyes looking at the interaction before them. You needed to brace yourself for their questions and very much possible teasing.

"Yeah, yeah. I supposed she did that, too." He laughed, quietly.

You thought for a moment. "You know, you should go. She really likes you. Talks about your conversations all the time and says she misses you when we don't run into you at some point." You revealed. It made Spencer's heart soar in his chest.

"Really?" He couldn't help but smile, even if he couldn't believe it. Not that you were a liar, but that it meant so much to your daughter to talk to him now and then. He felt alive at that moment, felt wanted. “I don’t want to impose.”

"Yeah, I mean, no! No problem, you wouldn’t be. We’d like to have you." You said, smiling adorning your face. You took a card from your hands, offering it to him. "With us, I mean. It's going to be at my parents' house, we'll have a bunch of kids running around and cake." You surely looked like an idiot.

We’d like to have you, was all that he could hear.

Did you want him there for him or just because he was kind to your daughter?

Either way, "Thanks. I'll do my best to be there." He said, utterly happy. Saying your name lowly, followed by a 'goodbye', made your heart jump in your chest. You replied with a wave and a small grin. Your cheeks were sore from all the smiling. It was inevitable.

You turned around and had barely closed the door when Jude said, a little louder than her usual tone, "So, I see you found the invitation cards. I hope you gave one for Olivia's birthday party, not for a hot date." She playfully scolded you.

With wide eyes, you banged the door closed and turned around to yell, "Jude! What???"

Little did you know, Spencer heard it all. You know, thin walls, small distance and all. He grinned to himself, face flushed a deep red.

He was definitely looking forward to seeing you. And Olivia, too, of course. It was her birthday, after all.

[krirebr]

random hoeing:

Steve catching you in the rain, his white shirt completely soaked and transparent

Ok, this has to be Neighbor Steve.

Warnings: explicit language, more fluff than I normally do, completely unedited, 18+ - MINORS DNI

After Steve caught you ogling him during the heatwave, the tone of your conversations when you run into him in your building has gotten decidedly flirtier. But for whatever reason, that's where it's stopped. As much as you've tried to send signals that you are very open to more, he's never taken you up on it. Which is fine. It's fine. Totally fine. You are very cool with it. The thought of it definitely doesn't make you shrivel up inside. You are so cool.

All of that is the furthest thing from your mind right now, though, as you and your dog run through the rain. It'd been such a nice day, but as you hit the halfway point of your usual longer route, the sky unexpectedly opened up and you and your poor dog were hit by an absolute downpour. Now, finally home, you're both completely soaked and desperate to get inside and dry.

After some fumbling, you get the door to your building unlocked and opened. Just as you're about to get inside and let the door close behind you, you hear your name ring out. You turn around to see Steve hurrying up the path. "Hold the door!" he yells.

You freeze, doing as he asked. Holy shit. He's just as soaked as you, but while you're sure you look like a drowned rat, he very much does not. He– Well. He– He's wearing that damned white t-shirt again. Except it's not white now, it's translucent. You can see everything – that tattoo you spotted before, and a few more to go with it, an incredible set of abs, nipples. Holy shit.

He quickly ushers you inside, thank god, because you can't move on your own, your eyes still stuck to his chest. "Fuck, that came out of nowhere, huh?" he chuckles.

The moment you're out of the rain, your dog proceeds to do her best to shake herself dry, as if the three of you weren't already dripping all over the entryway. "Oh, shit," you mumble, reaching for her without really knowing what to do.

Steve just laughs. And then does it himself, shaking out his golden locks. Part of his hair flops down over his forehead, and you do your best to hold in your gasp. Really it's just so unfair that he could get caught in a rainstorm and come out looking like that. What the actual fuck? you think to yourself.

Except, judging by the way his head whips around to look at you, maybe you didn't think it. Maybe it was more out loud than you'd meant. Oh god. You immediately start babbling, which is unfortunately just as uncontrollable as the initial slip-up you're trying to make up for. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I just– I mean– Look at you!" You throw a wild gesture at him as he just stares at you with his mouth open, trying to take in your ramble. "It's cats and dogs out there and you look like that?? While I–" another wild gesture, at yourself this time. "I just– How is it fair that you're so beautiful??"

"You think I'm beautiful?" he finally manages to interject.

"Huh?" And that's when your brain finally catches up. Oh dear god. What is wrong with you?? You cautiously glance at him to find him staring at you, not upset, but like he's trying to figure you out. Fuck it, you suddenly think. You've already embarrassed yourself. You have nothing left to lose. "You wanna get dinner with me sometime?"

You swear that the smile that blooms on Steve's face is bright and warm enough to dry you both off. "I was starting to worry I was reading your signals wrong. Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."

Your answering smile is strong enough to push all the clouds away.

☔

Thanks for the fun prompt, Eva!

Tag List

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23

[beef-brisket]

It's been a few days since then, and Adam went over to see his sister. Lucifer doesn't know kw the outcome of that visit, Adam has gone quiet. Which seems to be a theme with him, when he's dealing with something stressful.

Lucifer was busy making breakfast for Charlie. She's starting preschool in a couple of days, so she's soaking up as much of her bed as possible.

Adam left in the early morning. He was quiet and careful when he slipped out of bed and out of the room.

Lucifer has been worried about him, but he's decided to have a private talk with him tonight. If the issue hasn't resolved itself.

He jumps when he hears the door open and close, the heavy sound of gear being placed on the floor. And a sigh. Definitely Adam.

Lucifer walks out of the kitchen and eyes his man, he looks less stressed at least. Like a weight has been taken off him.

Lucifer: Hey. There you are.

Adam looked up and smiled. As he made his was over, he eyed Charlie's door. Still asleep.

Lucifer smiled as he was picked up and placed on the countertop, Adam kissing his neck, hands going under his shirt.

Lucifer: Mm~. Someone's in a good mood~.

Adam: Mhmm~.

Lucifer almost let's Adam carry him away, but the sizzling of bacon brings him back to reality.

Lucifer: I have to cool Charlie's breakfast, Moose.

Adam stepped back as Lucifer jumped off the counter and continued cooking.

Adam: ...moose?

Lucifer: Just a little nickname I thought I'd try, big boy~.

Adam blushed, fucker.

Lucifer relaxed as Adam stood behind him, hands on his hips, his lips back on Lucifer's neck. He's really testing Lucifer's control.

Adam: Emmy wants to take Charlie to that circus in town- then to dinner- and spend the night.

Lucifer: Hm, sounds nice. Are you sure you're not just trying to get rid of my daughter, so I can fuck you all around the house? For hoours~?

Adam: W-What? N-no... just thought- she's starting school soon- maybe she'd like some fun... and it'll be double good if I get some fun, to~.

Lucifer laughed.

Asam: ...I quit.

Lucifer stops and turns to Adam: R-Really?

Adam: It wasn't easy... but I did it. I'm officially off the books. We have 3 months to find somewhere to live... I hope that's okay-

Lucifer jumps into his arms, covering his face in kisses: More than okay~.

They dropped Charlie off at Emily. She was already bouncing around with excitement.

Charlie: I've never been to a circus before!

She only waved goodbye when she ran into Emily's house, making Adam laugh. Lucifer looked a tad sour, but he understood.

The walk home was slow, he couldn't stop looking at all the nice secluded spaces he could fuck Adam in. Unfortunately, he had to wait until they were home.

As soon as the door was shut, Adam was on his knees and unbuckling Lucifer's pants.

Lucifer: I forgot how good you look on your knees~.

New au!

Adam's a soldier in the royal guard. He was sent to an orphanage by his mother and was taken in by the kingdom, with the sole purpose of being a soldier.

He's been in two long-term relationships, Eve for 6 years and Lilith for 8. He was with Eve since he was 14, then a few months after their break up, he met Lilith, and they were together for 8 years.

Both Eve and Lilith cheated on Adam.

Because of the stress of being in the guard, the abuse he suffered growing up, and being betrayed by the only two people he ever cared about, he reached a breaking point. Lilith cheating and moving away to be with her new partner (Lucifer), made Adam break down.

He used to hate killing and was moved from being a soldier to a guard. But after Lilith, he returned to being a soldier and started killing people for fun. Taking his anger out on the innocents.

After five years, Lucifer is begging Lilith to stay with him and Charlie, but she's not interested. She never wanted to be a mother or for her to stay with Lucifer long term. So she leaves. Lucifer is heartbroken, but he tries to be there for his daughter.

A day later, their town is raided, Lucifer tries to escape with Charlie, but there was so much blood, and every house and business were on fire. So, he just ends up going around in circles.

Until he sees a gaint, bloody solder walking out of the fire towards him. The flames make his eyes glow gold.

Lucifer holds Charlie tight as he shakes with fear. This man looks like a monster. He is a monster. The man's glaive dripping with blood as he slowly makes his way towards them.

The man speaks.

Adam: Where. Is. Lilith?!

Luicfer: W-what?

Adam: Lilith!? Where is she!!

Lucifer flinched and held Charlie close, the poor girl was close to tears.

Lucifer: She's not here! Lilith left months ago.

Adam cursed and kicked a nearby rock, that fucking bitch! Got out when the getting was good and before Adam could exact his revenge. If anyone deserved his blade in their neck it was her.

Adam: Where can I find her?

Lucifer: I don't know! Honest! Please just..... Let us go!

Adam: No.

Adam was going to kill them that day. He truly believes he was going to. But something inside of him stopped him.

Instead, he took Lucifer and Charlie as his prisoners of war.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemicrofic November challenge.

There's Just One Who Could Make Me Stay

November Prompt: Guard | Word Count: 532 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Future Fic, Eddie Munson Lives, Returning Home, Reconnecting, Pre-Steddie

Steve stands along the baseline. The kids on the court look way younger than he remembers being at their age. Of course, he was fighting monsters, and that ages a man.

He's part of the old guard. 

Problem is, he still feels young. Forty-eight isn't old, but thirty years is a long time to be out of high school.

Tommy greeted him with excitement earlier. The jagged edges of their friendship smoothed over after years. King Steve resurrected, for one night only. Steve played along. He was happy to see him, but Steve definitely hasn't forgotten.

Lucas, Steve actually was happy to see. That championship will always be tainted, the last one Hawkins ever won. But Lucas deserved to be the master of ceremonies, the cutter of ribbons.

The new gym is dedicated, and it's weird to stand where the demolished old one stood, now long gone. Like so many things in Hawkins. It's not the town he grew up in, that's for damn sure. 

None of them stayed, they fled, one-by-one.

Outside, Steve sees his rental car tire is flat. The spare? Mostly flat. 

Goddamnit.

He digs in his wallet and finds his AAA card, and expects to be told that it'll be an hour or two. But there's surprisingly a local shop that covers AAA calls now, and they've dispatched them out.

Awesome. Steve hops up on the trunk of the car and watches the last of the crowd disperse. 

He hears the tow truck before he sees it. 

Sees the dark head of long hair fly upwards when the guy jumps out, both boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud. 

"Flat tire?" the guy hollers as he's pulling open the toolbox along the bed.

Steve stills.

"Eddie?"

And the head whips towards him, familiar, even if it's been nearly thirty years.

"Steve Harrington can't change a tire?" voice teasing, but delighted.

Steve laughs, crossing the distance.

"Spare is flat, too. How the hell are you? I didn't know you were back in town," Steve says, barreling forward, pulling Eddie off his feet.

It's been a long fucking time. 

"Yeah, enough of the old assholes have croaked that most of the townsfolk don't even remember my whole satanic murder spree," Eddie says dryly, hugging him back. "Wayne retired, and I moved home to keep him retired."

"You should have called. I'd have come to see you."

Helping pack Eddie up, only half-healed from his wounds, had been Steve's biggest what if in life. Eddie, the first to go.

Now, here he is.

Eddie smiles, face close, "I figured you had a whole life going."

"Divorced. Three times," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. There are wrinkles around his eyes, but he looks good. Really happy.

"Jesus Christ, Harrington. Don't you know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over-and-over, expecting different results?"

"Yeah, yeah," Steve jaws back. And it's nice, the banter. He's missed it. 

They get down on the ground at the tire together. AAA might be paying Eddie to change it, but Steve can fucking help.

Tire changed, hands dirty, Steve looks at Eddie, "You wanna grab a beer? I'll buy."

"Hell yeah you will, Harrington."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! ❤️

[miiyas]

op the way I'd do anything for a sakusa piece from u 🗣 preferably post-timeskip and maybe established relationship, BUT I'm open for whatever. you just write domesticity so well,,,,,, and sakusa is so habit driven,,, I need to see this pls 🙏

CHANGE IN PERSPECTIVE

you’re helping kiyoomi with his nightly hair routine

wc: 554, post-ts, a little ooc- i’m a little unsure of how to write for omi .., fluff, not proof read

kiyoomi has grown to likes his curls because you like them.

for the longest time, he’s only ever seen them as a a bit of a hassle, hair products mounting on the vanity of his bathroom as he consumes time just to make every curl perfect. he used to dream of how he would look like with hair that reflected the same style as his teammates — pin straight and easy to manage. but recently, he’s been thinking differently.

he’s been thinking differently because you like his curls. you like the way they bounce and shine, you like to watch him do his hair routine every night while you talk his ear off in your matching pajamas as he hums in response, mumbling an ‘oh yeah ?’ and occasional in puts of his own opinion and words.

on the special rare and intimate occasions where he doesn’t have the strength to do his hair after a long day of practice, sakusa melts into your touch as you carefully follow his tired voice and instructions as to how you should twist his hair in your fingers and how much product you should use.

he likes the way your fingers twirl around small strands of hair, making the coil form gently before moving on to a new section. he likes the way you hum out a soft tune, a song he recognizes as one that has been stuck in your head all week. and most importantly, kiyoomi doesn’t mind if you put the products in an unordered fashion on the vanity. the unfamiliar mindset of ‘i can fix it later’ has now grown onto him, cleaning up after your mess.

“hey, omi ?” your voice interrupts his thoughts, hands out of his silky hair. sakusa turns his body half way to see you inspecting a fully squeezed out bottle. “i think i’m gonna have to stop by the konbini tomorrow. this things out.” you hand the bottle over to your boyfriends bigger, more tougher ones. his shoulders slump as he struggles to push out any more product, brows furrowed in annoyance. with a sigh, kiyoomi rubs his tired eyes, revealing his verdict.

“we can cut the tube. where did you put the scissors ?”

you blink for a moment, a little surprised at his proposal. pointing out the bathroom door, you tell him that you’ll get one from the kitchen before taking quiet barefoot steps down the hall.

this is different.

kiyoomi doesn’t like getting his hands messy. he much rather purchase a tube roller to get the extra bits out rather than doing the extra work to dig at the corners of the dissected bottle.

but this is fun, he admits to himself. it’s fun to go through the extra work, to hear your laughter as you struggle to make a clean cut, to see that there’s no space on the small counter of the sink to put the two pieces of the bottle down along with the scissors.

it’s worth the mess, he thinks again. because at the end of the day, he can clean it up before he leaves for practice. he’ll wash the scissors real nice and put them back in the kitchen. he’ll throw out the empty hair product and give you an extra long kiss on the forehead in the morning.

[shiggyhatesme]

pairings & cw: t.todoroki x fem!reader , mentions of blood , cussing bcs it’s dabi , cigarette usage , inspo by this song

synopsis: in which dabi can’t take another night of hearing you on that damn piano without saying something wc 1.9k

the soft glow of moonlight peaked into the open windows of dabi's apartment, the only sound heard being his own heartbeat and the whispering breeze. he was a bit of an insomniac, luckily though, night was his favorite time anyway. he felt more comfortable hiding from the world in the dark shadows of the night, rather than sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of day.

the night was going fairly well for him, no disturbances, allowing for him to enjoy his cigarette in peace. the smoke infiltrating his lungs in a warm embrace, the fire inside of him ever growing.

well, that was until he heard the dreaded noise of you, his upstairs neighbor, playing piano.

'fucking hell man, one night, just fucking one.'

he turned away from his thoughts, putting the cigarette in his mouth to hold it as he climbed out of the window and onto the fire escape.

he looked up to your room seeing your windows open, the sheer white curtains adorning them dancing in the wind, a yellow hue cascading from inside. the sound of the piano becoming louder as he looked up to the source, taking another drag of the cigarette before putting it back into his mouth to hold as he climbed up the ladder to your apartment.

as he made his way to your portion of the fire escape, he quietly approached the window, finding your figure sat at a grand piano, passionately playing at the keys. he had never actually seen you before, so he was a bit taken aback upon observing your beauty.

as he sat and watched you play, he began to recognize the tune. it was the one he had always heard you playing, but not at this level. the one where he'd hear you begin to play, but miss a key and get angry. the one where he'd find himself laughing at the profanities you'd shout when you didn't get it right.

but here you were, a couple weeks later, playing it flawlessly. he noticed your passion as you played, head swaying, mind in the melodies. you didn't just play with your fingers, you played with your soul.

he scoffed to himself as he took one final drag of his cigarette, before throwing it down to the ground below him.

he sat himself down along your window and watched, before interrupting.

"finally managed to get it right, huh?"

he watched as you jumped in shock, your features horrified as you took in the sight in front of you. a random man sitting on your windowsill, grinning at you like a cheshire cat.

"what the fuck are you doing? are you insane?" you yelled, standing up and grabbing the nearest item (which happened to be a water bottle) and winding it back as if to throw it at him.

dabi chuckled, "if anyone should be throwing things at each other, it should be me. disturbing the whole complex with this noise."

you narrowed your eyes at him as you crossed your arms. "so you figured climbing the fire escape and sitting in my windowsill like a perv would be the best way to go about a noise complaint?"

"yes." he deadpanned, his blazing azure eyes staring into yours, causing them to roll.

you huffed and walked back over to your piano, taking a seat, "well you're the only person the seems to have a problem with it. shut your stupid windows if you don't want to hear it."

dabi studied you in your movements before retorting.

"i think i'd still hear it reverberating through the ceiling, doll."

your eyes rolled once again as you tucked a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, thinking of what to say next. you weren't going to stop playing, not for anyone, and certainly not for an arrogant son of a—

"what's it called?" he asked, tearing you away from your silent curses.

you raised a brow, not knowing what he was talking about. "huh?"

dabi scoffed as he pointed to the piano, nodding his head toward it. "the song you're playing. what's it called?"

your lips slightly parted in realization as you looked to your music sheet that sat in front of you. the same sheet that had been haunting you for weeks.

"it's called Chasing Kou. it's from a movie soundtrack, but i just had to learn how to play it."

dabi shifted slightly in his spot on your windowsill, getting more comfortable as he hummed in response.

“well go on then.”

you were lost again. this was beginning to become a common theme when engaging in conversation with him. he was a bit broad. so, again, your brow inches upward.

he must’ve noticed your obvious confusion because he scoffed as he moved from your window to the inside of your living room, your eyes widening as he approached.

bold as fuck.

you watched as he tapped a few times on the keys, then rested his arms on the lid. “the song you ditz. play it.”

you threw an annoyed glance his way before biting back, “i’m not ditzy, you just don’t know what context is apparently,”

you truly had nothing better to do than play for a stranger, so as strange as it sounded, you did.

you looked to him before starting, “off the piano, asshole.”

the raven-haired man chuckled before backing away, resting on the wall beside the piano. he watched as you turned your focus back toward the instrument, wiggling your fingers like a pre-game ritual. and then you started.

there it was. the all-too familiar sound, the sound that he began to grow accustomed to. the sound that, in the back of his mind where he’d never truly admit, he grew to love.

so he made it routine, these visits. he climbed that fire escape every night, as soon as that sound hit his ears. your sound. enveloping all of his senses; unavoidable.

he knew that he was starting to grow on you. he could tell in the way that you wouldn’t grab objects to throw in his direction once he appeared anymore. he could tell in the way that you left the window open a little wider as the days passed. dabi could tell in the way you’d get excited to show him the new song you found, how you were comfortable with messing up in front of him.

he found himself doing his own research. he’d spend hours scrolling through his phone on youtube, watching some of the best pianists of all time endlessly. educating himself on what the hell composers were, trying to learn more.

all for you.

you almost teared up the first time he mentioned a pianist he had taken interest in. you couldn’t believe he had taken the time to learn about your world. things you loved.

you almost teared up when he requested you to learn a song. he tried going about it nonchalantly, but you knew the child inside him was screaming.

“ya ever watched howl’s moving castle?” dabi asked as the two of you laid in your bed, your head on his lap while you studied music theory.

you peaked up at him from your textbook, marking the page you were on before closing it and turning on your side so you faced him.

“yeah, i think i watched it once or twice as a kid. why?” you asked, playing with the hem of his shirt.

he shrugged his shoulders before putting his hands behind his head, “i used to be obsessed with that shit. kid you not, probably watched it a hundred times.”

you chuckled at him, not wanting to pry too much. he rarely talked about his childhood, so you let him do it in bits and pieces on his own.

there was a comfortable silence that filled the room, the only sound being the synchronization of your breaths.

“learn the song for me, would ya? that merry-go-round of bullshit one.”

you didn’t tease him about it, you figured it meant a lot to him on the inside.

so you learned it.

spent days listening to it on repeat, studying the music sheet, practicing a few keys whilst also messing up a few. you even closed your window, extremely serious about surprising him with the final result, when you’d learn it in entirety.

so when dabi heard you shout his name from your window, he jumped up from whatever the hell he had been doing and eagerly climbed up.

he could’ve taken the elevator. but this was your thing now.

and you played it for him. swaying your head back and forth to the rhythm, fingers telling stories with the push of each key.

and dabi swore he fell in love with you all over again, blood streaming down his face where tears were unable to.

you lived like this for a while, until dabi finally mustered up the courage to ask you to officially be his girlfriend. followed by him asking you to move in with him, you stressing the fact that your only condition was you had to bring your piano with you.

so you both broke in your new house, your new shared bed, and found a good spot for your piano. there’d be restless nights where you had to wander into your living room to play a quick song, thinking dabi would be fast asleep.

little did you know he was awake every single time. to hell with his damned tear ducts, it was harder to hide the streams of crimson that he couldn’t help from spilling.

those same crimson streams that would stain the whites of the keys, every time he tried to play.

every. damn. time.

“daddy!” dabi heard from down the hallway, tiny footsteps pitter-pattering towards him.

he quickly wiped away the blood that stained his cheeks, pulling himself together as he turned his attention towards the little voice.

a messy bed-headed tiny version of you.

the little one climbed up her father and onto his lap as he sat in front of the piano, tiny fingers excitedly playing a mess of keys.

“morning kiddo. how’d ya sleep?” dabi asked, a soft smile pulling at his staples.

the little girl looked back at him and grinned her signature, missing-a-few-teeth, smile, e/c irises humming that same melody of innocence as yours.

“i sleeped good daddy! i heard you playing the song when i opened my eyes so i wanted to see! i really love it!” she gushed, turning back to the piano where her chubby fingers touched the keys again.

dabi felt his heart pang in his chest, holding himself together as he pressed a kiss to his daughters cheek.

he grabbed the picture of you that sat atop your piano, admiring the way you flashed your pearly whites at him as he snapped the photo. “you are just like your mother, ya know?”

the little girl beamed as she looked at the picture in her father’s hands, another toothless grin battling her chubby cheeks. “how daddy?”

dabi ran a hand through his daughters hair, placing the frame back where it stayed, where it belonged.

“this was your mother’s favorite song. the first song she played for me when i met her.”

[dickarchivist]

I've got you

Clone OC Banshee × GN-Reader

Word Count: 727

Prompt: "back hugs" from @littlemissmanga and "comfort fic for nonverbal reader" from @nika6q

Song: Get You The Moon by Kina (feat. Snøw)

Rating: PG, but as always Minors DNI 🔞

Contents and Warnings: hurt/comfort, light swearing, Banshee kicks a door down in the name of love.

Summary: It's been a long time since Banshee's been home, and the stress of life has you overwhelmed at the worst possible time: right when Banshee gets home.

Author's Notes: another Banshee POV!!! Some hurt/comfort this day. Sorry it's so short, and not at all what I've been saying I'd write next, but at least it's something.

Taglist: @returnofthepineapple @wizardofrozz @eclec-tech @dystopicjumpsuit @clonethirstingisreal @wings-and-beskar @multi-fan-dom-madness @starrylothcat @n0vqni @sev-on-kamino @mythical-illustrator @523rdrebel @littlemissmanga @atomickidsoul @moonwreckd

"Hey Ban~ Today is day 43 of our tragic separation, you're millions of miles away, and it's not fair. So today at work..."

"Day 55 of "No Banshee hugs for me". Seriously, when are you coming home? I miss you. Anyway, my Tooka came back from the vet today- oh right, I adopted a tooka kitten yesterday, I bet you can't guess what I named him-"

"Day 97, Rai told me you miss me. I just... I wish I could hear it from you. I know, I know it's not easy, I know you don't talk, I just-- I'd do anything to have you with me, just so I could understand that you miss me..."

"Day 122... I wish you'd come home..."

I've been listening to your recordings every day since I was deployed. All 132 of them. Every single day since we left, you sent me a diary of your day, stars I can't tell you how much I needed every single one of those. Running through battle fire, hearing you laugh about what "Banbino" was doing. I can't believe you named your tooka after me.

I've thought about you every second of the days. How your hair is tossed in the morning, how you scrunch your nose at how I make Caf... don't be mad, but I still haven't learned how to make it proper. The way your voice sounds and feels when you put my hands on your throat and chest, so I can feel every way you say you love me... I've thought about being with you again since the second I turned to leave 132 days ago.

So why am I stuck behind your front door? I can't even raise my hand to knock. Can't even enter the code to your flat... it's my number, you told me that so long ago now... I've been keeping track, I know it's your day off, I know you're just right behind this damn door so why can't I open it!? Come on Banshee! Open the door! Open the damn door, they're right on the other side, just open--

I... I heard that. Did you fall? Are you hurt? No, no don't be hurt I'm so bad at medical. C'mon, karkin' door open! Remind me to fix your locks, I'll replace them, I swear. Oh fuck, the hinges too, I uh... I kicked a little too hard, I think...

"Ban...?" You're crying... why... why are you crying?

When you hold your arms out to me, I dont even take a full step forward before you recoil and cover your face with a racking sob. I don't stop moving. I can't, you need me. I get to one knee behind you and gently rub your back, but it only makes you curl in on yourself more... what can I do for you?

Carefully I sit behind you, and collect you up in my arms, your back pressed to my chest. With my helmet off, I put my head on your shoulder, "I've got you, Cyare... I'm here."

You sound like me a moment, trying to talk, trying to force words. I shush you, leaning my head on yours and swaying softly. Eventually, you turn around, and bury your face in my neck. When I hum, you start to relax in my arms, and eventually, I can't help the little chuckle in my throat. You're snoring... Stars I love you.

It's another hour before you wake up. I moved us to your bed, and had since changed into the civvies you'd gotten me. Softer clothes, I figured you'd like it more than my hard armor...

"Banshee? You're... you're really home? I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry for-- I-I was just- I was so--" your blush when I press my lips to yours, it's so warm I could feel it on my own skin.

"I... it's okay, y-you don't ha-have to expl-pl-plain." Your eyes shine at the sound of my voice... I wish I could talk better, I'd speak for you all the time. "I've g-got you, Cyare."

You nod and set your head back on my chest. As I hum again, you join in, mumbling the words under your breath when you feel up to it. Take your time, Cyare. I know how hard it is to talk, I'm not going anywhere.

[blu3haw4]

@monochromeheartbeat HI! It's been FOREVER, this ask was more than a year old and tumblr deleted my direct answer >:[

From this Drabble list #8

57. Poor Judgment Is What It Is

For @wanhedasdaggerweek (and consequently for @lexa-griffins) My very first G!P Smut, and my very first beta-d work. I gave it my all and worked arduously to make it something I'd like, and now I love it. Shout out to @lg-wifey4lifey for beta reading and hyping me up.

You can find the little teaser/trailer format here.

Poor Judgment (on AO3 as well)

“It was a…” Lexa grimaced as she walked through the city with her best friend. The latina beside her, for once in her life was quiet, waiting for her, but the glare she directed her way kept Lexa from enjoying it “A canonical event. I’d say” Lexa tried her best casual shrug and failed spectacularly.

“Poor judgment is what it is!” her best friend scowled at her in her usual loud volume, and oh so frustrated.

“Okay, yeah. That too” Lexa sighed, defeated; she deserved it.

“Yeah, that too” the latina parroted back mockingly yet stern, scowling still. “Forgoing the condom, Lexa. What were you thinking?!” She hissed, exasperated, aware of their very much not private setting, and not caring one bit.

“I just-” Lexa groaned, she didn’t really have any excuse “I was-”

“Thinking with you pussy, clearly” Her best friend deadpanned. Right as they walked past an old couple.

“Raven!” Lexa yelped, blushing and hurrying her steps, wishing the ground would open and swallow her whole.

“How could you be so stupid?!”

“I’m sorry!” she hissed as she opened the door to their favorite café and held it for Raven.

“There were literally so many ways you could’ve avoided it!” Raven growled as they found their seats on a small nook by the back “Like, uhm, I don’t know, ask if she had one” She started counting with her fingers “buy one on your way, or I don’t know, maybe not getting dicked down!”  She glared harder at Lexa with each new point.

“I know! Okay? I know!” Lexa groaned trying to hide from any onlookers -or maybe just from her best friend’s rage- “I have no excuse, but it’s done, there’s no going back. And I’m getting tested tomorrow morning so… chill”

Raven rolls her eyes with a huff and leans back on her chair right as the waiter walks to their table. His name is John and knows them by name, so of course Raven jumps right into blaming Lexa for her mood and calling her stupid. Lexa is on edge the entire time hoping Raven respects her enough to not outright tell John what exactly she did to make her so upset. She joins in the conversation just in case and they order their regular before waving him goodbye.

Raven leans back again glaring at her, Lexa allows it, knowing that the roles have been reversed more times than not and Raven is probably savoring the chance.

“Okay. Whatever!” Raven rolls her eyes and Lexa smiles a little, knowing what’s next “Now…” Raven leans forward conspiratorially with a smirk “Details!”

They laugh and Lexa leans forward a bit for the sake of pretend privacy “Well, you know how the night started…”

***  The Night Before  ***

They had arrived over an hour prior to the club, skipping the line since they knew the bouncer, Roan, from college. They also got a first free round of drinks from the bartender, Echo, who they also knew from college -Raven had hooked up with both. Separately… as far as Lexa was aware.

They hit the dance floor after a quickly drunk second round and joined in a random big group. They didn’t need to talk, no one could really hear each other but they seemed to have passed the vibe check if the way a couple of them nodded knowingly at them was any indication. Their outfits blended with the group yet made them stand out in the best way; Raven wore a red leather top and a pair of black skinny jeans. Her hair was up in a bun and her make up screamed confidence. Lexa was in a white crop-top with dark green sleeves and bold letters across her chest, paired with an almost-pencil skirt that might be a size smaller than her regular, her eyes were outlined perfectly for the night.

They started to drift from each other about three songs ago and kept an eye out for each other. Raven was dancing between a group, visibly closer to a girl that she didn’t necessarily want to be close to. She searched for Lexa’s eyes and when they caught each other she signaled in front of her eyes with her hands, a special gesture of ‘get me out of here’. They had a couple of those, each one had a different level of urgency or delicacy needed. Lexa nodded and made her way over, still dancing and shouted once near enough if she’d want another round, they grabbed each other and made their way out of the dance floor.

By then, it felt like the crowd had doubled its size so they were constantly squeezed between groups. So eager to get out, Raven proposed shots so they could rest at the bar for a while. Lexa wasn’t so convinced but followed anyway, if only for the chance of a little more breathing room.

“I say tequila is out best option”

“If by best you mean most expensive” Lexa rolled her eyes leaning on the bar between two stools as Raven sat on the empty one.

“By best I mean Best. Tastier and stronger!”

“Isn’t it a bit early for shots?”

“I think it’s late for shots, we should be way more drunk by now.” Lexa didn’t have time to respond, nor comment that they were responsible adults now. Not college students who only wanted to get drunk, because she was shoved onto the bar by a body crashing behind her.

“Wow! Careful!” Raven shouted, not as ready to pounce at the disrespect as Lexa expected, which told her Raven had noticed it had been an accident.

“I’m so sorry! I tried to keep my balance, but the crowd is really shoving tonight. I’m really sorry!” a raspy voice said behind her before Lexa even had the chance to turn around.

She forgot anything she thought as an answer when she turned to look at the absolute goddess standing now next to her. Blonde shoulder-length hair seemed to shine even under the low club lights. The white blouse she wore was clearly meant for show, more than warmth by the way it was almost all the way open at the top. Showing the dark blue lacy-top underneath -and the fabulous rack held within- Lexa assumed there were black or dark dress pants if not jeans down her waist, but her eyes didn’t manage to make it that far. If she had managed to look away on time, she would’ve been able to stop Raven’s response.

“You can make it up by buying her a drink” Lexa turned quickly and alarmed Raven, frowning, ready to scowl but was again too slow.

“What are you two having?” the blonde asked with a conspiratory smile thrown Raven’s way.

“That’s really not necessary-”

“We were about to do shots. Tequila” Raven nodded firmly, confidently.

“We were-” Lexa started shaking her head at the woman in front of her but turned to her best friend when the blonde leaned to the side to call the bartender regardless. “We were not!” she hissed, blushing when Raven winked at her with a nod and hushed her with a look.

“Here they are” The woman caught their attention again just as three shots were placed between the two friends.

Raven took her shot clean before turning to the blonde “Thank you for that. I’m Raven, and this-” She swiftly moved out of her stool, grabbed Lexa’s arm and placed her onto it “Is my bff Lexa. Have fun!” she shouted before scurrying away.

Lexa couldn’t do anything other than scoff and smirk a little in disbelief at her best friend. She looked down -and so what if her gaze lingered on a certain cleavage, she’s only human- a bit embarrassed but ready to take a chance.

“Y’know…? I don’t consider these well done unless they’re body shots” The blonde said, leaning slightly closer, if only for better communication.

Lexa raised her eyebrows and looked at her up and down -and middle only for a second too long- once again “Damn! You’re bold. Cocky much?” she said instead of what the devil on her shoulder whispered.

“I would be…” she shrugged a little, and Lexa’s gaze dropped involuntarily again, and raised just in time to catch a well-defined smirk “If that wasn’t the fourth time your eyes dropped and lingered on my boobs since the moment you saw me”

And there goes a 5th one.

Lexa bit her lower lip to cover her smirk, she should’ve been embarrassed, but the second round was finally hitting her and the woman in front of her was too attractive to pretend like she was not interested. So, she grabbed a lemon slice and a pinch of salt, she rubbed the lemon over the side of the blonde’s neck -who turned her head to help- and took a chance continuing down to the woman’s collarbones. When she only huffed a laugh and her smirk grew, Lexa poured salt only there before grabbing her shot.

The woman took the lemon from her hand -even when there were more on the bar top- and the touch of their hands was electric, they both seemed to feel it by the way they looked at each other at the same time. Lexa didn’t take too long with the salt. Knowing boobs truly are her biggest weakness, she needed to keep her cool. Still, she downed the tequila with a grimace that quickly disappeared when she noticed the lemon slice held in front of the woman’s smirking mouth. Lexa lunged forward biting firmly into the lemon thinking ‘damn, you don’t even know her name!’. Only letting their lips touch for a moment before pulling away, taking the lemon with her. She bit harder onto it when the blonde tried to chase her.

She grabbed a second lemon slice catching the way the woman held onto the bar-top for balance. She slid it up the side of her neck and poured salt without breaking eye contact. The blonde moved closer, shot in her hand, but didn’t touch Lexa yet. There was a look in her eyes that left no questions as to how she wanted the night to end, still she seemed to be waiting for Lexa to take the lead. So, she does; Lexa grabs onto the back of the woman’s neck and dragged her in.

She took her sweet time, licking slowly up Lexa’s neck, kissing the side of her jaw, then biting lightly there, and her earlobe too. When the blonde tilted her head back to down her shot Lexa placed the tiny lemon slice between her lips. Her other hand still holding onto the woman’s neck kept her close as they shared a charged look before their mouth’s crashed. This time the touch was much more like a kiss. Their lips stayed together as the blonde took the lime into her mouth, and then her lips sucked on Lexa’s bottom one before Lexa pulled away again, still holding onto the back of the woman’s neck. She removed the lime from her lips and leaned her forehead against Lexa’s, chasing her lips as they both smirked.

“I’m Clarke. By the way”

Lexa huffs a laugh, still staying away “Nice to meet you” she says lowly. Clarke still isn’t holding Lexa by the time her hand drops from the back of her neck and grabs her hand. Lexa leans in, teasing, and speaks onto her lips “You wanna dance?”

“I’d love to” Clarke answers with a speed and a tone that tells Lexa that would’ve been her answer no matter the question. She moves back to help Lexa down from her stool, and there’s a smirk there. Confident but not cocky, willing and in no hurry. Lexa hates to love it.

After making their way through the crowd and finding a pocket of space Lexa turns to face Clarke with a smirk and starts dancing without letting go of her hand. Clarke stares at her for a moment, clearly enjoying the view before moving a little closer and starting to dance too. It’s an upbeat pop song that the entire crowd can kind of hum to, and it’s easy to get lost in the beat.

It hasn’t been that long since Raven left so Lexa isn’t worried about finding her yet. When the crowd settles for a sensual beat after a couple of songs mix in, she grins wide and the chance of more proximity to Clarke. She bites her lip and lifts their joined hands in the air to turn on her place and stay close to Clarke. The music is so loud she barely catches the low “Here it goes” that Clarke lets out when she’s fully turned, concerned by the tone Lexa turns her head trying to look at Clarke.

“What does?” she asks, but Clarke just shakes her head and probably shrugs. Sensing a change in the air Lexa turns around completely “You good?” she asks again, keeping her distance in case that is the problem, but still holds Clarke’s hand.

“I’m great” Clarke says, with a face that is very clearly trying to convince her, but there’s a shadow in her eyes that wasn’t there at the bar. Before Lexa can ask again, they’re pushed together by the crowd, Lexa’s arms instinctively go up to Clarke’s shoulders and she grabs her by the hips. They still end up pressing fully front to front.

Clarke exhales and Lexa is about to apologize when she feels it. She doesn’t need to look down to put two and two together, but she does instinctively anyways.

“Already?” She teases, looking up again without missing a beat because her gaze had drifted down -and made it past her chest finally- on their way to the dance floor. And that bulge was not there before they started dancing.

Clarke’s eyes light up. There’s a fire in her eyes that’s a mix of gratefulness and excitement. Her pupils dilate too; Lexa ignores that last thing… for now. They are forehead to forehead again, as close as the crowd pushed them to be. Swaying to the music and Clarke seems to want to say something but keeps quiet.

When the song changes again Lexa throws her head back and half shouts “I love this song!” She might’ve never heard the song before, but she turns around anyways and grins wide when Clarke’s hands only leave her hips to move up to her waist.

It doesn’t take long for Clarke to lean forward a little and kiss her shoulder as they dance. She hums to the music and nudges at Lexa’s jaw to make her tilt her head and give her space to kiss her there. It’s intimate, maybe too intimate for how little they’ve known each other, but it feels right.

“You have no idea how hot your response was” Clarke whispers directly into her ear. It’s not easy to hear it with the music so loud, but Lexa catches it oh so clearly. Way too focused on everything Clarke was doing to not get it, and all the meaning behind it.

Clarke pulls at her hips to turn her around and Lexa doesn’t resist. The beat drops just in time and Lexa rounds her arms over Clarke’s shoulders. They rest their foreheads together again and Clarke draws her closer with her arms around her waist. They’re both biting their lips, and their smirks. The music goes on and on and they’re engrossed in the crowd's push and pull of movement. Too engrossed to initiate a kiss just to withdraw a second after. Chasing and dodging a kiss that they both so desperately want. But neither is willing to give into… yet.

The music changes once, twice, and they keep giggling and huffing and sighing as they dance against each other. Holding onto each other as they get bolder with their advances and their hands. Moving together more firmly, decisively.

Lexa is the one who breaks first, huffing and taking a deep breath when Clarke moves to kiss her neck, right after lightly licking Lexa’s bottom lip. With one hand on Clarke’s shoulder and the other tangled in her golden locks she nudges Clarke’s head to lure her back up. She enjoys the chase for a little while longer, holding the back of Clarke’s head firmly before diving in.

Clarke wastes no time reciprocating with the same vigor. It takes the sweep of Lexa’s tongue into Clarke’s mouth for her to step forward and move her hands down to grab onto each of Lexa’s ass cheeks and pull her impossibly closer. Lexa moans into the kiss. Clarke’s movement lifts her up a bit and Lexa can feel her conviction to play hard drifting from her. So, because she can’t let Clarke win quite that easily, she pulls slightly away.

Clarke takes the chance to break for air and Lexa tilts her head to the side just in time for Clarke’s lips to land on her throat instead. It’s not the best scenario, since a chill runs from Clarke’s lips all the way down to Lexa’s core in that position, but it gives her time to plan her next move. Clake moves making her way back up, and right when she’s about to recapture her lips, Lexa turns around, flipping her hair to make sure Clarke has access to her neck and purposely rocks her hips back.

She hears Clarke groan into her shoulder as she pulls at Lexa’s hips, guiding the rhythmic sway of her hips against her crotch. One of Lexa’s hands holds Clarke’s on her hips while the other moves up to keep Clarke’s head against her neck. Her own head is tilted to the side giving her both permission and access to kiss and lick her neck.

They go on like that for a couple of hours, grinding and dancing against each other. Turning and kissing, chasing and dodging, smiling and giggling and turning again to repeat the sequence. Lexa keeps scanning the room every so often to check on Raven and signal that they’re both alright.

There isn’t really any cathartic moment before they decide to leave. The closeness and sensuality of their movements progressively gets higher, but it’s really just them dancing and kissing one moment and the next Lexa is leading Clarke out of the dance floor to where she last saw Raven.

They find her leaning against a wall rocking into a guy kissing her neck. She seems to be having the time of her life, and Raven confirms it when they find each other’s eyes. With a quick gesture back and forth Lexa knows she’ll be leaving with that guy and Raven knows Lexa’s leaving with Clarke.

It’s not too hard to get out of the club and Clarke takes the lead calling a cab. Lexa leans against the outside wall, and with the hand still holding Clarke’s she drags her in with her. They end up forehead to forehead, both on their phones. Lexa with one hand texting her location to Raven and the other in Clarke’s hair, while she’s getting a cab and holding the small of Lexa’s back with her free hand.

Even without music they slide right back into their chase. Kissing shoulders and necks, sucking on earlobes and biting jaws. They’re so engrossed in their little bubble the cab driver has to call Clarke’s phone to announce that she arrived.

The short drive to Clarke’s apartment - that Lexa notes is towards the right side of the city- is pure tension. They sit close together and try to be polite to the driver with small talk. Unfortunately for him, they’re both mildly drunk and oh so horny. Their hands wander around each other, touching and grabbing, tickling each other and only stopping inappropriate paths with kisses and giggles.

Lexa was slowly but surely falling for Clarke’s kisses. She was careful yet passionate, caring and confident at the same time. Her lips were truly addictive and by the way Clarke was sighing she seemed to think the same thing about Lexa’s.

Her first awaited orgasm was a delicious unraveling. As soon as they made it past the front door Clarke guided her to the closest horizontal surface and lifted Lexa onto said kitchen counter. In no time her skirt was pushed up and Clarke toyed with her folds as they continued to make out.

When Lexa expected a quick foreplay before hurrying to bed, Clarke took her time kissing all over Lexa’s neck and shoulder. Biting her earlobe, collarbones and jaw. Always going back to her lips for a heated kiss and constantly checking in for consent on her hand’s movements. Lexa was really torn, hating that she loved the build up because her body was ready and screaming for release.

Though completely topless -Lexa’s doing. Blouse on the elevator, bra as the front door closed- Clarke didn’t get rid of Lexa's top yet, she palmed her breasts over the shirt and lifted it only far enough to teasingly kiss Lexa’s sternum. As Clarke’s hands moved back to grab a handful of Lexa’s butt-and stayed there for minutes that felt like the best hours until Lexa’s breath calmed down- Clarke’s mouth never stopped its ministration. Moving with kisses and teasing licks to her hip bones and thighs, biting softly before she latched herself to Lexa’s core.

Clarke ate her out with a passion that got Lexa questioning who was really getting off of it. When Lexa came, her legs locking Clarke’s head where she was, she persisted, never wavering on her quest to pleasure Lexa.

“Oh fuck” Lexa moaned -okay, whimpered, but she wouldn’t admit it- once Clarke finally moved her mouth away from her cunt after cleaning her up -and definitely making a bigger mess.

She kissed her way up to Lexa’s lips and moaned with her as their tongues instantly met. It wasn’t a surprise for Lexa to enjoy her own taste off someone else’s mouth, but Clarke added something more. Something new that made her want more and more.

“Put me down” Lexa sighed into Clarke’s mouth, needing to have a little control over the situation. By the look on Clarke’s face when she pulled away from the kiss to comply, she would’ve done just about anything Lexa asked of her.

She lifted Lexa off the counter by her thighs and placed her on the ground. Lexa had time to check her surroundings and decided then and there where she was going to have her way with Clarke. She surged into a kiss Clarke was waiting for and walked her back towards the couch. Pushing Clarke a little so she would lean over the back of it as they continued making out.

Lexa moved her hands to Clarke’s uncovered chest and groped her breast lazily, getting a feel of their size and softness while staying attentive to Clarke’s reactions. Lexa moaned into Clarke’s mouth as she pulled her close with her hands on her ass. Lexa began to grind on her crotch and moved her mouth to Clarke’s jaw just in time to hear the uncontained groan she let out at the movement.

Sucking onto Clarke’s pulse point she gave a pointed pinch to each of her nipples and asked “Are they sensitive?” and she didn’t need a verbal answer when Clarke gasped, thrusting her hips and pulling Lexa closer to her.

“More than you’d imagine” Clarke hushed her answer anyways. Throwing her head back only for a moment before lifting her head and angling for a kiss that Lexa gave her without hesitation.

Lexa smirked into the kiss as Clarke pulled her closer, making her grind against her in rhythm with the way Lexa was rolling and pinching her nipples. Clarke’s kiss grew uncoordinated as she continued to let out the sexiest of sounds into Lexa’s mouth. In lure to enjoy those sounds to the fullest Lexa moved her lips to Clarke’s jaw, down her throat, through her collarbones until she finally looked up to catch Clarke’s eyes as she sucked an erect nipple into her mouth.

“Fuuuck…” Clarke moaned. Rolling her head back at the sensation and rolling it forward again to continue looking at Lexa.

With one boob in her mouth and the other in her hand, Lexa’s free hand moved to single-handedly unbutton and unzip Clarke’s trousers. She then replaced her mouth for her free hand and lifted to steal a kiss from Clarke.

“Help me out” she hushed into her mouth as she moved both her hands back to grab a hold of Clarke’s on her ass-cheeks. With some resistance she guided Clarke’s hand to her own waistband, and they moved together to free Clarke’s staff and pull both her pants and boxers down.

Before Lexa had a chance to take the neglected nipple into her mouth, Clarke grabbed the hem of her top to pull it up and off before pulling her closer for a kiss. Lexa rounded her arms over Clarke’s shoulders as she pulled her closer with her arms around her waist. Lexa sighed a breathy moan at the feeling of Clarke’s hardness against her lower stomach, making her smirk into the kiss. Clarke lowered her hands to her ass again -it seemed she wasn’t the only one with a weakness- and pulled her closer still as they continued to exchange a heated kiss.

As they pulled away for air, Lexa regained her focus and took a quick trail back down to Clarke’s chest. She made sure to suck and kiss Clarke’s left boob as well as massage and grope her right one with the same attention she did the other way around.

Lexa made sure to look up at Clarke as she grabbed a tentative hold of her dick. She felt it twitch in her hand and she gave a tentative pull, following the cant of Clarke’s hips and enjoying the way her breath caught and stuttered.

She started a slow, deliberate pace as she continued to enjoy the feel of Clarke’s breast in her mouth and hand. Lexa’s confidence built as Clarke’s breaths grew labored and heavy, her hand moved steadily with her thumb occasionally swiping over the sensitive head. Once she was satisfied with her work on Clarke’s chest, she raised her head, and Clarke immediately captured her lips.

“Let’s go to my room” Clarke said, leaning her weight on the couch behind her, both hands on Lexa’s waist keeping her close.

“Oh, I’m not done with you,” Lexa whispered sensually. Biting her lip and drawing it out, before doing the same with Clarke’s lip, never breaking eye contact on the motion of her hand.

Her now free hand moved from Clarke’s boob down to her hip as she leaned for a kiss that was all tongue and teeth. Lexa kissed her way down Clarke’s body as she steadily knelt on the ground. Clarke’s hands moved to her shoulders as she took long deep breaths, waiting, watching for Lexa’s next move.

The first tentative lick over the head of her staff had Clarke snapping one of her hands back to grab onto the couch. The first inch Lexa took into her mouth had her moaning out loud, fighting to keep eye contact.

As Lexa took more and more of Clarke into her mouth and continued to jerk her off, Clarke’s moans became a mixture of bitten curses and chants of Lexa’s name loud and free. Like she couldn’t be bothered to mask how affected she was. Her hips rocked with clear restraint into Lexa’s hand and mouth, and her own hand couldn’t keep still. Holding onto Lexa’s shoulder, moving to the back of her neck, caressing her jaw and back again.

“Fuck- Lexa, you feel so good” Clarke managed to breath out between moans, making Lexa smile -or as close to a smile as she could get with Clarke’s dick almost down her throat.

“I’m so close-” Clarke threw her head back “Let me-” her own moan interrupted her.

Lexa narrowed her eyes, knowing there was no way in hell she wasn’t having her way. She let go of Clarke’s staff with a wet pop speeding the pace of her hand to make sure Clarke stayed on edge.

“Clarke, look at me” she ordered, softly, but a command nonetheless. It took a minute, but Clarke managed to look down at her “Do I look like I want you to pull out?” she whispered sweetly, licking the underside of her dick to draw her point across “Besides…” she added, blushing and staring at her jerking hand before looking back up “You swallowed mine”

***  Coffee shop,  Present time  ***

Raven whistles, cheering her on “You nasty, nasty slut!” She grins, actually keeping her tone down for once “That’s what I’m talking about! This is why we’re friends”

“You’re… so weird” Lexa rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed, and legs crossed tight under the table.

“And so are you, my kinky friend” Raven winks, seemingly unaware, or not caring about Lexa’s flustered state.

“I don’t- I’m not-… Whatever!” she huffs “I’ll never be as freaky as you, so calm down” she mutters because she really wants to believe it. She’s heard quite literally everything about Raven’s sex life and she’s sure there’s things that she could never imagine for herself.

“Yet I’ll never get dicked down without them wearing a condom while I’m not on the pill, so… allow me to insult you”

With a huff Lexa rolls her eyes and sips from her tea. She’s not getting away from that one for a long while, Raven will probably use it against her for months, if not years.

“Okay, what’s next? Are we about to make me really fucking angry?”

Chuckling, Lexa bites her lip “Almost” she smirks “First I gotta tell you how I got fingered into an orgasm while I gave her a blow job” she says nonchalantly as Raven’s jaw drops with a gasp.

“Position?”

“She was sitting on the bed, I was…” she pauses, looking up, thinking, remembering and smiling at it with a blush, and biting her lip. Raven whistles to tease her “I was beside her, leaned over”

“Uhm…” Raven looks up this time, imagining “How though? For her to have f- Oh! … Oh” Raven smirks devilishly at her “On all four you mean” she whispers with a giggle, wagging her eyebrows teasingly.

“I-” Lexa blushes, but can’t help but smile “Yeah… sideways” she task her tongue looking away from Raven “I had to get her hard y’know, I- did suck her clean-”

“That you did”

“And I started with just a hand job, but… I just couldn't help myself” she mutters, knowing Raven would hear it anyways “and well she reached out…” she continued quickly “and I… well, I wasn’t gonna complain” she finally looked at her best friends smirking conspiratorially.

“Nah-ah!” Raven shakes her head, giggling right after making Lexa join. It all turns into a full belly laugh at the absurdity of the.

“God, Raven” Lexa sighs, still chuckling. She covers her eyes at her next thought “I think having her dick by my throat might’ve actually made me come faster” She hushed with a grimace that could’ve passed as a smirk.

“Damn!” Raven nods approvingly “Told ya… kinky” she says with a shit eating grin, pointing her finger at the two of them and raising an approving eyebrow.

“Whatever. So, I was like… it kinda took me by surprise…? Not completely, obviously, but God! It was so fast and just so good that I didn’t even feel embarrassed. She figured me out in no time, Raven I swear. I don’t know how she did it”

Lexa sighed daydreaming a little, she didn’t even notice Raven studying her from across the table, caught in the memory of just how much fun she had with Clarke. It had been a long time since she clicked with someone quite like that, and it had never happened this quickly. Clarke had been addictive, and she seemed to be addicted to Lexa too, they were both so sure of what they wanted and very willing to give and take from each other with no judgment or embarrassment.

“I just had to kiss her” Lexa eventually continued “She just… looked almost as wrecked as I felt and-” she sighs “She was also such a good kisser that I just kinda… forgot what I was doing”

Raven snorts at her and Lexa just shakes her head, she would snort at herself too.

“So we’re just kissing and moving up the bed, and I remember what I want so, she’s hovering over me and… well we were teasing, y’know, we were having fun. She reached for her dresser-”

“Wait- Hold on” Raven raises her hands, frowning so deep that her eyes close for a moment and Lexa holds her breath “You noticed she was looking for a condom?”

Lexa swallows, there’s a long silence as Raven glares at her, daring her to keep going. Silently daring her to speak about the actions she could no longer undo.

“We talked about it. Actually”

“You ta- You talked-” Raven kept covering her mouth and huffing angry breaths “You talked about it!?” She hissed finally.

“… yeah” Lexa grimaced, cautious to not say more than what Raven was asking.

“To what extent did you talk about it?! Did you tell her you aren’t on the pill?” Lexa grimaced, nodding her head, but before she could answer verbally Raven cut her off  “Oh! You did tell her! So she knew, and you knew and you both still chose wrong?!”

“Well… she pulled out” Lexa tried to help her case.

“Oh yeah! Because that fixes everything!” Raven glared at her pointedly, sarcasm loud and clear. Then, as if annoyed at even looking at her, she rolled her eyes “Ugh! Jesus. Do you realize you might be pregnant?” She leaned over the table to hiss at her.

“I’m getting tested tomorrow” Lexa deflected.

“You might still be pregnant!”

“And it can be fixed, can’t it?” Lexa raised her eyebrows.

“God!” Raven covered her eyes leaning her elbow on the table “I’m terrified at the thought that half the shit that comes out of your mouth is my doing”

Lexa giggled triumphant “Thank you”

“Thank you” Raven mocked back with a frown “Please, at the very least, tell me she was the one convincing you”

“Uhm… well… it was kinda… mutual”

“Mutual? Seriously?”

“We both had input on the matter” Raven takes a deep breath, glaring murderously at her before sighing just as deep.

“Fine. She tells you there’s no condom, You tell her you’re not on the pill. She said she’s pulling out, or did you tell her?”

“I mean- well, it kinda… we first agreed that it was a bad idea-” Lexa starts, trying to take the reins of the conversation.

“And decided you didn’t care”

“No!... not immediately. We knew it was a bad idea, and we said to each other, but we also… really wanted to… fuck” Lexa sighed, Raven continued to glare at her but kept quiet “I pointed- well I asked her if she was clean, because I knew I was. So she said she was and even offered to show me the test results -I declined- and then she also told me that… her sperm isn’t the most effective anyways”

“Oh really?” Raven asked, still looking murderously.

“Well we kept saying how terrible of an idea it was. That we should just do something else. But any time she agreed with me, I just wanted to disagree” Lexa groaned, leaning her elbow on the table and sliding forward “I was so fucking horny Rae, and I had her in my mouth, genuinely all I wanted was to have her inside me” She pouted at her friend, begging her to understand.

“So she was big? Because this is literally the only thing that might actually save you from my rage”

“God, so big, Rae”

“Don’t lie to me!” Raven points angrily.

“I’m not! I’m serious!” Raven narrows her eyes still.

“For real?”

“Fuck yes”

“How big?” Raven’s tone starts to change, but she holds onto her scowl.

“Uhm… jeez, would you believe me if I told you she might’ve been eight inches?”

“Eight? No way” Raven shakes her head.

Lexa adjusts on her chair, sliding down a little and extending her pinky away from her thumb to measure how far she remembers feeling Clarke inside of her “Do you think a little bit more than this is 8 inches?” she asks extending her hand to ‘pass’ the measurement to Raven

“Holy fuck!” Raven’s eyes go wide as she ‘takes’ the same measurement with her own hand “She was eight inches!?” she moves her hand measuring all around her body as if comparing the size.

“Yeah…” Lexa sighs dreamily “Hell, Raven and the grith?” Lexa bites her lips and rolls her eyes. She covers her face for a second and drops her voice “I’ve been with girls who had dicks before, I’ve done plenty of toys, but her? Fuck she was perfect! I swear she could’ve done nothing- I bet she could’ve been soft and rail me the same”

“Hold on, so on top of everything, she’s a shower?”

“I- I don’t know… no? I think she was a grower actually”

“If you couldn’t tell, shouldn’t we assume she was a shower?”

“I mean it’s not that- I think, ugh I don’t know, the girth was always the same, but like… I did feel her going from soft to hard”

“But did it grow?”

“Ugh Raven I don’t know! I think you’re forgetting that a) I was a little drunk and b) she also had the most spectacular rack! I was a little distracted! And post orgasm!” Lexa exasperated, lifting two fingers and nodding pointedly at Raven, who merely rolls her eyes.

***  The Night Before  Clarke’s bedroom  ***

Despite the awkward conversation and long pause -and poor decision making -or maybe thanks to that-- they continued to have so much fun. They giggled between kisses as they moved against each other. Hands roaming and tickling, eliciting laughs and gasps of pleasure. With labored breath born from kissing and anticipation alone, Clarke took the lead.

“I’ll go slow, okay?” She whispered against Lexa’s lips. One hand beside Lexa’s shoulders and the other beside her ribs on the bed. Both her knees planted between Lexa’s parted legs. Lexa had her feet firmly beside Clarke’s knees, and both her hands grabbing onto Clarke’s shoulders.

And Clarke did go slow, checking in over and over again. This time Lexa didn’t even pretend to hate how much she liked it. She liked it almost as much as the feeling of Clarke stretching her.

The laughs were exchanged with sighs and moans while they smiled at each other between labored breaths. Clarke groaned when she bottomed out and Lexa’s eye rolled back as she whimpered “Oh fuuuuck… me”

“On it” Clarke huffed a laugh, and Lexa couldn’t help the answering snort.

With a deep breath Clarke lifted her head from Lexa’s shoulder. She kissed the side of her jaw and then her lips in a sweet kiss as Lexa’s hands caressed her arms and shoulder. The kiss heats up and Lexa lifts her feet to cross them over Clarke’s ass. Moaning into her mouth as the movement makes Clarke settle deeper inside of her.

“Fuck…” Clarke hushed.

“Clarke…” Lexa sighed ever so slightly rolling her hips while they shared a breath.

“Are you sure?” Clarke sighed back, restrained in her voice and her rigid body.

“As amazing as it feels to have you right here, fully inside me…” Lexa bit her and before she could continue Clarke stole it with her own teeth, licking it before letting go with a smirk. “I bet it feels much better when you’re moving”

“Mmh… good theory” Lexa snorted followed by a low chuckle that she muffled against Clarkes lips.

“Clarke just fucking… fuck me” She moaned, rolling her hips more pointedly, and grabbing at either side of Clarke’s face to glare at her lustfully.

Clarke licked her lips, a low moan caught in her throat as she stared transfixed at Lexa “If only to prove your theory” she recovered though, smirking down at her and kissing her softly at the same time that she, ever so slowly, pulled back.

The first thrust was slow and careful, making them both sigh as they adjusted-Lexa to the stretch and Clarke to the tightness- the few that followed were the same as Clarke measured how far back to go before they found a rhythm.

Their lips never strayed from each other for too long. Only for a sigh, or a moan, or a lustful look down to their joined bodies. Clarke rolled into her with a softness born from the need to please, the need to make Lexa feel good, to make sure she was comfortable and not hurting.

“Oh Cla-ark… fuuuuck” kisses moved from her mouth down her jaw and stayed at her pulse point when Lexa’s head tilted back in pleasure when her back arched off the bed.

With relentless hands Lexa groped and caressed all of Clarke’s exposed skin making her moan and every so often lose her momentum. She took advantage of it, rolling her hips sensually each time, eventually matching Clarke’s thrust as she started to retreat more, driving her hips fluidly against hers.

“Fuck Lex- You feel so good” Clarke moaned into her lips as their foreheads pressed together. Lexa’s answering moan brought a little smile to her lips but did erase the slight frown between Clarke’s eyebrows.

A little too preoccupied with her rapid breathing, the immense pleasure and hint of pain running and shock-waving through her body, Lexa didn’t really have the mind to comment on it, but soon Clarke took it upon herself from smothering it. Smoothly, yet surprisingly abruptly, Clarke lifted onto her hands, the rocking of her hips slowly but not stopping as she adjusted above Lexa.

“Wha-Ahh!” A deep thrust was paired with the wet slick on Clarke’s tongue against Lexa’s nipple. Her question cut short, as the need to meet the next thrust overcame her. A deep moan was shared as they found yet another rhythm of rocking into each other, this time with Lexa’s hands tangled on Clarke’s head while her mouth lapped and sucked relentlessly at her breast.

Lexa’s breathing became significantly more agitated. Her moans louder, incoherent and her movements more jerky, desperate, instinctively more than coordinated. Still, it was not lost on her, each smirk and huff or satisfied laugh pressed into her boobs by Clarke as the woman rocking on top of her switched and devoured her expertly.

“Clarke. Clark- Clarke fuck!” her head was rolling back relentlessly as her back arched off the bed in sync with the cant of her hips into Clarke’s.

All the while, Clarke’s breath quickened too. Her kisses growing desperate, indecisive of where to go next; her mouth traveled over the valley between Lexa’s breasts, up to her collarbones, back down and up her neck, kissing and biting her jaw and earlobe and stealing a desperate uncoordinated kiss with so much tongue that any other moment Lexa would have blushed.

Her hands moved too, shifting her weight from one arm to the other as she took her time grabbing and caressing all of Lexa. Running her nails up her sides, making her shiver. Eventually, as if reading her like an open book, when Lexa’s breathing was harsh and uneven, when her moans were no longer words and could barely resembled Clarke’s name, she leaned her weight all over to her right and grabbed a tight hold of Lexa’s hip, making sure their eyes connected before she changed the rhythms, rocking faster with her new found leverage on Lexa’s hip.

“Ohhhh Fuuuuuuuuck-”

“Lexa… Look at me” her own words were thrown back at her and Lexa couldn’t help the smirk that sneaked in between moans and whimpers. And she tried, she really did, but she was so close, she couldn't control the rolling of her head nor the arching of her back or the uneven cant of her hips -or attempt of, since Clarke had her pinned with one hand and her thrusting hips.

“I’m- Fuck! Clarke!” hushed breath and moans left her before she could gather enough lucidity to moan out “Don’t stop-Fuck!”

And Clarke didn’t, all too pleased with the still sensual and soft, while fast, rolling of her hip and the way it was driving Lexa crazy. She kept the rhythm and the kissing and the hold on her until Lexa’s body tensed up. A broken shout caught in her throat as she shook with pleasure. Clarke didn’t stop. With her mouth attached to Lexa’s collarbone, she merely slowed gradually until Lexa’s shivers ceased, and she laid on top of her resting almost all her weight.

Lexa wasn’t sure if she'd ever come from penetration alone. Not without it being a vibrator at least. And okay Clarke had been stimulating her nipples, but she still couldn’t remember an orgasm that good.

Sighing heavily and feeling like Jell-O, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the aftermath. Gradually growing conscious of Clarke sucking a path up her neck. She gathered enough strength to guide Clarke's mouth to her when she reached her jaw.  Clarke licked into her mouth slowly and deeply, sealing a first kiss with passion and softness.

“You’re so gorgeous when you come…” She hushed between kisses as they adjusted against each other, kissing deeply, more decisive “Well you’re gorgeous all the time”

“Ohh smooth talker” Lexa giggled, moving her hands to cup the back of Clarke’s neck and keep her close, she couldn’t stop kissing her, and each new nip, and lick built up the fire inside her, sure she just came, but the fire didn’t extinguish.

“You look so hot on top of me” She hushed as their kissed got fuller, and she gripped firmer onto Clarke’s neck “I want to watch you come” She moaned “I want to make you cum”

“Fuck Lexa” Clarke sighed, her breathing growing agitated as they started a slow roll against each other while their kisses kept getting dirtier and dirtier.

“And while that- was amazing sex…” Lexa managed between the dance of their tongues “I want you to fuck me” she stated, a definitive whisper accentuated by the firm kiss planted on Clarke’s lips “I want you to rail me” She added, and kissed Clarke again, a little longer this time, fully in control of the distance between their mouths “and I want you to cum while you do it” she finished with a sensual roll of her hips that she kept up until Clarke’s hand shot down.

“Fuck Lex-” Clarke had to pull away from the kiss as a moan surge from deep withing her chest. Her hand held onto Lexa’s rolling hip, instinctively resuming the pace with which she made Lexa come and thrusting harder.

“Wait-” She pulled slightly away, slowing her movements “You sure?”

Lexa kissed her and tried to match the cant of her hips to the rhythm Clarke had started while restrained by Clarke’s hand. “Yeah…” She moaned into her lips, chasing Clarke’s tongue “I’ll tell you if it hurts” She promised, and then, because she could, because they were having fun and communicating, she added “though so far it has only felt good when it hurts”

Clarke only moans in response, surging into the next kiss hungrily, moving the way Lexa asked her.

“Oh and Clarke?” She hushed as her breath started to quicken from the pace “I want to play with your nipple while you do it, so you’re gonna have to lift up” she grinned, biting her lip at the thought alone.

“Fuuuuck, yeah” Clarke moaned, proving she wasn’t alone in the feeling “Fuck yes” she nodded, swiftly moving lean on her hands.

Her knees adjust between Lexa’s legs, and she plants each hand right beside Lexa’s waist. With her arms fully stretched her thrusts are less fluid, yet deeper. It also gives room for Lexa to reach up easily to grope her tits, which makes her moan.

This time there’s not really a rhythm, Lexa is a master at following and matching each new one, but Clarke is shifty. She goes from humping into Lexa with abandon, to leaning down to kiss her while she rolls smooth and deep. Her hands hold her weight planted on the bed or grabbing onto Lexa. Her lips can’t find a permanent place to stay as she moans and sighs labored breaths.

“Lex-Lexa -Fuck!” At some point taking care of all five senses seems to prove too much, because she closes her eyes, no matter the continuous shift of position she won’t open them. Frowning and grunting as her pace fastens “-can you… Ohhh-! can you suck my nipple” she breathes out between kisses.

Lexa is all too content to comply “Fuck yeah, yeah yeah yess, c’mere” She hushed between heavy breaths as she pulled and pushed at Clarke to get a better angle.

The way she has to fold herself and Clarke’s need to be higher up makes each thrust deeper, each pull back shorter, and it seems to be just what Clarke needs. Lexa doesn’t let go of the boob in her mouth as Clarke moves and adjusts, leaning her weight this way and that as her rocking turns more erratic by the minute.

“Like that, fuck Lexa just like that, oh fuck, yes” Clarke starts chanting, loud and free and desperate, her breath is labored and Lexa isn’t much better.

Abruptly, Clarke pushes herself up, pulling out of Lexa as she seats back on her heels and grabs her dick to finish. Lexa whimpers with a frown at the sudden loss but recovers quickly. Moving up to kneel beside Clarke, kissing her, and joining her hand to jerk her off to the last drop together.

The guttural sound that Clarke moans into Lexa’s mouth is one of the most beautiful and sexiest things Lexa has ever heard. She can’t help but jerk her hand faster, trying to ignite another one from Clarke. It doesn’t really work though; Clarke is slowing her own hand as she tries to breathe normally between kisses that are mostly tight presses of lips.

She moans a tired heavy sigh into the kiss. Leaning against Lexa as they still hold onto her now soft staff. Clarke allows Lexa to pull occasionally, in the little time they stay like that, simply breathing into each other.

The kiss resumes after a while just like everything else between them, naturally. It’s all smiles and pecks and little satisfied happy sighs. Lexa eventually leans back intending to drag Clarke with her and ends up dropping ungracefully backwards with a huff. Clarke is quick to follow her though, with a chuckle that makes Lexa smile wide and free before their lips meet in a sweet kiss.

They make out side by side for a long time, content with just holding each other for now “Can I ask you a question?” Clarke breaks the silence, whispering softly, both their eyelashes fluttering as they look at each other.

Lexa hums affirmatively. Prompting Clarke to go on “Was this-Have you ever…  been with…”

“A real dick before?”

“A girl with one” Clarke smiles at Lexa’s unbothered tone.

“I have” Lexa nods “I’ve only ever been with women, for the record-” and Clarke was kissing her deep and heavy and Lexa wasn’t sure what she had said or done but she wasn’t about to complain. She grabbed at Clarke with the same intent that she grabbed her, pulling each other close.

They parted with a wet sound and Clarke heaved a breath “You’re so hot when you say things like that” she hushes before surging into another kiss, not giving Lexa the chance to speak.

“You mean- Things a- Basic de- Decent human- should say?” Lexa managed between kisses after catching up.

“I’m going to fuck you again” Clarke stated “I’m going to make you feel so good, that’s what you deserve. God you’re fucking perfect” She hushed against her jaw. Right below her ear making a shiver run down her spine straight to her core. And she wanted to argue a little. That she really didn’t deserve more for the minimum, but… she also wasn’t about to let go of the chance of more amazing orgasms by ruining the mood.

So she let the kissing continue, and it went on and on and it didn’t heat up necessarily, it slowed and became languid and sensual in its own way. It felt like a new path to the same goal.

“Do you think I should clean up? Before going again” Clarke whispered against her lips and Lexa felt it in her chest, they were fully pressed against each other. Their breasts tight together.

“Hmm, maybe we should” she nodded absently, only a little bob that made their nose bump against each other.

“Just in case” Clarke whispered, and they both smiled and giggled between kisses “Is it okay if I clean you up” she asked softly, teasingly, and Lexa smiled, humming in agreement, happy with the thought of such a moment.

And then Clarke was kissing her way down her body and pushing her to lay on her back “Oh that type of cleaning” she huffed a laugh as Clarke smirked at her from between her parted legs “I hope you know that does not tend to be very effective”

“Mmmh… why don’t you let me be the judge of that, huh?” She winks up and Lexa’s little chuckle is replaced with a moan when Clarke surges to lick her entrance firmly.

Their night- or early morning- goes like that. They do actually clean up with wet towels before Lexa rides Clarke as a prize for eating her out so good. She shows her how experienced she is when she expertly makes her come twice in the same position. The first time she rocks her hips with intent as she never stops massaging Clarke’s breast, rolling her hips sensually and decisively. Letting Clarke pull out and finishing her with her mouth, swallowing her cum again. She cleans Clarke up right after and sinks down easily on Clarke’s soft dick. She gets her hard by just having her inside her pussy and sucking on her tits before she starts to ride herself to an orgasm. They reach it together so she slips Clarke’s hardness out of her cunt and rides her folds on the underside of Clarke’s dick against her stomach, they come together with each other’s names on their lips.

Lexa confessed to riding being her favorite position. How she feels the most comfortable, whatever that’d be fingers, thighs, dildos, dicks or faces, she loved riding. As is tit-for-tat, Clarke told her she was most comfortable when bumping into someone sitting on taller surfaces, so to prove it she railed Lexa -twice- while she sat on top of her dresser. They moved back to the bed and rolled around, pleasuring each other until they were spent and fell asleep partially tangled with each other.

Lexa woke up barely two hours later over the faint sound of her ‘you will absolutely be late if you don’t get up now’ alarm coming from somewhere outside the room. Adrenaline hit her like a rock, and she hurried out of Clarke’s arms and out of her bed to retrieve her phone and clothes from the living room. She dressed quickly and all the same left in a hurry to get to work. She and Raven should really stop their ‘Wednesday-is-practically-Friday’ nights out.

***  Coffee shop,  Present time  ***

“Wait, you what?! You just up and left? You heartless fuck girl!” Raven scowled at her.

“I was late for work!” Lexa complained.

“What a bitch!” Raven booed.

“I left a note!”

“Oh, well then start with that” Raven rolled her eyes “… I didn’t mean to call you heartless” she apologized emotionless.

Lexa rolled her eyes “and a bitch?”

“Nope. No, I did mean that”

“Fuck off” Lexa threw a napkin at Raven’s grinning face with a little smile of her own.

“You love me” Raven threw her a kiss instead “So you left her a note with your number, when do you think she’ll text you or call you?”

“I… didn’t leave my number”

“What?” Raven blinked “But you have… her number… right?”

Lexa pressed her lips together, looked down and shook her head lightly. She regretted not doing so, she didn’t think about it when she hastily scribbled a note before running out. And even though in the morning it felt like the right thing to let Clarke sleep in, she wished she would’ve had a way to see her again.

“I’m… still upset at your stupid decision making, which makes me glad that you won’t see her again but… also… I know you, and looking at your face… When was the last time you had that much fun with someone?”

Lexa sighed, the fact that Raven dropped the sarcasm to speak seriously really told her how much fun she actually had and how disappointed she was right now “I don’t know…”

“Well- I mean if we really think about it, you do know where she lives” Raven shrugged and Lexa lighted up “Which means I can continue to be upset”

“Ugh, Raeee, get over it. I’m getting tests tomorrow, okay? And you’re coming with me”

“Of course I am” Raven rolled her eyes “I can still be upset”

“I thought her size was my free pass”

“Oh it is! That’s why I’m not yelling anymore”

Lexa hummed and shrugged as they finished their afternoon appetizers in silence. It tended to go like this, they would go over every single little detail and then process in silence for a bit, both comfortable with it. Having basically grown up together and both of them being huge nerds, silence was a friend of theirs.

“Can I borrow her?”

“Raven!”

“Oh c’mon, it’s not like we’ve never shared a hook up before!”

“I didn’t know Luna was the-hot-surfer-girl!”

“We still shared!”

“No!”

[bookwyrminspiration]

https://www.nbcdfw.com/news/politics/lone-star-politics/frisco-republican-files-bill-to-ban-social-media-for-minors-require-adults-provide-photo-id/3144903/

Sounds kinda like genocide

(clickable link to the article)

Summary: Jared Patterson, a Texas representative, has filed a bill to ban anyone under the age of 18 from using social media in Texas. It would required photo ID to be on social media sites and allow parents to request their child's account be removed, which is done citing mental health concerns among youth. This is confirmed by multiple other sources.

(warning: non-specific discussion of genocide below. I've quoted the UN definition, but there is nothing graphic)

That is a very heavy word to attribute to this, and one that does not match the situation. Unless there's something you know about the situation that I don't, this is not like genocide.

Here's the United Nation's definition of genocide from Article II of the 1948 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, two years after it was recognized as a crime:

In the present Convention, genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such: - Killing members of the group; - Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; - Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part; - Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group; - Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.

Social media may seen comparable to a group, and its limitation like it's being destroyed, but these events are not one in the same. That is a weighty comparison to make. Should this bill be enacted, there is not a specific national, ethnical, etc. group being killed or seriously harmed or destroyed. We are not that kind of group, and it's limitation is not that kind of destruction. The limitation of social media is not comparable to genocide. It is not the same kind of harm.

This is, instead, social control. It is the formal monitoring and regulation of people's behaviors. And it's being done with an appeal to the children--the "think of the children" argument you see employed when talking about other methods of control that should be enforced. I'm sure that there are other more specific and complex concepts/theories that could be applied to this situation, social control is just the baseline. But genocide is not one of them. You are someone who seems to send asks lightly and doesn't worry over it or think too hard about it, which is perfectly fine, but if you're going to discuss topics like these please be mindful.

To touch on the bill itself, I can't imagine it will go over well within the population. It feels akin to the prohibition, that all this would do is create a thriving illegal network as a work around. I highly doubt minors will go along. That is, if it's enacted.

I'm not the most well versed in politics or political science, so I'm not claiming to be an authority at interpreting and labeling situations like these. But based on what I do know and your comment, I found it important to clarify a few things.

[whippetcrimes]

We went out to our first ever straight racing meet today. I was intending to just talk to people, check things out, and let Misty observe, but she had an opportunity to do a practice run and we took it! This is right after I caught her and got her off to the side, do you think she loved it??

There is the usual plastic bunny I'm familiar with, but there's also a squeaky stuffed animal that makes noise as it bounces along the ground and. This is a dog who is obsessed with the bunny. This thing had her in full crazy mode. I've never seen her run so intently. She is muzzle trained, because I've been wanting to try this someday, but today was her first time running in it. Muzzle? Forgotten. We'll have to go out again and get more box practice, but she's otherwise good to go!

[phoenixyfriend]

[taps microphone and gets in way too close] I actually like S17+ Project Runway more than S1-10.

(S11-15 is... decent. But imo saying that the Siriano seasons are worse than 1-10 is just the nostalgia talking lmao.)

please don't argue with me I'm just here to complain about Popular Opinions I Disagree With

[anomalymon]

I think it's not as simple as being explicitly safe or unsafe. What might be safe for some systems can be unsafe for others.

Our system's dissociation involves depersonalization and derealization and anti-endo communities are not safe for us flat out because of it. That's not even going into our specific origins and how our system came before trauma, which that little fact makes it hard for us to find any PTSD or dissociation spaces because of how DID-centric and anti-endo-centric they can be. We've also noticed anti-endos push that systems need to be a certain way, and that certain way is deeply unhealthy for us.

They're still identifying as anti-endo regardless of how they might act. It's okay to be angry and frustrated towards this. For us, it's very hard to be in a relationship with someone who also thinks we're wrong about either our existence or our history. It's not really acceptance if people go "well you're not like those endogenic systems".

There are being friends with people to deradicalize them too. We are open to talking to anti-endos because I think a large part of why this rhetoric spreads is ignorance (which is not even inherently their fault), but we always do so with a level of caution. It's the same with trying to deradicalize transphobic family members who genuinely don't know better for us. We are on guard to hear something invalidating and we have to front with the headmates who are able to handle that.

It's a complicated thing and I think anti-endo rhetoric as a whole is dangerous even if anti-endos as individuals might not inherently be. Discourse that involves if a person's experiences are real are also never going to be fair for the person defending themselves.

I'd also argue way more endogenic systems are traumatized because of how widespread this rhetoric is than people realize, like being told constantly that you or your history isn't real to the point of people harassing you or sending death threats is something that heavily weighs on the mind, especially if you're in the process of self discovery and at a vulnerable time in your life, but there's way more I can go into on that and this is already a long enough ramble.

Like either way the fact that I exist should not be up for debate and I shouldn't have to be "open minded" to people telling me I'm not real. Even if I might do it anyway, I wouldn't force other systems to do it and I don't even force my headmates to do it because not everyone is able to. As long as you aren't going out of your way to be violent or harass people.

-Domino

I feel like it might be worth reminding everyone that the purpose of a debate is not to convince the other side of your opinion, but to seek an understanding of each other's opinions by listening and challenging the areas of the opinion that you find faulty. The syscourse community has really deviated from that and it's sad to see how unwilling the majority of us are willing to be open minded or have our beliefs challenged.

[livingfast04]

I went to the Metallica Concert in Arlington this past weekend- It was my High School graduation gift from my parents, went to both nights, spent way too much money- Holy fuck man. James calling all of us misfits and fuckups and then welcoming us home?? On the floor, screaming, crying-

[uupiic]

Also when folks are crying that ''they sometimes do tours, just go and see it then!''

Ah yeah, the tour. The ''minimal decorations, minimal line-up, heavily supplemented from local celebs, still cost a small fortune for poor people"? That tour? Thanks, but I'd rather have the proshot DVD :)

But also, we literally went through the pandemic just now. If they don't want DVDs, what about streams then? From the top of the head, don't worry if you don't know these: Feuerschwanz had a proshot show (Die Letzte Schlacht), Schattenmann had a show. Powerwolf had an entire concert movie up (The Monumental Mass). If Saltatio Mortis could hold a LIVE streaming concert (Ein Traum von Freiheit) for thousands online all over Europe (and the world) in 2021, what's stopping broadway or west end from having a streaming service for this sort of thing? Surely, they have a lot more money and other means at their disposal to make it happen than some German folk metal band?

People who honestly think there shouldn’t be a proshot release of theater shows because then people wouldn’t go to the theater anymore are so fucking dumb holy shit how dumb do you have to be did people stop watching footbal games because it also airs on tv? did people stop going to concers because you could get the dvd? holy shit just let poor people have a taste of the thing too god damn it

[joelsgoldrush]

“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind. 

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later. 

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job—a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words. 

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?” 

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out. 

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

 Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. “Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture. 

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them. 

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable. 

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position. 

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes. 

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath—just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know. 

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell.  It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more.  He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration. 

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3