#and you tell me that if i have a fucking kid their life will suck

[samw1se]

I was born blind in my left eye. It never got fixed. Many of these points are true in my experience, except I still have an eyeball. Here are some additional fun facts from my realm of experience:

-my elementary school knew I was blind in one eye but did not tell my parents. I started to get a little farsighted in the 4th grade so I went to get readers and the eye doctor told me, a nine year old girl, that my life was forever fucked and I’d never be fully independent, never drive, never go to college, because I was disabled and it was too late to fix it. We got a second opinion. And then a third.

- (you can try to fix my kind of blindness up until about the age of five because the brain is still really elastic and capable of fixing the broken shit. They fix it by putting a patch over your good eye to force your bad eye to see. They tried it when I was nine but it was too late, so I essentially spent a year having my life ruined by being suddenly completely blind all the time and it sucked ass.)

- you make a great marksman and baseball batter once you figure out how your lack of depth perception works. Not a great outfielder though.

- things sometimes just kind of vanish on you. I got a massive concussion as a kid from running into a pole head on. The pole had been there as long as I could remember. I interacted with the pole every day. But one day I was running and the last thing I remember is thinking, hey, where did the pole go? Like the equipment holding it up was still there but the pole just seemed gone. This also happened several times to me when trying to catch pop flies or headbutt soccer balls. They’d just go away.

- people will indeed forget all the time and throw shit at you from the blind side and hit you in the head, or hug you and scare the shit out of you. A boy asked me out once after he hit me with a frisbee on my blind side.

- and then some people will always think of you when they encounter one eyed things. When I was an RA in college, some of my residents were so very pleased to bring me a one-eyed goldfish they’d found in the feeder tank at the pet store 😩 we named him one eyed Willy and he lived for like five years and survived two cross country trips in a car (in a Nalgene bottle both ways)

- I don’t have a traditional lazy eye (my eyeball can see but there is no connection between it and my brain so the message goes unrecieved) so I don’t really have much of a wandering eye, unlike other folks with amblyopia. I can also only cross my good eye, I cannot wink with my good eye without moving my entire face (and I had to learn how to do this by pushing my cheek and forehead muscles together with my hands until I could do it on my own so I look very stupid) and my good eye also tends to have trouble when looking at blue light for too long since it gets all the strain.

-additionally, the only times my eye seems to look lazy is in the occasional picture. I call it my googly eye.

- re writing advice: I took a writing class in college where we spent a lot of time journaling about our own bodies and then writing stories with what we had learned… my wonderful teacher guessed that I was blind in my left eye because of how I described things. I never used left or right when talking about objects being around characters’ bodies, only front and back. She fucked me up with that one.

- I get a lot of bruises on my left arm because I struggle with depth perception when walking around corners/doors on that side

- they gave me glasses as a kid to try to fix it after patching didn’t work (leading to the discovery that I don’t have a traditional lazy eye) and the left side was the biggest and thickest fucking lens you’ve ever seen and the right side was just normal glass no rx. It made the glasses sit crooked on my face so I stopped wearing them.

- they test you for amblyopia during your drivers license test and I cheated both times I’ve had to go take it 🙃 they put a ball on one lens and a box on the other and they ask if the ball is inside or outside the box and I didn’t see no goddamn ball but the man next to me said it was inside so I did too.

- if I hadn’t cheated, I could still get a license, just with a special note on it, which i didn’t know both times I cheated.

- and yes, cannot agree more with being a safe ass driver. People get frustrated because I follow so far behind other cars and give people so much room all the time but I have a clean ass driving record.

- following that, I have a hard time sitting in the front seat when someone else is driving, especially if they are tailgaters because I feel like I am always about to crash. My husband, a notorious tailgater, says I have an invisible break I hit whenever he’s too close to someone.

- my parents made me go to a chiropractor as a kid to see if the reasoning for my blindness was a pinched nerve. It did not work.

- a redditor once told me he would end himself if he were ‘as cursed as’ me because the idea of being blind in one eye was so insanely distasteful to him. I tried explaining to him that it’s literally the only life I’ve ever known and he kept trying to tell me it was disgusting and unnatural and I lived a hideous life. I was like, dude. Go to therapy.

- if you are blind in one eye but still have an eyeball, you have one fun fact for Two Truths and a Lie always directly on hand and no one will ever guess that’s a truth.

- I am especially clumsy, and sometimes when I get up to do something and start knocking shit down, my husband plays the Godzilla theme song in his phone and it always makes me die laughing.

- when my parents found out, they demanded to know why I didn’t tell them, and I had to explain to them that it was literally all I’ve ever known, how did I know it was wrong? I thought everyone could only see one side of their nose.

Sorry this got long. I can’t sleep lol.

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[whats-the-word-again]

An INTENSE reading with Lord Ares

Me: hmmmm, I wanna add to my worship of Lord Ares; I wanna do something a bit bigger this time... A digital Shrine!! (NOT a temple, I have neither the expertise or authority for that) Yeah that's a great idea! Better check with him first before I do though.

Me: [gets out my tarot deck, sets up a small offering and invites Ares into my space, thinking this will be a chill, short reading.]

Cards: lol wtf you actually suck why are you talking to me? You literally do everything wrong in life, you're so fucked.

Me: ????? Lord Ares????

Ares: Not me.

*Proceeds to pull the Tower and a MYRIAD of just Bad cards*

Me: [freaking out]- hello?? who is this and how can I make this up to you? What did I do wrong??

Me: Yknow what, lets start afresh..

[I ask for Lord Ares and Lord Ares ONLY to enter my space.]

Ares: I'm here! But not for long...

Me: ??

Ares: You don't need me anymore, it's time to let go...

Me: ??? I very clearly still need you- I don't want you to go :(( what?? what is going on?? please?? why are you being so ominous? is this a goodbye??

do my attachment issues show?

Ares: I'm just kidding lol. You should have seen your face.

Me: :0

Ares: This is your problem; you gotta stop jumping to conclusions. You need to take time to think things over. It's okay to get all the facts before believing anyting.

Me: ah.... so uh, did you want the E-Shrine then? (trying to get back on topic)

Ares: Really think about it, think it over. Organize it properly before you do anything, prepare it, don't have it just all over the place. And if after all that you still want to make it, then yes, you can go for it.

*He knows I make rash decisions that I struggle to commit to easily*

Me: Okay. so uh, was that you being mad at me earlier too?

Ares: Huh? No. I had nothing to do with that. But I think you know who it was.

Me: Lady Aphrodite... (for context [TW]; shes been trying to help me through one of my self-destructive behaviours and recently I kept telling her that I'd work on it but then I never did :/)

Ares: Yep.

*Insert me asking if I can post this ✨experience✨ to tumblr and he said yeah.*

Me: Any other message for me before I close up?

Ares: Reiterates that it was just a joke beforehand and that he's still here with me

Ares: I'm still here. I'm still here for you and I love you.

Me: What? :O

Ares: It's okay, you can say it back.

Me: I love you too Lord Ares. Thank you for your time :D

Overall experience? Most stressful reading I've ever had. Was it productive? Sure. Efficient? No.

30+ cards pulled 😢 (I lost track after 20 tbh)

I was exhausted after to say the least :,)

dividers made by @ vibeswithrenai

CLARIFYING - PLS READ !!

All of this is my reading and interpretation of the cards as well as intense gut feelings. This is just how I have interpreted the conversation; I cannot (sadly) hear or see the gods. I can slightly feel their presence, but I only have the thoughts and the feelings that come to me.

the casual language used is simply me, again, interpreting it into easier to convey language.

Lady Aphrodite was not actually threatening me or angry at me. You cannot GENUINELY anger the gods that easily. She was just, as Lord Ares was, trying to send me a message in a way that would catch my attention and that I'd listen

the 'I love you' exchange at the end is !NOT ROMANTIC!. whilst I do not have a problem with godspousing, i am a MINOR, Lord Ares knows this of course. Although I don't think I'd label it as a fatherly 'I love you', it is 100% NOT ROMANTIC or sexual or any kind. I am a minor.

[boneyspades]

I'm not that well known that this'll be really seen but I've been thinking about this for like A WHILE-

since I'm a musician and I'm doing a music related course in uni and since the SaSi hyper fixation has me in a chokehold it got me thinking...

THE SIDES IF THEY WERE IN A BAND (or were musical artists idk)

use these for Ur band Aus or something idk

also I'm thinking of making a part 2 of like side duos and what types of songs they'd make if they collab'd so lemme know if U want that

Roman

bro would definitely would be on the vocals Ong

he'd probably know many classical instruments like violin or a flute (this is more cus of aesthetic purposes)

he'd be a PAIN to work with in the studio ngl

his way or no way, and if it's not his way he has a tanty

during sound checks or tuning other instruments he'd just riff obnoxiously (everyone would tell him to shut the fuck up)

as a solo artist he'd probably make theater like songs or just some girly pop songs

Sabrina Carpenter is his inspo (used to be Beyonce but uh..... I think we know why that isn't the case anymore)

would probably be a good person to ask for lyrics

would practice his thank you speech for Grammys even if he's not even nominated

Logan

ngl he'd be the one behind the mixing desk

if not he'd probably know piano/keys or bass since he's not the type of to be over the top (no one pays attention to the bass which SUCKS CMON GUYS-)

more fascinated on the production side of music

he's the one setting up the equipment since everyone else is "too stupid" to help (maybe besides virgil but we'll get to him soon)

by the end of a sesh he has a headache cus he has to get Roman and Remus to STOP FUCKING SCREAMING OMFG-

soloing he'd probably make lo-fi chill music to study to or something like Pink Floyd or maybe even some Radiohead songs or Billie Eilish songs

he'd research certain topics for lyrics.

WORD ASSOCIATION GAME AH RAPPING (think One Week by Barenaked Ladies)

Virgil

(ok I'm really excited to do this one since virgil and I r really similar)

bro SLAYYYYYYS the electric guitar and bass but is too nervous to really admit it or really play in front of others

has probably had many panic attacks after messing up alot (which tbh same)

helps Logan with setting up equipment (he's the only one that Logan actually trusts with it)

also knows drums??? (I'm also a drummer and he's literally me let me live my life)

DISTORTION PEDALSSSSS

virgil: "I dunno if I can do this guys like really I'm not that good I should just lea-"

patton probably: "Awh, c'mon Virgil! you got this! it's gonna be ok!

Virgil: "well i-if you say so..."

*proceeds to absolutely shred TF out of the guitar*

knows how to do vocal fry screams (metal screams) and does it alot

Remus and virgil Collab ALOT since they're kinda similar in taste

by himself he'd make emo music or any type of like emo rockish song which honestly I think is a surprise to no one

dream collaborator is Gerard way

many many stickers on his guitar

Patton

honestly doesn't really care what instrument he gets he just wants to have fun

vocals and rhythm guitar most of the time whilst virgil has lead (he's gotta let his bestie have his spotlight)

always brings snacks to the studio even tho Logan always tells him not to (he wants the studio to be nice and neat)

wants to Collab with EVERYONE (besides the obvious bad ones ofc)

if the songs they're making as a band are slow and melancholy in the slightest, the water works will start FLOWINNNG ONG

soloing he'd make kids songs or just songs that r just obnoxiously happy or marketable (or something that sounds like the Beatles)

would also write sad songs when he needs to express his feelings, thanks to virgil for giving him advice

always asking the other sides to Collab and make acoustic covers of songs (especially with Janus, virgil and Roman)

Remus

(again, excited for this one cus he my fav and also were similar)

oh god no.

hed be on drums (twinning:3) but would also know guitar

GOD HELP U IF UR EVER IN A ROOM WITH REMUS AND THERES ANY INSTRUMENT IN SAID ROOM

he is trying to make everyone annoyed by just making the LOUDEST amount of noises (He's slamming his arms on the piano rabidly, he's putting the guitar amps on full and playing all strings as hard as he can, etc)

bro hits the drums H A R D

has probably broken a kick drum a few times(it's a wheel spin on who he has pay for it between Logan, Janus and Patton)

BANNED from using the production equipment for obvious reasons.

messes with the equipment anyways

the BEST at metal vocals (taught Virgil how to do it)

sings songs but replaces the lyrics with inappropriate words

twinning with Roman, when the others r trying to sound check or tune their instruments, he's SCREAMING IN THE MICS LIKE A LUNATIC

soloing, he's either making the type of metal where the vocals r just screaming vocals where no one knows what he's saying (maybe like death metal???), the most cuntiest sex songs like Aisha erotica or just songs that sound like "I staple tapeworms on my penis" (I kid U not this is a real song, here it is for reference↓)

virgil and Remus Collab alot (I said this before but i can't help but think they're besties)

Janus

bro would be the KING of jazz in the mindscape

he'd probably do vocals, saxophone, violin, cello and keys/piano

always comes to the session late. its all about him so everyone else doesn't matter.

if one of the other sides can't make it for some reason, Janus would take their place (tho realistically all of the sides CAN mimic eachother, I feel like Janus does it better than the others since he practices ALOT more)

also messes with the equipment but doesn't go as elaborate as Remus, he just does the simple and subtle things

fights with Roman ALOT about the stupidest of things

kinda an asshole to work with depending on who U r

Logan: "hey, Janus can you just move the mic further away from you please?"

Janus: "of course.." *proceeds to purposely move the mic closer to himself just to fuck with Logan*

soloing, he'd make songs like frank Sinatra or Peggy Lee or something, just very jazzy bluesy type things.

likes to Collab with Patton but won't ever admit it (as you can tell I loved the into the unknown vid)

will ALWAYS supply the wine mostly for him and Logan cus they fucking need it-

and C!Thomas is just the manager if Logan isn't it already

and that's it idk

[fanghearted]

fuck you Josh. if you see this go kys

[seitmai]

“On my polaroid,” Bob explained. “To have while I’m gone.” You smiled softly.  “Yeah,” you agreed. “That’s okay.” His expression perked up. He gave you a soft kiss.  “Thank you, sweetheart,” Bob drawled, his accent sweet.

Urgh this was just such a soft and trusting conversation 🥰

“What do you want me to do, sir?” You asked. You wanted Bob to take charge of this. Not just because the pictures were for him, but because you were nervous. You were ovulating. You had been casually trying with Bob. The two of you had stopped using condoms, but you had started tracking your cycle. You were ready. You hadn’t told Bob. He wanted kids too, you had stopped using protection on purpose, but you were nervous about it. 

No risk no fun as they say 🤭

“Smile for me, honey,” Bob called. The absurdity of the context pulled a giggle from you and the camera flashed again. He looked down at you thoughtfully, planning out his next masterpiece. He smirked when his idea came. 

Oh he's having the time of his life 😌

“That’s my good girl,” Bob cooed as you sucked on his finger. The camera flashed again. He slowly drew his hand away from your mouth. He slid his hand to rest on your throat. The pressure was firm, but not restricting. The camera flashed again. His hands kept moving down to your breasts, squeezing them in a way that would leave bruises in the morning as the camera flashed once more. 

There is something so hot about knowing there are some lustful bruises in places where no one gets to see them 😮‍💨

“I know, baby,” Bob cooed in understanding. “I promise that I’ll give you everything you want, but you have to be patient.” Something in his tone was different. He knew what you really wanted from him. He knew you wanted him to make you a mother.  

He knows 😮‍💨

“Fuck! Bobby!” You cried out in pleasure. The camera flashed. Your walls pulsated around Bob’s fingers and your legs shook. You arched your back away from the mattress. The camera flashed. You opened your eyes to see Bob’s adoring stare as he flashed the camera once more on your sweaty, fucked out face. 

🥵🥵🥵

“I know, baby,” he cooed. “Me too.” You moaned softly. Bob had gotten himself in position to take another picture. He had his thick cock in his hand, lined up perfectly with your wet slit. He held the camera in his other hand. His eyes flicked up to yours. “Ready?” He asked. You nodded quickly. Bob pushed his cock into you. The camera flashed several times—some photos on your face or your body, and a few at the spot where you were connected. 

I just live checking in even in auch a moment of lust and passion, so hot 🤤

You came without warning, but kept your moans in. You weren’t supposed to come without asking. Bob kept fucking into you and you thought you’d gotten away with it when you came again. You were doing your best to keep your breathing even and not pass out as you recovered. Then Bob switched arms and pulled your other leg around his hip as well. You knew that you were going to squirt this time. 

Oh he knows hat he is doing 🥵

“You’re so pretty when you come, baby girl,” Bob drawled. His accent was thicker when he used the low tone that he would pull during sex. He knew how much it drove you crazy. “How many times was that? Be honest, I know you came at least once without telling me.” 

Not the thick accent 😮‍💨

“All you had to do was ask, baby,” Bob said with a smile. He began fucking you again, faster this time. If you wanted his cum he was going to give it to you. You clawed at his back and he left hickies over your chest and neck. Bob reached down between your bodies to rub circles over your clit. You moaned loudly. 

I'm melting 🫠

“I’m not done, sweetheart. If we want you to get pregnant I should probably give you more than one load.” You whimpered at the thought alone. Bob could already feel himself getting hard again. He rubbed your clit slowly, making you clench and flex around him. It was just what he needed to make him rock hard again. You moaned at the feeling of him hardening inside you. 

Already a dad that goes the extra mile 🤭

“Want to see?” Bob asked. You nodded as you scooted over to his side. The two of you looked through the photos, Bob complimenting something about you in each one. When you got to the photo you had taken of him you grinned widely. 

🥰🥰🥰

“Could you write me notes on them? Like you do with my lunches?” Bob asked shyly. You grinned at him, leaning to kiss him gleefully. You pulled away with a smile still on your face. He always told you how much he loved the notes you put in his lunch everyday. 

Urgh that is just the cutest 🥹🥰 and the perfect balance after such filth 🤭

flashes

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, nude photos, fingering, m receiving oral, breeding, p in v, dacryphilia, squirting, minor degradation, minor praise, creampie,

summary: you buy a special set of lingerie when you know you're ovulating and Bob asks if he can take pictures of you while you fuck.

word count: 3.2k

“Can I take pictures of you?” 

Bob’s question surprised you. You had sent him nudes before, and it wasn’t like he had never seen photos of you, but he had never taken any himself. You did look good. His jaw had literally dropped when he saw you. You bought a special lingerie set to wear that night. It wasn’t too fancy, but it was Bob’s favorite shade of blue and it was made of a thin mesh material that left little to the imagination.

“You want to take pictures of me?” You questioned. 

“On my polaroid,” Bob explained. “To have while I’m gone.” You smiled softly. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. “That’s okay.” His expression perked up. He gave you a soft kiss. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Bob drawled, his accent sweet. He scrambled from his place on the edge of the bed. You had instructed him to wait there while you made your grand entrance from the bathroom after changing into your lingerie set. He fished his polaroid camera out of its place in the closet and loaded it up with a new set of film.

“What do you want me to do, sir?” You asked. You wanted Bob to take charge of this. Not just because the pictures were for him, but because you were nervous. You were ovulating. You had been casually trying with Bob. The two of you had stopped using condoms, but you had started tracking your cycle. You were ready. You hadn’t told Bob. He wanted kids too, you had stopped using protection on purpose, but you were nervous about it. 

“Could you get on your knees for me?” Bob asked. You smirked as you fell to your knees in front of him. You reached for his belt, carefully unbuckling it and shoving his pants down his legs. He was already rock hard, the idea of photographing you had been enough to wind him up. You spit on your hand and then wrapped your fingers around his cock. He moaned softly. You leaned down and gave his tip a few kitten licks, cleaning up the precum that was leaking out of him. 

“Look up at me,” Bob called. “Stick your tongue out.” You turned your eyes up towards Bob to find he was pointing the camera down at you. He took his cock in his free hand and pressed it down against your tongue before the camera flashed. Bob dropped the photo on the bedside table, where a stack of them would soon sit. While he was distracted you let his cock push down your throat. He gasped in surprise, knees nearly giving out beneath him. 

“Jesus, honey,” Bob groaned. You hummed in satisfaction around him, pleased that you had caught him off guard. He was good at teasing you, and you always had to find your own ways to get back at him. 

Bob turned his focus back down to you as you deepthroated his thick cock. He pulled your hair back into a makeshift ponytail so he could see you as your lips moved up and down his shaft. He groaned as he gently guided you up and down, keeping the control mostly in your hands. 

“Look up,” Bob called. You flicked your eyes up to see the lens of the camera facing you. You gave your best innocent doe eyes as the camera flashed again. He pulled you off his cock, tossing the picture with the other. 

“What next, Robby?” You asked as you licked your lips. He lifted you to your feet and pulled you in for a kiss. 

“I want to get some of you in this pretty little thing you bought for me, sweetheart,” Bob told you cheekily. “Lay on the bed.” You quickly followed his instruction, climbing onto the bed and laying out on your back. You spread your hair around your head and adjusted the lingerie set. Bob was crouched on his knees, looming above you as he pointed the camera down at your body. 

“Smile for me, honey,” Bob called. The absurdity of the context pulled a giggle from you and the camera flashed again. He looked down at you thoughtfully, planning out his next masterpiece. He smirked when his idea came. 

“Spread your legs for me,” Bob requested. “Squeeze those pretty tits I love so much.” You moaned softly at the idea. He was really indulging himself. You followed his instructions and the camera flashed again. 

Bob kneeled over your hips so he could reach you better. He pushed his thumb down against your tongue. You closed your lips around it, letting your tongue slide against it. 

“That’s my good girl,” Bob cooed as you sucked on his finger. The camera flashed again. He slowly drew his hand away from your mouth. He slid his hand to rest on your throat. The pressure was firm, but not restricting. The camera flashed again. His hands kept moving down to your breasts, squeezing them in a way that would leave bruises in the morning as the camera flashed once more. 

“I want your bra off,” Bob told you. You leaned up from the mattress and pulled the fabric off, leaving you nearly bare in front of him. He grabbed your tits, thumb rubbing over your nipples  briefly. He sunk his fingers around your round breast and flashed the camera again. 

“Can I have your cock now, sir?” You begged. Bob smirked. 

“No,” Bob said. “I want some pictures with my fingers inside your pretty little pussy first.” You sighed in disapproval. 

“Hurry up then,” you whined. He chuckled. 

“Be patient,” Bob told you. “I want to take my time with you.” As much as you were desperate for Bob’s cock you couldn’t help the small whimper that his words pulled from you. “Can you lift your legs up for me?” He requested. You smiled softly at him as you lifted your legs into the air so he could remove your panties. He tossed them off the side of the bed. 

Bob looked down at your bare cunt, glistening with your arousal for him. He put the camera down and used both hands to stroke up and down your thighs. His touch was featherlight, drawing goosebumps to your skin. 

“Robby…” You whispered needily. 

“I know, baby,” Bob cooed in understanding. “I promise that I’ll give you everything you want, but you have to be patient.” Something in his tone was different. He knew what you really wanted from him. He knew you wanted him to make you a mother.  

“Please just touch my pussy, Robby,” you begged. “However you want. I don’t care. I just need to feel you there.” Bob smiled. He moved a single finger to your clit, gently rubbing circles around it to appease you. The moment Bob’s finger made contact with your clit your back arched in the air and your mouth fell open in a silent moan. 

“Open your eyes,” Bob ordered. When you did the camera flashed on your face. 

“Are you ready for a finger?” He asked. 

“Can I have two?” You pleaded. Bob considered your request. You were being good for him and you were letting him live out this fantasy. 

“Okay, honey,” Bob agreed. “Two it is.” He sucked his ring and middle fingers between his lips, coating them in his spit. “Ready?” He asked as he aimed the camera towards your dripping twat. You nodded furiously. 

“Please,” you begged. “I need you.” Bob smirked. You needed him. Wasn’t that sweet?

“I’ve got you, baby.” No sooner did you feel Bob’s fingertips gently sliding through your folds. You inhaled sharply, waiting for him to give you what you wanted. He was filled with a wave of pride at the small sound. It made him desperate to give you what you wanted. He pushed his fingers into you, his movement quick enough to relieve your desire without being harsh. The camera flashed.

“Thank you, Robby,” You mewled.

“You’re welcome, honey,” Bob cooed back. He kept a steady rhythm inside you as he snapped another picture of your cunt with his fingers buried in it. “You’re so sexy, sweetheart,” Bob groaned as he felt you clench down on his fingers. 

“I want your cock, Robby,” you whined. 

“Come on my fingers first,” Bob pleaded with you. He put the camera down and reached down with his other hand to rub tight circles around your clit with his thumb. You moaned in surprise and kicked your legs against the mattress. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Bob cooed. “Come for me.” He hooked his fingers against your walls, pressing into your g spot as he sped up his movements on your clit. 

“Fuck! Bobby!” You cried out in pleasure. The camera flashed. Your walls pulsated around Bob’s fingers and your legs shook. You arched your back away from the mattress. The camera flashed. You opened your eyes to see Bob’s adoring stare as he flashed the camera once more on your sweaty, fucked out face. 

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” Bob murmured. Tears sprung to your eyes despite his sweet praise. 

“Your cock, Robby,” you whined. “Need your cock, please.” You sniffled as you fell into a state of total desperation for only one thing. Bob’s eyes softened upon seeing your tears. He quickly reached up to wipe them away. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Bob whispered softly. He crawled up your body, bringing the camera with him. “Didn’t realize just how bad you needed me.” He lined the swollen head of his cock up with your dripping hole. 

“Always need you this bad, Robby,” you whimpered. Bob kissed your nose softly. 

“I know, baby,” he cooed. “Me too.” You moaned softly. Bob had gotten himself in position to take another picture. He had his thick cock in his hand, lined up perfectly with your wet slit. He held the camera in his other hand. His eyes flicked up to yours. “Ready?” He asked. You nodded quickly. Bob pushed his cock into you. The camera flashed several times—some photos on your face or your body, and a few at the spot where you were connected. 

“Ohh, Robert…” You moaned slowly as you felt him fill the emptiness that you’d needed him to fill. Bob cursed quietly. You looked up at him. He was beautiful, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and his body tight around you. 

“Can I take a picture of you?” You asked. Bob smirked. 

“Yeah, honey,” he agreed. “You can take one.” He handed you the camera. You pointed it up at him and reached up, dragging your nails down his chest as the camera flashed. You handed him the camera and the undeveloped photo. 

“Thank you, Bobby.” Bob put the camera  and photo to the side and turned his focus fully on you. He leaned down on his forearm so he could kiss your neck as his hips fucked slowly into you. He grabbed your leg with his other hand, pulling it up around his hip so he could get just a bit deeper. 

You came without warning, but kept your moans in. You weren’t supposed to come without asking. Bob kept fucking into you and you thought you’d gotten away with it when you came again. You were doing your best to keep your breathing even and not pass out as you recovered. Then Bob switched arms and pulled your other leg around his hip as well. You knew that you were going to squirt this time. 

“Can I come?” You cried out suddenly, unsure whether you’d be able to hold it anyway. 

“Yes, baby,” Bob agreed. You let the electric pleasure run over you, whimpering and whining as you did. Bob wore a proud grin as he watched your face contorting in pleasure and felt you clench down on his hard cock. Clear fluid sprayed out over his cock. Bob reached down and rubbed back and forth on your clit, splashing your cum all over the sheets. You were panting as Bob stilled his hips, still buried inside you. 

“You’re so pretty when you come, baby girl,” Bob drawled. His accent was thicker when he used the low tone that he would pull during sex. He knew how much it drove you crazy. “How many times was that? Be honest, I know you came at least once without telling me.” 

“Including when you fingered me?” You asked shyly. 

“Yes, sweetheart,” Bob replied. 

“Four,” you told him quietly, awaiting your punishment for the two unpermitted orgasms.

“Why are you so horny today, huh?” Bob asked. You looked away. You knew exactly why. It was why you’d bought the lingerie. Bob wanting to take pictures had been a surprising bonus. “Answer me,” Bob pushed. 

“I’m ovulating,” you admitted in a whisper. Bob groaned roughly. He made one quick and deep thrust into you, pulling a surprised gasp from you. 

“You want me to get you pregnant, baby?” Bob asked, his voice as slow and smooth as molasses. You nodded. “Tell me, honey. Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you to get me pregnant, Robby,” you told him. “I want you to fuck your cum deep into me.” 

“All you had to do was ask, baby,” Bob said with a smile. He began fucking you again, faster this time. If you wanted his cum he was going to give it to you. You clawed at his back and he left hickies over your chest and neck. Bob reached down between your bodies to rub circles over your clit. You moaned loudly. 

“Can I please come?” You begged. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Bob told you. You fell apart on Bob’s cock, tightening down on him as he thrust into you. He moaned loudly, making a few harsh thrusts into you before you felt him coming deep into you. He kept fucking into you as he rode out his orgasm. You were slowly coming down. He leaned back onto his knees so he was upright and grabbed your hips. He lifted you and pulled you down against him, getting deeper than you had ever felt him before. The new sensation threw you into another unexpected orgasm and you cried out in pleasure, milking Bob’s cock for everything he could give you. 

“Thank you, Robby,” you whimpered. Bob chuckled.

“I’m not done, sweetheart. If we want you to get pregnant I should probably give you more than one load.” You whimpered at the thought alone. Bob could already feel himself getting hard again. He rubbed your clit slowly, making you clench and flex around him. It was just what he needed to make him rock hard again. You moaned at the feeling of him hardening inside you. 

“Give it to me, Robby,” you whined. Bob didn’t need any other words of encouragement to begin fucking into you. He started off with a steady pace–not too fast, but not slow either. You were falling apart regardless, completely unable to hold in orgasms anymore as you lost yourself in the pleasure of Bob’s cock. He hit just the right spot and you felt the tightness in your stomach exploding again.

“Are you coming again?” 

“Yes, Robby,” you gasped. “I’m–ungh–I’m sorry. I can’t h-help it,” you whined. 

“Pathetic little thing, aren’t you?” Bob taunted. The degradation only made you come harder. His dog tags were dangling over you as he thrust in and out. You reached up and twisted the chain around your finger, tugging him down to meet your lips. He kissed you with a passion that reminded you of the very first time you kissed. His thrusts were getting more irregular as you continued pulsing around him. He reached down to your clit, desperate to pull one last orgasm from you. He rubbed against the sensitive nub, lubricated by his own cum leaking out around his cock. 

You screamed out in overwhelming pleasure and came again. Fire burned through your body as every part of your body tightened and then snapped into a release. You were moaning loudly, not really aware of the sounds that were coming out of your mouth. You started squirting again, the fluid spraying out around Bob’s cock as he continued to fuck into you. He groaned loudly at the sight. Bob grunted, gasping loudly before hammering harshly into you with a deafening moan as he emptied everything he had into you. Bob rolled off of you after a moment. The two of you lay there, quietly catching your breath as the two of you each recovered from the strongest orgasms either of you had ever had. 

“How many times was that for you, sweetheart?” Bob asked after a moment. 

“Eight, I think,” you admitted. 

“Jesus,” Bob said. “I hope the pregnancy hormones are this good too.” 

“You came so much, Robby. I can feel it inside me,” you murmured. “It’s so warm.” 

“Will you push it out for me, baby? Will you show me what I gave you?” Bob requested. He leaned up and grabbed the camera. 

“That’s not gonna help me get pregnant,” you said. 

“I’ll push it back into you, baby. Besides, I fucked my first load real deep into you,” he said. 

“You’re so dirty, Robby,” you teased. Bob smiled. He kissed your thigh. 

“Please, baby?” You rolled your eyes but smiled. You clenched your insides, trying to push out the thick cumload Bob had given you. Suddenly you felt the warm liquid dripping down your folds. “Fucking hell, honey.” He took one last picture. He scooped his cum back up onto his fingers, pushing it back into you again. He crawled up the bed to be level with you, putting the camera on the bedside table and picking up the stack of photos. 

“Want to see?” Bob asked. You nodded as you scooted over to his side. The two of you looked through the photos, Bob complimenting something about you in each one. When you got to the photo you had taken of him you grinned widely. 

“You look so sexy, Bobby,” you said. Bob chuckled. 

“Glad you think so, honey,” he said. You bumped your arm against him. 

“You’re an adonis, Bobby. Completely out of my league,” you said with a smile. Bob rolled his eyes. 

“Honey, I’m in a squad with adonises, but I ain’t one,” Bob joked. 

“Oh, please. None of them even compare to you. You had me wrapped around your finger the moment I saw your eyes,” you said in reflex. Bob could tell you meant it by how quickly you said it. 

“I love you, baby,” he said simply. You looked up at him and kissed him gently. 

“I love you too.” Bob turned back to the photos. 

“Could you write me notes on them? Like you do with my lunches?” Bob asked shyly. You grinned at him, leaning to kiss him gleefully. You pulled away with a smile still on your face. He always told you how much he loved the notes you put in his lunch everyday. 

“Yes,” you said simply. “Do you want them to be sexy or sweet?” You asked. Bob smiled softly. 

“Both, just like you.” Bob flipped to the picture of his cum dripping out of your pussy. He hummed softly at it. “I sorta wish I could’ve had one with my cum on your face too,” he said. You smirked. 

“I think I can make that happen.”

[rqg179]

i will say though that brennan revealing last episode that kipperlilly has been going to guidance counsellor for anger issues since freshman year has absolutely ruined me for seeing her as actually evil. i cannot believe that a teenage girl with anger issues is irredeemably evil i just can't

[dbphantom]

Hate having adhd went to go work on my fallout modpack, got distracted while going to disable the steam overlay, ended up in the points shop, went to go edit my profile, decided to change my pfp, found a buried folder I forgot existed, found some old Veneer art I forgot existed, spent 45 minutes looking at all the old photos, STILL HAVE NOT TOGGLED ONE SIMPLE OPTION THAT SHOULD'VE TAKEN 30 SECONDS AT MOST

[auntiejohn]

if I was prime minister I would make last laugh by ceechynaa the national anthem and then I would make fredos 10p

[rosesradio]

i think my university fucking bit me wtf

[im2tired4usernames]

My parents should be fuckin ashamed

[dichotomy-of-your-girlfriend]

I can't tell what here is snarky/sarcastic and what is an actual point so sorry if I accidentally misinterpret.

1. The person I was taking shots at for kinning him was a whole ass 25 y/o. I think we should be able to understand why that's wrong and off putting. A kid might not understand the weight and importance of not separating rape from his character, and say it because he's grumpy, and deadpan, and struggles with responsibility, poor self esteem, tends to pedestal, feels like they have to do everything (crazy he did 5 things over several months tho hmm.)

2. Jimmy is not a reminder of my own capability for evil. He's a reminder of the time I got SAd awesome!! People aren't scared he's a reflection of themselves. Actually, people just tend to hate rapists. Just because there isn't nuance doesn't mean there's not depth to his character. I have picked him apart and listened to other people pick him apart and there are things I also relate too In there! He is amazingly written, and the gameplay makes you uncover all of this over time and you start to shift your opinion and idea of what's happening and it's great and super cool and really well done which is why I hate him. Bc he sucks. And the did an awesome job writing a guy who sucks.

Complexity ≠ redeemability

3. "And this fear gives birth to the vehement denial of anything human in jimmy. Because If you gave him some thought, you may discover something deeply unpleasant about yourself."

Whar that we're all secret rapists?? Or something?? People don't hate him bc they look at him in a 2 dimensional way. The point is you can look at him as deep as you fucking want and he's still awful. He is human and complex and also he sucks really bad and I hate him. Again I could give you the list of things I relate to, and honestly he might be the character that resonated most with me. But my bar for likability is rape but you do you. I am so past the point in my life where I'm anything other than angry and unmoving about this as a victim. You can pull the fictional character card which has weight for sure. I think it's the REASON we get to pick him apart and talk about him as an individual because there's no real Anya. She'd take priority in that case and we wouldn't do anythjng but try to send jimmy to prison. But we don't have too because real people aren't in danger of fictional grease man jimmy. but real people feel this story really close to their heart and it's dangerous to get comfortable In the rhetoric that it's simple minded and unfair to hate him without fully examining him. Especially in fandom spaces that could influence how young people form their perception of sexual assault and criminals and if they're victims that could really fuck em up honestly. And it's not fair to police victims out of the fandom either because thjs is ultimately a story that we resonate with. And it's comforting. And it's an outlet to use jimmy as a punching bag too it's nice to see unapologetic bullying of this not real guy as somebody who never got justice.

I unapologetically hate him. And I do am off put when people like him. But not ljme we should never talk abt him or male funny videos with him or fanart where hes in it hate him like. Im not that dumb.

But it's weird to me that you had to make this entire thing about how you don't hate jimmy because you can read into all the details and fully understand his character and we're all just too simple and dumb do have done that bc WE fEAr oUr HUmaNjTy and the morally grey nature of life blah blah.

Maybe the rest of us also enjoy character analysis and looking into every nook and cranny of his being... and maybe for the rest of us the bar is rape. You're not intrinsically evil for liking him no. But I will probably go ew what and feel really nasty about it.

Appreciating his character ≠ liking him. I was talking aboht people who made jimmy their little blorbo or whatever. If tbst wasn't clear sorry bc that was the intent so I just basically read your thing as in defense of jimmy simps. Pls don't blorbo the rapist lol.

I've seen some "I low key like Jimmy like I hate what he did but I like his character" posts already and.

If that's you, this game is a commentary on people like you, and you don't even realise it. It's about how he and his actions can't be separated. If you really think he's well written or whatever the hell, appreciate the amazing job the devs did by hating him.

[redriverstyx]

turns out i have fasd (fabulous amazing silly disorder) 👍

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

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

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

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

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

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

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

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

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

Allison:

bitch 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah… that you knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

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

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me neither.”

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

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

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

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

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

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

(But you aren’t.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck had just happened?

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

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

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

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

Your savior complex strikes again!

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

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

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

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

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

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

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

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

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

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

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

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

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

You could die at peace.

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

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

“Now why would you think that?”

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

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

“You don’t have to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I beg to differ.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should I give you some space?”

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

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

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

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

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

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

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

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

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Careful.”

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

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

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

“Get your hands off her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

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

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

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

“I don’t have a phone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

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

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

“Right here? On the counter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“L-logan–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who had given him a damn script for this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

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

[our-lady-of-mcr]

.

[youaremysunshine-court]

God fucked up somewhere letting literally anyone have a kid

[did-we-imagine]

God bless.

My dad found it funny that I'd still watch cartoons even as a 23-25 yo lmao. I just told him that my doctor friend (MD) who is 2 years older also does lmao. Life be like that. I just own my shit. There are married 25 yos with kids, and then there is me, and that's OK lol.

"oh you think that liking animated kids movies as an adult is cringe? don't you know some people are AUTISTIC" you know you can just like a movie, right? why are u wrangling a completely reasonable defense of your taste into mental health advocacy?? it doesn't fit