#but sometimes my mom makes me feel bad for that

[amphibianauthor]

This! I was also very very lucky to have similar parenting circumstances. I was raised with parents who treated me as a mini-adult that could be explained choices. I will say one of the requirements for this type of parenting style is to understand that your child might be smarter than you in some areas or ask questions you feel like you should know and you don't. And you should be okay telling your child that you don't know something. That your own ego will be okay if you feel stupid.

Let me explain.

As a child, it was an established rule in my house that no questions are bad questions and my parents would ALWAYS answer questions as accurately (but age appropriate) as possible.* Questions were encouraged. If my parents couldn't answer a question right away they'd say something like "I'll answer once we finish x."

Questions were never a thing to be demonized in my house. Whenever I had questions/feelings, I always felt like I could go to my parents for advice or feedback without judgement. No matter the feelings we were allowed to question everything--from the rules they made, the reasoning behind said rules, why my parents were feeling a certain way, why grandparents might act specific ways, why I was being treated a certain way, I could question it and get an honest, truthful answer back. No passive aggressiveness ever either, No question was ever stupid in their eyes, genuinely. (There are too many teachers who say that exact quote and then give kids judgmental looks for asking things or being like 'well if you were paying attention to xyz')

Now, eventually your kid will ask you questions that might get under your skin or make you feel inferior because you feel like you don't know the answers. The trick is to be excited for them. That they are questioning the world and knowing things that interest them. (We don't get mad at a scientist for being smart in their expertise, those scientists were kids once!)

Like the other responses in this thread, by encouraging questions, I never felt like I was being interrogated when I made a bad choice (I personally didn't make many) because I could explain the reasoning behind it and talk about the reasoning why I chose that action, and what natural consequences might be waiting for me.

Another technique my parents employed was the voluntary 5 minute timeout. Anyone in my family at any moment when they felt upset or angry could announce that they needed a 5 minute break and then go get space to cool down.** (Yes even my parents did this at times, taking a 5 minute break) It was a respected thing, if you asked for space you got it. Sometimes the person would rejoin before the 5 minutes were up having cooled down, but after the 5 minutes people were allowed to check up on you and talk things through if things were wrong.

I can't tell you how useful it is to have an instant timeout button. It allows both parties the ability to recenter back to logic/reasoning if emotions run too high, and feel like you are never backed into a corner emotionally. You always have an out. You are praised/respected for understanding that your emotions might run high. Even with my anxiety I am not scared to ask for a break if I need it because it was modeled for me as a child.

Another one of my parents tricks: Using "I feel" statements. My mom pushed this especially, but the difference between 'you never do x!' (accusing, assuming things about the other person) and 'I feel like you never do x!' (communicating while showing your POV, gives the other person a chance to respond, overall less harsh) is a game changer. It focuses on empathizing with the person (letting them know your feelings and hopefully getting them to understand how you are seeing the world.)

*yes, all questions. I once asked my mom if 5 y/o me would have asked where baby's came from what she would tell me and she said she would literally did the 👉 👌 gesture with explanation of which sex had what body parts. I apparently never asked at that young though

**When I was really young, my parents would do the timeout thing as a 'hey, we see the rollercoaster of emotions is high, why don't you take a 5 minute break for space' and they would keep me in the same room but give me more space/or separate room with many checkups on me.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[pearlymel]

A Slow life

ft. sylus. Just comfort in general, they're married, your honor. mention of kids (they have one boy and twin girls mweheheheh) , tiny bit suggestive but fluff. 1.1k words.

It’s late now.

After a long and exhausting day, Sylus made it up for you by drawing a hot bath, full of bubbles and scents you liked (and a few herbs that would help soothe sore muscles according to Mephisto).

Sitting behind you in the tub, Sylus’ large frame pressed against your back. His chin is resting on the top of your shoulder, with his arms wrapped around you as he holds you against his chest.

And you're fairly relaxed. too relaxed until you remember your little troublemakers, “are the kids back?”

“Mm, they’re back,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face into your neck, “they’ll be asleep by now, it’s pretty late.”

He’s just quietly holding you, enjoying the feeling of your body in his arms, the warm water surrounding you both, and you grab a flower petal that had been floating around you.

“You alright?”

"Yeah, just making sure the twins looked after them, I should thank them somehow," you hum with a soft smile playing on your lips.

“I’m sure they’d appreciate that,” Sylus muses, his hand gently rubbing your side, “I’m happy to hear you say that, though,” he adds while burying his face into your hair.

A hand snaked back up to his hair, "You're a cute dad, you know?"

“Don’t know about that,” he huffs, but the sound is a little more embarrassed than usual, “you’re a great mom, though,” his lips slowly trails over the slope of your shoulder. “Our kids are lucky to have you.”

You finally turn your head around, twisting your slightly sore body so you would be able to face him, and you're careful not to splash the water or precious petals out of the tub.

Your hands finds his face, then your lips follow.

He makes a low noise of surprise, but it quickly morphs into a pleased hum as your lips meet his. He gives a gentle pull at your waist, guiding you to shift until you're straddling his lap.

His hands smooth over your body, large hands roaming down your waist to settle on your hips, holding you snugly in his lap.

"Hey," it's hard not to smile, especially when you know that Sylus is only like this for you.

Sylus chuckles, “hey back,” he murmurs, he still holds you steady, hands moving to your hips to keep you from wobbling, but he also moves a finger to lazily feel the strands of your hair between his fingertips.

"We were supposed to relax."

“You know how hard it is for me to relax while you’re in my lap?” he drawled.

You squint your eyes, "I can feel that, idiot."

“Oh, can you?” He grins, “mm, my apologies,” he sighs almost dramatically, “Guess I can’t help it, sweetie.”

Your pinch his cheeks playfully in return, "behave. we still might have to bake something for the twins."

Sylus’ lips turned down in an almost sulky look. The pinch actually makes him pout, something he would never admit to (that would take away from his big bad onychinus leader image.)

“I’ll behave.” he grumbles, “for now.”

"Be good. For now." you repeat.

Sylus raises an eyebrow, “I’m usually good,” his arms wraps around your waist again when he notices you leaning closer.

Your husband can be silly sometimes.

Your lips are on his skin, lazily whispering, "you bring me comfort."

He huffs a low laugh. but the way he’s holding you, he knows that you can hear the truth in his voice, even though he’s trying to sound sarcastic and witty. He knows that you could feel everytime he comforted you in a way.

He loves being your comfort. Being your safe place.��Your anchor.

"But seriously I..." you rub your cheek against his shoulder, "you're everything."

“Mm,” he hums. likewise, he wanted to whisper.

You blink slowly, and Sylus can already see the telltale signs of your drowsiness, “you’re not allowed to fall asleep in the bath, honey.”

You lift your head up, "would you carry me out if I did?”

“Of course I would. ”

"Dry me? Clothe me comfortably?"

“Clothe you, tuck you into bed,” he hums, leaning back to grab the fluffy, soft towel he had prepared, and he brings it up to gently pat at your skin and hair.

“And get in bed with you,” he adds, his voice turning into a quiet murmur.

"Hold me tight?" you add on sleepily.

“Keep you safe, watch over you,” he carefully tries sitting you up, to carry you out so he could properly dry you.

You yawn, "and the kids..."

“I’d make sure they were okay, too. Then I’d crawl into bed with you, hold you while you slept.”

…

You wake up feeling surprisingly refreshed, and more importantly, well-rested. Sylus made sure you actually did sleep, and he held you through the night, just as he’d promised.

As your senses adjust, you’re first aware of the pleasant warmth seeping into your back. He’s pressed up against you, as close as possible, an arm slung lazily over your waist.

"Sy.." you were about to mumble, but you still listen to how deep in sleep he was, so you let him rest, even sacrificing his arm under your head. what a loving husband.

His breathing is steady and quiet behind you, and every so often—particularly if you start to move—he’ll tighten his hold on your waist, pulling you back snugly against him again.

"Sylus," you whisper, turning around slowly, carefully making sure not to bother him.

That is, until he feels the soft brush of your fingertips against his skin. It’s a barely-there touch, but it’s enough to stir him, he gives a low groan, lips giving a small frown as his half-lidded crimson eyes follow towards your hand.

You giggle quietly, he's so adorable when he frowns in his sleep like that.

“…What are you doing?” He asks with a slight morning rough voice.

"Watching you."

“You know that’s a little weird, right?” He pretends to be annoyed, but if he was fully awake, then you'd see those pink hued cheeks.

"Go back to sleep, honey." you peck his forehead before gently stroking his hair, as if trying to lull him back to sleep.

He’ll deny it, but he loves when you play with his hair.

This is his favorite way to wake up. To open his eyes and find you there, your hand running through his hair, fingers tracing his scalp.

He leans into your touch as he gives another low hum of contentment, the sound vibrating against your neck.

[nottswitch]

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN CANCER

venus in cancer wants a long-term relationship where they can safely build a family. they strive for a deep, heartfelt connection; this placement, once their guards are down, makes for a loving and sentimental partner.

chef!theo nott x reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected p in v, mentions of pregnancy, praise, cursing

nav // event / more

it had always been difficult for theo, though he’d never admit it out loud. how could not not be? running a family restaurant meant seeing it every day – the happy couples, parents eating as their little ones played in the kid’s area… he was known for being focused and dedicated to his work, yet he just couldn’t help it sometimes – his attention strayed, and certain images filled his mind. the images of you pregnant with his baby, you as a mom, putting your child to sleep, so beautiful, so caring… it didn’t help at all that you’d always been vocal about wanting to start a family someday, which only fueled his fantasies and caused very inappropriate reactions in his neat uniform trousers.

and valentine’s day turned out to be an absolute torture – the amount of couples flooding the restaurant was close to diabolical, and theo ended up spending the entire day frustrated and painfully aware of his desires; you hadn’t left his mind even for a second. so, when he came back home from his shift – totally didn’t excuse himself by ‘important family matters’ – he was all over you.

you didn’t mind, oh, not at all. not when his heated body was covering yours so deliciously, your bare skin slick with sweat from close to an hour of endless lovemaking, his cock splitting your open enough to make you moan his name at the top of your exhausted lungs.

"cazzo, so fucking pretty for me," theo breathlessly murmured as he pounded into you, the movements slow but deep, reaching the spot just at your cervix. "wanna fill you up so bad, amore."

your nails dug more into his back at his words, leaving faint red lines all over, the ones he’d make sure to check out in the mirror later.

"please," you whined, struggling to keep your eyes open, yet determined to do it all the same – you were a bit obsessed with the way theo’s ocean blue was gazing at you, with the heady mixture of tenderness and hunger that you knew was reserved only for you.

"oh yeah? please what, baby?" he teased, though his smile was genuine, small but loving. he absolutely loved seeing you like this, all flushed and needy for him, and it made him feel blissed out enough to let his usual composure crumble, his carefully constructed facade fall, demolished by the overwhelming affection he felt towards you.

"please… god– fill me up, baby!" your voice went high, a signal that you wouldn’t last much longer.

"fuck–" theo felt himself grow closer too, his cock throbbing between the warmth of your walls, squeezing him so tightly, sucking him in in just the perfect way. "gonna give you my babies, amore. you want that?"

"yeah," you could only breathe out, ragged and shallow, as theo’s thrusts grew sloppier inside of you. you could tell he was about to cum, and the thought of him filling you up made you moan louder, his name the only thing left in your fucked-out mind.

"you’re gonna be such a good mom." theo sounded strained, as if he was trying to hold back, but it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to very soon. "can’t wait to get you pregnant, amore. so prettily round with my baby…"

an image of you with a big, swollen stomach carrying his child made theo lose it – warm, thick spurts of sperm spilled deep inside, completely coating your walls and seeping out, onto your inner thighs, as he continued thrusting into you, determined to bring you over the edge as well. it didn’t take long – a few more seconds, and you were coming after him, your nails carving scratches into his back. he straightened out, looking down at where your bodies connected, and slowly pulled out. your hole clenched, squeezing his cum out, but he quickly gathered it all with his fingers and pushed them back into your sensitive entrance, causing the muscles of your lower abdomen to contract.

"have to be sure it’s all in, amore. gotta make sure you’re all nice and pregnant real soon, yeah?"

[inthelibrarybtw]

you're gonna go far | three - golf & parties

SERIES MASTERLIST pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: where Rafe who hates pogues has a soft spot for one, who couldn't care less about him, she's too independent and too focused on graduating college and making it out of the Cut to pay attention to him or where they say they don't like each other yet for a reason they are always at the same place at the same time, him making time for her and her never pushing him away but again they don't like each other. word count: 5.2k content: angst! alcohol consumption, cursing, fluff authors note: happy valentines! longest chapter so far and I don't think they are getting shorter. Anyways, thank you for everyone who has been reading, liking, reblogging and commenting. enjoy! <3

He couldn’t stand your cold demeanor towards him for one more second. He was aware he wasn’t your favorite person, but you were never cold to him. Bitchy and a pain in his ass sometimes? Yes, but never cold. You had this warm presence he always claimed to hate, but that was a complete lie. That’s one of the reasons he liked you so much; no matter where you were or what you did, you always made things better, not only for him but for everyone around you. That was also why he felt jealous of how you were with the Pogues, even though he would never admit it out loud. He wanted to be the reason you were smiling, which usually wasn’t how things went, and he was aware it was his fault.  

During the next three days, Rafe avoided going to the Country Club on purpose because he wasn’t sure what was going to happen, and he’d rather not make things worse. He knew you hated him at the moment, so to avoid making things worse, he stayed home. He hated feeling that way; it was as if the thought of you was enough to make his brain short-circuit.  

He groaned for what felt like the millionth time that day. Since three days ago, you had been stuck in his mind. He had been uncharacteristically distracted and quiet; his dad had asked him to pull himself together a couple of times during work meetings and he had barely interacted when he got together with his friends.  

“Dude, what's wrong with you?” Topper asked, pausing the game they were playing.  

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his tone indicating he was anything but fine.

“Right, sure, that’s why you have been moping for the past few days like a little boy who lost his mom at the supermarket, because you’re fine… sure.”  

“Not moping, just a lot on my mind.”  

“Like Pogue girl or wor—?” Topper didn’t finish his question before Rafe cut him off.  

“Shut up,” he bites back.  

“Oh! So it is her, huh? What’s her name again?” Rafe shoots him a glare, and Topper lifts his arms in surrender. “Okay, damn! My bad… why don’t we go to the club? A bit of golf might help.”  

“Can’t, I have to help Sarah prepare things for the party.” Topper looks at him, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.  

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You never help her with anything; it’s her party, let her handle it.” Rafe sighs, annoyed. “Come on, man, to release some stress before the party.”  

He stalled for a bit but sighed, giving in. “Fine… one round, that’s it.”  

“Atta boy, I knew you would come through.”  

No, he didn’t forget you worked there and that he might see you, but he was trying his best not to think about that. They made it to the Country Club; Topper had this mischievous gleam in his eyes. He would be lying if he said he didn’t plan this, all to see if you and Rafe could interact again. He had fun watching his friend stumble over his words, but he also knew Rafe was in a better mood every time he saw you, so at the end of the day, it was for the greater good if he saw you.

They made their way to their first hole. Topper didn’t miss how Rafe looked around, giving subtle, constant glances at the trail as they started playing golf. He was struggling to avoid thinking about you, secretly hoping you would show up in your cart, wearing that uniform that fit you like a glove, and… Topper pulls him out of his thoughts by telling him it’s his turn to hit.

—

After your break, you returned to the golf course, ready to continue your round. After a few minutes, you spotted two guys. You prepared mentally to greet them. Over the years, you had learned how to overcome your shyness, but some days, you felt your skin crawl whenever you had to address a club member. When you got closer, you noticed who they were and sighed. You parked the cart, and Topper’s face immediately changed as he gave Rafe a knowing smirk. Rafe turned around and saw you, straightening up as he noticed you stepping out of the cart.  

"Do you ever go to other places?" You smiled but avoided Rafe’s gaze as best you could.  

"Yes, but we just can’t stay away from here." Topper chuckled softly and then turned to see Rafe, who was unusually quiet. It was as if his tongue didn’t work.  

"Will you buy something today, or will I have to beg for tips?" You asked, lifting a brow.  

"We will buy something today, no need to worry," Topper said. He had been there the last few days, and to your surprise, he was nice, unlike other kooks. You had talked briefly with him a couple of times before and could see yourself being friendly with him, not just because your job required you to be nice to them.  

"And we’ll make sure to tip you well too," Rafe said finally chiming in, making you turn to acknowledge him.  

"Okay, good." Topper noticed how you weren’t smiling at Rafe, and as much as he enjoyed the tension, he was curious about what led to this. Rafe, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at you.  

"So what’s the special today?" Topper spoke up.  

"We don’t have specials," you smiled. "But the Bloody Mary has been a bit popular today. Here’s the menu if you want to see what else we have." You extended the menu to them, and Rafe took it from your hand, doing anything but looking at the menu.  

"Yo Rafe, everything good?" Topper asked, noticing he was a bit distracted all this while trying not to laugh.  

"Yes, I'm just… deciding what I want." You stood there, trying to mind your business, but you stole a few glances at Rafe. He seemed different today, or maybe you were just imagining things.  

"Well, while he decides, I want a Bloody Mary and two shots," Topper requested nicely.  

"Bloody Mary, simple or double?"  

"Simple, don’t want to overdo it." You nodded.  

"I’ll just have a beer," Rafe asked quietly, noticing the familiarity with which you and Topper talked, and he hated every second of it.

“Okay,” you said as you walked to prepare the Bloody Mary and took out the shots and the beer they had asked for. During this whole time, Rafe couldn’t keep his eyes off you, even if he tried his best not to make it obvious.  

“Bloody Mary and shots,” you handed them to Topper, who grabbed them. “And the beer,” you gave it to Rafe, your fingers touching his slightly, sending a jolt through both your arms, but you ignored it.  

“It’s $30 for the Bloody Mary and the shots.” You turned to Topper, who handed you a fifty-dollar bill.  

“Keep the change,” Topper said, taking a sip. “Wow, this is good.”  

“Thanks,” you smiled, putting the bill away. “The beer is $10.” Rafe handed you the bill quietly, his eyes meeting yours; he could swear you had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. You looked away and put the bill away. “No tip this time?” you asked, trying to see if he would bite back. He had been uncharacteristically quiet, and that didn’t sit right with you.  

Rafe smirked. “Oh, you want one?”  

“I did an amazing job giving you that beer. I think I deserve it.” A small smile you couldn’t control formed on your lips. Rafe looked over at you before he dared to speak again. He wanted to make a snarky comment to tease you, but nothing came to mind; he only managed a soft grunt.  

“Yeah, you did a great job.” His voice was slightly strained, but Topper didn’t miss the opportunity to chime in.  

“Come on, Rafe, give her a tip. It’s the least you can do; after all, she’s been an amazing waitress.” Rafe shot him a glare, not finding his comment amusing.  

“I’m not a waitress,” you said, looking at them.  

“Bev cart girl, excuse me.” Topper lifted one hand. “Either way, you’ve been great, and I think Rafe here agrees, right, man?” He nudged Rafe, who just huffed quietly.  

“Yeah, you’ve been… great.” His voice was a bit gruff. He wanted to strangle Topper for making this all harder for him. “You deserve a… nice tip.”  

“There you go,” Topper continued teasing him. “Don’t hold back.” Rafe grabbed his wallet, not without giving another look to Topper, wishing he wasn’t there. Now he didn’t want to look cheap, especially not in front of you. He grabbed a fifty-dollar bill and gave it to you. You widened your eyes.  

“What?” Topper wanted to laugh at your reaction; your cold demeanor with him before was gone in an instant, and your eyes had softened. Rafe was a bit embarrassed, blushing, but it was barely noticeable thanks to the weather.  

“Take it as a…” he paused for a second, looking for the right words. “A token of appreciation… for the good service today and on the other days.” He nodded, knowing what he said sounded very stupid.  

“Uh… this is too much; it’s like five beers. It’s—” Before you could even finish, he shook his head.

“Take it. You deserve it.” But this time, the tone he uses makes you believe his words; he’s not playing, he’s not being an asshole. It was one of those moments where you could maybe see another side of him.  

“Thank you.” You give him a small, honest smile, and he softens at the sight of it, his irritation fading slightly. He smiles back, feeling like his heart might leap out of his chest; it’s genuinely embarrassing for him to feel like this around you.  

“No problem.” His voice comes out softer than usual, and you decide to ignore it, even if it’s noticeable.  

“Well… I should be going.” Topper nods and takes another sip of his Bloody Mary. Rafe, on the other hand, isn’t happy about you having to leave.  

“Wait,” he says, making you turn back to him. Even Topper, who was already walking back to his cart, turns to see what Rafe will do. “Uh… before you go,” he pauses to gather his thoughts, “I have a question.”  

“Yeah, what is it?” you ask, a bit confused about where this is going.  

“Do you work here every day?” He never breaks eye contact with you.  

"I usually don’t work on weekends unless they ask me, and my shifts during the week can vary too."  

“What’s the usual?”  

“Uh… 7 to 3. Sometimes I do overtime, and some days I work just half a shift.”  

“You do overtime today?”  

“No, I get off at 3.” Rafe’s eyes light up at your answer, an idea forming in his mind already.  

“Good. There’s a party at my house today at 7. Why don’t you come?”  

“Oh…” you stutter. This is not how you thought this conversation was going to go. In general, you didn’t know how it was going to go, but this was definitely not it. “I—I don’t think I can make it, but thanks.” You see the way his face drops, and for a second, you feel bad. Then you remember who you are dealing with and shrug it off.  

“Right…” he says, feeling very disappointed about it. You get back into the cart and drive away.  

“Look at you, actually trying this time,” Topper says, patting Rafe’s back.  

“Shut up.” Rafe’s soft demeanor is gone the second you’re not around.  

“Oh, okay, I see how it is. Pogue princess disappears, and you’re grumpy again—okay, okay.”  

“I will knock you out.” Rafe points a finger at Topper.  

“Let’s not do that, or who else will be here to help you with her?”  

“Help? I don’t need help.”  

“From where I was standing, you do need help, or did I imagine her saying no?” Rafe glares at Topper, and he takes a sip of his beer. “Fine… I will shut up.”

—

After your shift is over, Sarah and Kie pick you up from the Country Club and go to Kie’s house to relax. Even though you were probably going to end up going out, it was Friday, so it was a given. Probably another Boneyard party, you thought.

You were lying on Kie’s bed, eating the snacks she had brought while Sarah was talking. You weren’t paying too much attention until she spoke directly to you.

“Earth to Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. Golfers can sometimes be a bit too annoying,” you said, thinking about Rafe. Even though he hadn’t been annoying this time around, there weren’t many other words you would openly use to describe him.

“Well, you will forget about those golfers tonight,” she said a bit too happily.

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t read the group chat,” Kie spoke up and then turned to look at you. “Sarah is having a party tonight at Tannyhill.” You felt your stomach drop; it was the same party Rafe had invited you to, and you had said no because you had plans. You opened your mouth to say something, but Sarah spoke before you could even get a word out.

“No, you can’t say no; it’s mandatory. It’s time for you to unwind!” She wiggled her arms as you stared at her.

“I’m tired, Sarah.” You looked at her and then at Kie, pleading for help. You didn’t want to see Rafe after saying you couldn’t go; it was a choice to see him outside your work hours—a choice you didn’t want to make.

“Sarah is right; you need to unwind. Come on,” Kie nudged you. “You can use my shower if you need to. We can go by your place if you want clothes, but you can use mine; they’ll fit you.” She pointed at her closet.

“You planned this, you evil people,” you pointed at them.

“Maybe, but if not, you were going to say no. And it’s at my house; what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Probably Rafe,” Kie said, almost like she had read your mind. You didn’t say anything.

“He's not going to be a problem; he’s going to be with his friends.”

“Oh yay, Topper and Kelce,” Kie says, rolling her eyes. “They are not the only friends he has, and Kelce is not invited.” At that, you perk up your ears; you want to ask why, but you busy yourself with your phone. “Oh, that’s new. Why?” 

“I said the same. He mentioned something about a fight they had over something he said, but didn’t give me many details, and it’s not like I care… but enough about my brother and his friends. You get ready,” she said, grabbing your shoulders. “And you,” she pointed at Kie, “make sure she gets there,” she said while walking to the door. “See you, my beautiful princesses!”

As Sarah exits Kie’s room, you sigh. “Do I really need to go?” 

“Look, I know you’re done seeing kooks every day, but we can ignore all of them today. Other people are going to the party, so it’s going to be fun. Now come on, let’s get dressed.” 

“I do need to shower first.” 

“Yeah, but first let’s see what you’re going to wear.” She opens her closet and starts taking things out. 

“Hey! This is mine,” I say when I see one of my dresses. 

“Well, look at that,” she jokes. “It’s a sign you need to wear that.” 

“It’s a sign that you robbed my closet.” You grab the mini black dress; it was one of your favorites. 

“Sue me, but this is your sign to use it and take it back to your house.” 

You spend a few more minutes looking at the options she threw at your face, picking what she would wear. After finally deciding, she gives you a towel so you can shower and start getting ready for the party you don’t want to attend. You take your time to shower and get ready, and when you both are set, Kie drives you to your house because you need to give something to your mother, allowing you to leave the things you won’t need and take only your essentials to the party. After that, you pick up the guys and Cleo.

—

When you arrived at the party, it was 7:30 p.m., and the music was blaring from inside. There were more people than you had expected to be there at that time, but again, it was Sarah’s party, so of course, there were going to be many people already there. You planned to stay at the party for a few hours, then say you had to wake up early the next day and leave. However, it was easier said than done.

As you walked inside, the music grew louder, and you saw some familiar faces smiling at you as they looked your way. As you and the Pogues searched for Sarah, you began to feel a bit anxious. You shouldn’t feel bad about saying no to Rafe and then showing up… but then why did you? You finally found her in the kitchen, where the snacks and cold drinks were.

“Y/N!!! You look so pretty!” she exclaimed happily as she hugged you first.

“What are we, chopped liver?” Cleo chimed in teasingly.

“Oh, please don’t say that. I’m happy to see you all here, but let’s be honest: when was the last time this girl actually got ready for something other than work?” Sarah stated again, and everyone silently agreed with her. You rolled your eyes.

“At least I work,” JJ chuckled quietly at your comment.

“Ouch?” Sarah feigned offense. “Enough about work. Grab a drink and make yourselves at home. John B is outside, so go. I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, disappearing again. JJ didn’t need to be told twice to grab a drink and went straight for a beer, and so did Cleo and Pope. Kie made herself a drink, and you did the same, but unlike Kie, yours had barely any alcohol; it was mostly just Sprite.

As you walked out of the kitchen, you caught a glimpse of Topper, who looked at you, scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion. You hurried away quickly, cursing internally. If he saw you, that meant he was going to tell Rafe whether you liked it or not, but just like Kie had told you, you were going to ignore everyone and stick to your friends.

One thing you hadn’t considered or even thought about was that maybe Rafe would be outside. You didn’t see him, but he saw you when you and the Pogues stepped out. His gaze would normally soften when he saw you, but at that moment, he felt betrayed. Did you hate him that much? He didn’t think you were the kind of person who would willingly lie just to make someone feel bad.

—

As the night went on, you focused on your friends and those who came to the group to talk instead of on where you were. Rafe, on the other hand, was drinking to distract himself from your presence. He had noticed you were chatting with a guy who had approached you. You thought this guy was nice, but Rafe didn’t; he would have done something about it but decided to drink instead. 

You caught glimpses of Rafe, each time with a new girl and always with a drink in hand. Why couldn’t he stick to just one girl? You found yourself caring too much about what he was doing and refocused on the guy in front of you. You weren’t really interested, but it was always nice to meet new people.

“Are you trying to burn a hole in the back of her head?” Topper asked when he noticed the intense gaze Rafe had on you. 

“What?” 

“You are staring.” Topper glanced at you too; he had to admit you looked good. 

“You are too.” 

“Don’t drag me into this, but in my defense, she looks really good.” Topper said with a teasing tone, wanting to mess with him. Rafe took a big sip of his drink, feeling the burning sensation slide down his throat. “Woah, slow down.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“I get it; you’re jealous, but don’t take it out on the alcohol. Drink some water, or you will regret it.” 

“I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous of that? He’s…” Rafe trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. He was talking to you, and you were engaged in the conversation. You were interested, which you usually weren’t with him. So yeah, he was jealous. 

He downed the drink in his hand and kept staring at you as if it were his life’s purpose. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way; he had no power over you, but it was as if you held power over him. If you were his girl, he would make sure everyone knew, but you weren’t, so he had to let you be and let you talk to whoever you wanted, even if the guy wasn't good enough. You deserved someone who could give you everything. He could be… he stopped himself; he couldn’t keep thinking about this. So, more alcohol it was.

You went inside the house to grab a new drink and more ice. He saw you, and before his brain fully processed it, he was already following you. He was a man on a mission, though what that mission was, even he didn't know. He heard Topper saying something, but he ignored it; nothing was more important than getting to you. 

When you got to the kitchen, you felt a sense of relief—no one was there. You grabbed more ice and Sprite; you weren't really in the mood for an alcoholic drink. After pouring it into your red cup, you stayed there, and then Rafe showed up, interrupting your party break just like he had done at the Boneyard. You didn’t want to deal with him alone… again. 

Some might say you couldn't move on from what he said and that you resented him. Well, maybe you did, and you hated it because it felt like allowing him to dictate your feelings. Your thoughts were interrupted by his closeness. Oh, he was drunk; his eyes were different, and he seemed more relaxed than usual, but you noticed something was bothering him.

“So…” he cleared his throat. “Weren’t you busy tonight?”  

“I wasn’t going to come; your sister made me,” you answered.  

“Right…” he paused for a second. “Next time, don’t lie to my face,” he said with annoyance. You huffed at his tone.  

“I’m not wasting my time with you.” You turned away from him, not catching his comment.

“No… come on, I want to talk to you.” He stepped in front of you to stop you from leaving; he was set on talking to you.  

“I doubt it. I know I have nothing to talk to you about.”  

“Yes, you do. We have things to talk about.” The way he said it made it easy for you to know what he was referring to, and it made you angry. He had to be drunk to address it for the first time when he had seen you plenty of times before.  

“No, I’m not doing this today; in fact, I'd rather never do it.”  

“Y/N…” he spoke your name almost pleadingly and a bit slurred. “I know I messed up…” he started, but you quickly interrupted him.  

“Stop it.”  

“Let me talk! I’m trying to make things right, and you’re not letting me!”  

“Yes! Because you are drunk, Rafe! And I’m not having this conversation with you like this or ever. For all I know, you’re doing this just because you are drunk or high or both.” He knitted his eyebrows together at your words.  

“What? I’m not high. Who do you think I am?”  

“It’s common knowledge that the only reason you would ever step into the Cut is for drugs from Barry.”  

“According to who? Your pogue friends?” He felt the anger bubbling up, and you huffed.  

“Why do you always have to say it like that?”  

“Like what?”  

“Like you hate them, like you hate us.”  

“Bold statement coming from you,” he said, the alcohol making it harder for him to filter his words.  

“Excuse me?” You asked, genuinely confused at what he was hinting at.  

“Oh, what? Pogue girl get offended? At least I can say it without having to lie.” You scrunched your face; there was one thing you hated more than anything, and that was being called a liar.  

“I have never lied to you. Actually, I think I have been transparent enough to let you know I can’t stand you.”  

“Oh, I got that clear, pogue. You hate me, I know. You lied to prove your point; next time, just have the guts to say it upfront.”  

“What are you on about?”  

“This party! I invited you; I wanted you here, and you said no.” He grabbed a bottle of some liquor and took a swig of it, the burning sensation numbing, for a second, all that he was feeling at the moment. “You said to MY face you were busy and couldn’t come, and look at you here, having the time of your life, laughing with your friends and talking to other guys who don’t even deserve your attention.”

He took another swig from the bottle of what you now know is whiskey. You were confused, perhaps even in denial about his words.  

“I didn’t know!” you huffed. “I didn’t know this was the plan; I was going to go out with my friends, and I didn’t know this was the place.”  

“You want me to believe you didn’t know, huh? Your little nice act won’t work this time.”  

“No, no, I’ve gotten enough shit from you. I won’t put up with this,” you said, walking out of the kitchen. He stopped you in the middle of the hallway. “Rafe, stop it!”  

“No! You aren’t even listening to me!”  

“Why should I? I’m wasting my time here.”  

“Pardon me, your Majesty. I know there are other people more deserving of your attention than me,” his voice dripping with anger and sarcasm.  

“Leave me alone for once!” You pulled your arm away and walked out of the house, not even thinking twice about it. You thought it was over, but you were wrong.  

“Running away again? That’s all you seem to know how to do every time I say something you don’t like.”  

“You’re an even bigger asshole when you’re drunk,” you huffed.  

“Me? You’re the one lying when I’m trying to be nice to you.”  

“Nice? How? Talking down to me and my friends? Making me feel like I don’t belong here?”  

“Not all of us are natural rays of sunshine, princess.” He stopped. “I… It’s hard for some people. I—” he groaned, “I wanted you here! I’m sorry for—” you interrupted him.  

“You’re drunk.”  

“I know what I’m saying! Stop acting like I don’t. I mean this!”  

“No!”  

“STOP, Y/N! JUST… stop.” He sighed and walked closer to you, making you take a step back. 

“I’m trying here… but you’re being an asshole about it, and I’m TRYING to apologize for something I know I did wrong.”  

“You’re drunk…”  

“Stop saying that, as if it makes my words invalid! I know what I’m saying and I mean every word!”  

“I don’t believe them! Is that what you wanted to hear? I don’t believe drunk words; alcohol doesn’t allow you to think straight, and I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” You turned away, ready to walk.

“For someone who claims to always be kind, you are doing a terrible job right now.” You stop in your tracks but don’t look back. “I’m here being honest, and all you do is think the worst of me… you’re just like everyone else…” he said, slurring more as the alcohol finally caught up to him. “I’m actually sorry, princess…” 

You heard the moment he walked back inside, and you finally turned. You watched as he went in and disappeared into his house, leaving you with the silence of the night and your thoughts. Why did he always leave you like this? Always analyzing his words. He sounded sincere; you could feel that, but there were so many layers to the conversation you didn’t want to dissect, yet you knew you were going to.

“You're leaving?” Topper interrupted your thoughts.

“Uh… yeah, I’m tired.” 

“Who is taking you?” No one; you were going to walk. A stupid decision, probably. 

“My friends,” you lied. 'You’re the one lying,' Rafe’s words echoed in your head. 

“Liar, they’re still inside.” You sighed. “Come on, I’ll drop you off. I need to buy more ice, so let’s go.” You didn’t protest and followed him to his car. 

You got in, gave him the address, and he drove in silence. He stopped for a bit of ice at a small store he found when he was closer to the address you provided. 

“Here, it’s okay.” You made him stop beforehand. You didn’t give him the exact address of your house; you were a bit paranoid about sharing it unless it was someone close to you. Topper parked his car right where you told him. 

“Thanks… you didn’t have to do that.” 

“Rafe would’ve killed me if something happened to you.” He paused, debating whether to say something else. “He would’ve done it, but he was too drunk.” 

“Yeah…” you said quietly. “I promise I didn’t know I was going to end up at the party…” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said sincerely. “You don’t owe me or anyone an explanation.” You nodded; you knew that, but it was as if you needed to ensure someone understood. You said your goodbyes and walked to your house, which was just around the corner from where Topper had left you.

You went directly to your room to change clothes. It was supposed to be a good night, and yet here you were, with your feelings all over the place, but mainly feeling guilty.

12:55 AM - Pope “Where are you?”

12:55 AM - Pope “Please tell me you’re alive”

12:55 AM - You “I am, sorry for leaving without saying anything”

12:56 AM - Pope “Still didn’t answer me. Where are you”

12:56 AM - You “I’m home”

12:56 AM - Pope “How? Who? The guy you were talking to?!”

12:57 AM - You “No… Topper… he went to buy ice and dropped me off”

12:57 AM - Pope “Topper? As in Sarah’s ex? tf”

12:57 AM - You “As in Rafe’s friend”

12:57 AM - Pope “Oh…”

12:58 AM - Pope “Something happened again huh?”

12:58 AM - You  “I’m okay, I just need sleep.”

12:58 AM - You  “I’m exhausted, it was a long day”

12:59 AM - Pope “Whatever you need just let me know, fyi I will tell Cleo about this.”

12:59 AM - You “I didn’t expect less”

taglist: @starkeyvhs @oxpogues4lifexo @persiar9 @lenasvoid @angelicameron @purplerose291 @davinashifts333 if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :)

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INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️

FIRST WORDS OF THIS BAD BOY

84 for 🗨️:

---

It all starts because of a call to a senior’s home. 

Well, okay. Buck is sure it all started way before that. But in the immediate sense, it starts because of the senior’s home call. 

There’s a small kitchen fire in one of the units. Someone making stovetop popcorn, who forgot it was on the element. Honestly, it’s nothing the staff couldn’t handle with a fire extinguisher, but the LAFD is automatically flagged when the smoke alarm goes off. The problem is, the whole experience - the alarms, the smoke, the firefighters - triggers a panic attack in a completely different resident. A resident who, according to staff, already struggles with progressing dementia.

Her name is Alva, and when Hen and Chim approach her to try and help, she’s speaking rapid-fire in a language that is completely unfamiliar to Buck. Some flavor of European? 

“Sometimes when she’s stressed, her English regresses,” one of the workers explains. “She didn’t learn it until later in life, so…”

“Harder to retain,” Hen fills in. 

“So how do we communicate with her?” Chim asks. “What language is this?”

“It’s Swedish,” Eddie says. 

They all look at him. Buck did not know he could identify Swedish just by hearing it. 

But then he does something even crazier. Even more out of the realm of what Buck would expect from Eddie. Eddie, his best friend, who he’s supposed to know everything about. He approaches the woman and starts speaking to her. In Swedish. He doesn’t sound totally comfortable with it. It’s slow and awkward on his tongue, compared to hers. But he’s obviously doing a decent enough job, because the woman calms down enough to listen and respond to him. 

The four of them - Buck, Bobby, Hen, and Chim - just sort of gape at this exchange. Did anyone know? Why has this never come up before? 

Eventually, Eddie looks back at them. 

“Alva’s okay,” he says in English. “Doesn’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Thank you so much,” the worker says. “You’re a miracle worker!”

Eddie’s cheeks go a little red. “No trouble, really.”

They give Alva another few minutes to calm down and orient herself before a worker leads her back to her room. Then they all head back to the station. Of course, from the look on Eddie’s face as they leave the senior’s home, he understands he’s about to get grilled.

“So…” Bobby starts when they all sit down in the engine.

“Swedish?” Chim asks. 

“Wouldn’t have put money on that,” Hen adds.

“Why did you tell me?” Buck asks.

Eddie groans. “So I speak a little Swedish. No big deal.”

“Um, it is a big deal,” Buck says. “Because I didn’t know.”

“I’d say more than a little,” Bobby replies. “You really helped that woman, Eddie.”

“I’ve mentioned my mom is Swedish,” Eddie says. 

“Yeah,” Chim says. “But I thought it was, like, one of those things where it’s several generations past and culturally no longer relevant, but the white side of your family liked feeling special?”

Eddie snorts. “No. Like, she immigrated when she was seven.”

“And taught you Swedish?” Hen asks. “That’s cool.”

Buck frowns. Given what he knows about Eddie’s childhood, mother-son language lessons do not sound like they fit. 

“Not exactly,” Eddie says. “I picked some of it up. There’s not much else to say, okay? It came in handy today.”

They all know Eddie enough to know that that means the conversation is over. He’s great at putting up walls quickly. Shutting stuff down. But, although Buck may not know the full linguistic capabilities of his best friend, he does know one thing. Eddie only gets this dismissive because there is more to the story. So Buck will wait. Buck can wait to ask more. But he’s absolutely going to find out. 

🗨️

It’s sort of a sensitive time to be prying into Eddie’s life. Buck knows that. The guy has only been home from El Paso for two weeks. He’s got Chris back. That’s a good thing. But it’s not entirely smooth.

[crookedneighbour20]

this is so real, and honestly so sad that almost every woman has faced some version of this situation. almost 2 years back, my mom had asked me to buy groceries for her. so, i went downstairs in what i had been wearing — a short kurta and short black slacks — not thinking much of it, as firstly, i was very young, and secondly, it was only a matter of minutes. since our usual shop was closed, i went to another one a little further, in a secluded area.

a man sitting there, almost the age of my grandfather was on a video call with someone. after a while, i could feel his eyes on me. i tried to ignore it and simply asked for the groceries i required. the shop was somewhat crowded with customers, so it was taking a little longer than usual. the whole time, i could feel the man's eyes on me, and after some time i was pretty sure his phone was pointed towards me. he wasn't even trying to hide it. as i was only 13, i didn't have the courage to really say anything, but god, i felt so dirty when i came home.

even though it isn't that big of a deal, and not nearly as bad as what many other women have experienced, it is still not something any 13-year old should go through, regardless of their gender. it doesn’t matter what you wear or where you are—some people will still find a way to make you feel unsafe. and that’s simply disgusting. even now, i sometimes think back to that moment and wish i had done something—but at that age, what could i have done?

today, instead of getting in the ladies compartment, i got in the general compartment because there were a lot of other women there too. i didn't think too much of it cuz i was anyways getting off after 2 stations. I was sitting comfortably when a man sat on the seat opposite to me. i was mindlessly scrolling thru my phone when i noticed that the flash went off on his phone, as if he was clicking a picture of me. i looked at him glaringly, not having enough confidence to question or shout at him. he put his phone down. i immediately got off at the next station and took an auto home cuz i was shit scared and was not feeling comfortable at all

this made me realise that no matter how safe we think we are in public spaces, there will always be people who make us feel unsafe. it wasn’t even late, i wasn’t alone, and yet, i felt powerless in that moment. it also made me realize how hard it is to react in such situations - how fear, shock, and self-doubt creep in, stopping us from speaking up immediately. i kept replaying the moment in my head, wondering if i should have confronted him, taken a picture of him, or at least told someone. but in that moment, all i wanted to do was get away

it’s frustrating that women have to be constantly on guard, even in crowded places. that a simple decision - taking a different compartment - can turn into a moment of fear. and that people like him probably get away with it all the time because so many of us freeze or second-guess ourselves. and that’s what scares me the most - not just the men who do this, but the fact that we’ve been conditioned to prioritize escape over confrontation

i don’t know what i’ll do if something like this happens again, but i do know that i don’t want to feel this helpless. maybe next time, i’ll gather the courage to call it out. maybe next time, i won’t let fear win

[loganhowlettshousewife]

okay so feral logan i love him your honor I was just thinking, maybe logan when he's like chapter five-ish(? (like when he's already at peace with both his human and animal side). And idk he gets desperate, and so damn desperate that he's just like feral growling and grabbing and tugging at reader's clothes.

But but with him being actually so desperate so needy that is the reader who ends up taking control in bed and handing him everything he needs in a silver platter. Plain down just feeding him love in a silver spoon typa shit

taking control

animal - bonus headcanons

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

this doesn’t exactly follow your request but i love the idea of reader taking control in bed so... (also i haven’t written in almost a month so this may be bad)

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (m!receiving), unprotected piv, blood, logan’s canon pain kink

series masterlist │my masterlist

logan always takes control in bed. he starts off slow and loving, worshipping every inch of your body until the smell of your arousal is too much to bear and the animal in him takes control. he loses himself to his baser instincts to mate, to breed, to claim.

he’s needy and desperate, taking anything he can get, wanting anything you’re willing to give him. he’s in control, and yet sometimes, while you’re in the throes of passion, you’ll gasp out praise or whimper his name and feel him pause, faltering for a moment, his cock twitching inside you, caught off guard by his desperation to please.

you wonder what would happen if you took control, if you told logan that he had to obey your every command. all he ever wants is to make you feel good, you imagine he’d be so good at following orders.

it’s a thought that’s been running through your mind for days, one that haunts your every thought and yet never comes to pass, escaping you every time logan kisses you with the intention of going further, your brain melting into a puddle, suddenly unable to form coherent thoughts.

you’re dressed in a pretty red slip dress you’d bought specifically for logan reaction, waiting for the sound of the shower turning off, anticipating his arrival into your shared bedroom, warm and naked, hair damp and curling slightly, perfect and beautiful and yours.

you meet his eyes as he walks into the room, his eyes darkening in an obvious display of lust as they trail over your figure. you smile, pleased, as he rushes towards you, dropping his towel in his haste, trapping you in his arms and kissing you deeply.

you melt into the kiss, into the beautiful familiarity of his arms and his scent, into the warmth of his hands on your body. he lets his hands roam and explore your body as if it's both the first and last time he’ll ever have the opportunity, palming at your breasts, flicking his thumb over your nipples, leaving a trail of fiery heat with every brush of his skin against yours.

it’s nearly impossible to pull away, but you manage just enough to mutter the words into the shared air between you, your lips so close to his that they brush as you speak.

“i want to try something,” you say, hesitant, nerves and arousal and excitement mixing into a heady cocktail of sensations, “let me take control tonight.”

logan hesitates, and so you rise onto your knees on the mattress, running your hands over his shoulders and down his broad back, staring into his eyes as you plead gently, “i want to take care of you. you always make me feel so good and i want to return the favour. please?”

you know exactly what you’re doing to him, lowering your voice, giving him your best bedroom eyes, pleading. he hates to say no to you. he won’t say no to you.

logan’s agreement isn’t verbal, rather it comes in the form of his easy compliance as you switch positions. within moments you’re straddling him, grinding down against his hard cock as you mouth wet kisses on his neck and trailing down his chest, biting and sucking at the skin to leave marks. they won’t last and you both know it - you can already see his skin returning to its usual golden colour - and you wish not for the first time that he could keep them, to think of you every time he looks in the mirror, reminded of your adoration.

you reach his happy trail and shift your attention to his thighs, kissing around his cock but never touching it. it’s flushed red, tip leaking, begging for your attention. logan groans, fighting against the urge to grab you, clawing the sheets instead.

“fuck,” he groans, “please- need you.”

finally, you take him into your mouth, savouring the heady weight of him on your tongue. you take your time worshiping his cock, taking him as far as you can and using your hand to jerk off the remaining length of him. you bob your head up and down, twirling your tongue around the tip and catching on his slit.

he’s breathless, low sounds escaping his throat every time you take him deeper, swallowing around his cock. it’s unlike the rough growls he lets out when he’s fucking you, his voice a deep rumble uttering your name like a prayer, animalistic and wild and with an edge that would terrify you if you didn’t know him so well. he’s needy, almost submissive.

“fuck, darlin’, i’m close,” logan warns, and you pull off when you feel him start to twitch on your tongue.

“not yet,” you reply, a rough edge to your voice from the strain of taking him. he’s big enough to make blowjobs a challenge, but one that you enjoy, leaving your throat thoroughly wrecked afterwards. 

you climb onto his lap once more, kissing him, letting him push all of his restless energy into something, his hands finding purchase on your waist as his tongue explores your mouth, tugging you down so that you grind against him.

“help me take this off,” you tell him, tugging at the fabric. he wastes no time, his claws releasing with a sharp sknt, and in mere moments the pretty lingerie you’d bought is destroyed, pushed off your body and thrown aside by logan’s desperate hands. it doesn’t matter - you’d bought it knowing that logan would likely ruin it.

the sharp metal of his claws brushes against your stomach, the cold making you gasp. he starts to pull away but you grab a hold of his wrist, bringing his hand up to your lips to kiss the divots between his knuckles where metal meets skin.

you grab logan’s cock, lining it up with your entrance, slowly sinking down on him. it’s always a challenge to take logan, even with your pussy dripping, slick with arousal. he stretches you out perfectly and for a moment you forget that you’re supposed to be in control, letting him control the pace as he pulls out and thrusts back into you, gentle as you adjust to the size of him.

you give him a warning look, pushing his hips down to stop their movement. logan could easily overpower you and continue, but he obeys, albeit grudgingly, letting you set the pace as you ride him.

the sight of him underneath you is heavenly, and you understand now why he can’t seem to control himself when your positions are reversed. 

it doesn’t take long for the both of you to lose yourselves to pleasure, your pace losing its rhythm, logan shallowly thrusting up into you, unable to hold himself back from chasing after the feeling. he can’t seem to form words, communicating his pleasure through animalistic growling and grunting, noises similar to the ones he’d made when you’d first met him and he lacked the capacity to speak.

you know what he needs, and though the position is slightly awkward, you lean forward to lick and suck at his neck, prepping the skin before biting down hard enough to draw blood. the warm, tangy taste of iron fills your mouth as logan cries out, pumping his cum deep inside you as you keep up the pace, your own orgasm so close you can taste it.

lazily, logan brings one hand to rub circles on your clit, providing the exact pressure you need to have you clenching around him as you come.

you collapse onto his chest in the aftermath, enjoying the feel of his sweat-slick skin against yours. you press your fingers over the bite mark you’d made on his neck, pouting at the way it’s already begun to fade, his skin stitching itself back together.

“it takes much more energy when you’re the one doing all the work,” you say, breathless, waiting for your heart rate to slow and stabilise.

he hums, “but you looked good on top of me.”

you laugh, pressing your face into his chest, stifling the sounds with his skin. he runs his hands over your back, lingering on the curve of your ass. it’s intimate without being inherently sexual, appreciative without necessarily pushing for more.

“does that mean you liked it?” you ask after a few more moments of basking in the comfort of his embrace.

“i think i’d like anything as long as it’s with you,” he says, a vulnerable declaration for only the two of you to know, one that squirrels its way into your heart and hides behind your ribs along with every other lovely confession logan has made to you.

“i think i need more practice, so i can figure out how to work around your strength and hold you down,” it’s a throwaway comment, you’re spent and comfortable and used to being able to speak your mind around logan.

his grip on your ass tightens, squeezing the flesh, and his cock stirs where it's trapped between your bodies. his lack of refractory period still occasionally catches you off guard, as it does now, and you gasp at his obvious interest pressing into your stomach.

“think you have the energy for that practice now?”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666 @a-leg-without-fear

[rizzy-reads]

For context I have taken my cat to a vet multiple times for this and there is no health issue. I'm very slowly testing litter box options to see if there are any that stop her from doing this. And also she used to be a feral cat.

[randomalistic]

Wait you guys are actually buying Disney products I thought it was a joke

(READ TAGS FOR FULL CONTEXT Sorry it’s long dies

[sciderman]

How was the movie?

I LOVE SPIDER-MAN

I LOVE BEING A SPIDER-MAN FAN

I LOVE BEING REWARDED FOR BEING A SPIDER-MAN FAN

[megatraven]

got into a fight with my mom yippeeee

[poseidonsworst]

i was wondering why i feel so shaky, lightheaded, and weak, so i hydrated, checked the weather, and then looked back at my digestion diary for the day

huh. yep, that'd do it!

[rivenantiqnerd]

i hate when my parents tell me i dont need to put as much effort into homework assignments because “the stress isnt worth such a small amount of points”

and then because i dont put 100% effort into it i only get 89% and my parents go “a B??! Whats wrong, are you okay?”

bc im supposed to be soo smart

[spookykestrel]

The problem with not having your mom close anymore is that when things are going wrong in your life, everyone stops at just saying they're sorry and no one asks how they can help there's only so much a sad face text can do when the real cure is a hug or someone bringing you ice cream or just asking you to come over for a movie yk?

[halogalopaghost]

[serenity-the-firefly]

i’ve expended an enormous amount of physical and emotional energy over the last two days on very little sleep (spent 10 hours straight at work setting up a display + a meeting, got home at 9:30 and then stayed up until 5:30 working on a dress for a wedding, then got up at 10 and helped set up/attend/clean up said wedding until 9) and instead of feeling particularly tired my body’s decided to manifest all my exhaustion and stress as intense insecurity and the feeling that my mother doesn’t actually like me