#continuing to be really normal about this movie

[peachiejeongin]

Jealousy | Lee Know

Synopsis: You and Lee Know have been best friends for as long as time can tell; however, a third party has ignited an unfamiliar negativity in him, and he is finally ready to handle it himself.

Pairing: jealous! dom!LK x fem!reader (Reader has breasts and a vagina, and uses she/her pronouns !)

Genre: Smut, a bit of Angst, Fluff towards the ending

Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content (18+), marking, breast-play (sort of), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (please use protection my loves!), pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby, etc.), Minho is extremely jealous and possessive, Minho quite literally answers the phone during sex [As always, please inform me if I missed anything!]

Word Count: 9k

Notice: Hello, my darlings! I have missed you all dearly! I recently acquired a bit of inspiration to get back into writing, so enjoy a Lee Know smut drabble I wrote a while back :)

Smut under the cut!

"Hey, I feel like we're getting off topic again," Minho bluntly states, cutting you off in the middle of your chatter. You glanced at him, your mouth slightly agape from the abrupt interruption. "You do remember that hanging out today was your idea, right?"

Of course, you remembered it was your idea; after all, you had made the plans last minute, just that morning. You invited Minho over for a movie and a catch-up night, since you hadn't seen him in a few days. You expected a normal evening with him; however, hanging out felt strange. In fact, it had felt unusual ever since a certain third party had entered the picture.

You had recently started talking to another guy and had unintentionally began spending more time with him than with Lee Know. As of late, though, this new guy seemed to be distancing himself from you; he would often go days, or even up to a week, without speaking to you. Then, he would reappear in your life as if nothing had happened, claiming to have been, "busy."

Your best friend saw right through the guy's facade; he knew the guy was only seeking attention from you, and he was not tolerating it. Despite Minho's clear disapproval, it seemed as if the guy consumed much of your conversations lately; in fact, Minho interjected as you were once again delving into another tangent about the guy's behavior. It had become a predictable cycle: the guy would reappear after ghosting, make plans, and vanish again. Frankly, Lee Know was growing tired of it.

"Yeah, I know hanging out was my idea. Why wouldn't I remember that?" you questioned, a confused expression present amongst your features.

Minho scoffed. "Because it's not feeling like it," he said. You raised one eyebrow, urging him to explain further. "I understand you want advice and my personal input on what's going on with this potential guy, and I can help you out with whatever as your friend..." He paused briefly, letting out a deep sigh as he continued, "I'm trying really hard not to be a jerk about this, but I really thought today wasn't going to revolve around this again."

"Min, I get where you're coming from, but I feel like you're making it seem like I've been talking about this guy non-stop, which I haven't." Upon your response, Minho could not stop himself from narrowing his eyes and chuckling coldly.

"Literally, since I brought you that water, you have not stopped talking about him."

"Yes, I have! I've talked about so many other things, and-"

"When?" he promptly cuts you off again, his voice raising slightly. "I mean, seriously? When I first came over, you were all like, 'Hey, I need your opinion. Can you look at this for a sec?'" Lee Know mirrored your prior actions by shoving his phone in your face.

What had you shoved in Lee Know's face exactly? A message from the guy stating, "Sorry, I've been busy." The date on the message read 8:41P.M., not even thirty minutes ago. The last message you had sent, on the contrary, read Monday, November 18th.

Over a week ago.

You wanted Minho's honest opinion; after all, he was your only friend that would give you the truth instead of what you wanted to hear. Thus, the truth he gave: "How many times do I have to tell you this guy is not worth it?"

And so, you find yourself connecting the dots on previous events.

"I may have asked for your opinion, but I didn't shove my phone in your face," you argue, pushing his phone away by instinct. You were becoming increasingly annoyed at his behavior.

"Yeah, you did," he retaliated, retracting his phone. "You shoved your phone in my face just like that." You opened your mouth to counter; however, no sound came out. All thoughts on how to go against him had completely dissipated from your mind. You closed your agape jaw in defeat and stared grimly at the floor. Lee Know rolled his eyes harshly.

"I told you last time, and I'll tell you again, it means he's not worth your time. This guy is clearly only trying to hit you up when it's convenient for him, and you know that, too."

Minho's grievances mirrored but also contrasted your own. Of course, he was agitated with your behavior, but the hinderance came from a divergent perspective; he knew you were smarter than this, you had to be. There was absolutely no way you could not see the clear convenience you were to this guy. Minho could not tell if you were intently playing dumb in order to lessen the blame or if you were simply blind sighted by this guy.

Either way, he was fed up.

You could not wrap your head around the guy's actions, however. Just the other night, the two of you had went on a date that went pleasantly well. How was he able to change up so quickly?

You made mention of your thoughts aloud: "But...the last date we went on..."

"What about it?" Minho sat up and threw his hands sharply to his sides in a vexed manner. He leaned back on his palms, his eyebrows furrowed as he awaited your response.

"It just...It went really well is all..." You shrugged and folded your arms over your torso. You tapped your foot against the hardwood floor as you apprehensively glanced up at Minho. He had taken off his glasses and was rubbing his temples.

He put his glasses back on, took a deep inhale, and cupped his hands in your direction.

"So what if the date went really well, Y/N? That doesn't excuse what he's been doing. He's basically ghosted you for an entire week, and it's been, what? Three times now?" Minho's acute words stung. You knew he was right, but it was still taking you time you wrap your head around one aspect:

Why?

"I get that things aren't official yet," he continued, snapping you out of your thoughts, "but you have to see that this guy is-"

"I just don't understand why, Min," you interrupted him this time. "What even is going to happen after this?" He narrowed his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"Look, i really don't want to be your counselor again," Lee Know shook his head while chuckling out of aggravation. "But, obviously, he's gonna try to make up every excuse and try to act sweet when he finally responds."

"What if he really has been busy, though?" you desperately reply, attempting to convince yourself more than anything. Minho did not shoot a glance at you this time, the annoyance clear on his sunk in expression.

"Look," he stated directly in attempts to get you to listen. "It might be more acceptable if you two were going into this potential relationship expecting it to be a casual kind of thing, y'know, with no strings attached. But, that's not what you've been telling me, and he knows exactly what this is supposed to be. He's the one that's not respecting your time, or my time for that matter because I constantly have to listen to what a piece this guy sounds like."

"He...He hasn't been acting like there's no strings attached! Just the other day, he-" You huffed in efforts to tell Minho about how the guy denied another girl's number at the arcade on the last date, even going so far as to call you "his girl." Once again, however, Minho interjected.

"You are really starting to annoy me." his words cut; they were honest, yet brutal. "There is no way you are this stupid, y/n. Come on: not responding for weeks at a time? Love bombing when he does respond? That's acting like no strings attached." You considered Lee Know's words for a brief moment. Upon this, you finally had a realization:

"Maybe...Maybe he's not worth it anymore."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Minho responded with a chuckle mixed of disbelief and humor. "Get rid of him; you would be doing us both a favor that way."

You nodded in sorrow, staring down at your phone. Despite the comment you had made, part of you was still hoping you would look at your lock screen and there would be a text message from him.

"So, you're not going to talk to him anymore. Deal?" Minho ponders, snapping you out of your train of thought.

"No. No, I'm not going to talk to him anymore." You set your phone down on your lap, your foot still tapping nervously.

"So, we're done with this?" he follows up with a second question.

"I don't know, Min," you admit, causing Minho to intake a rough breath. "I mean, I still can't comprehend it. He's so sweet and caring, and he's really good in-"

"No, I don't wanna hear about it, y/n!" Minho finally snaps, managing to keep his voice stern but calm.

"What? Why? I thought you were supposed to be here for me?" you ask, once again hurt by his words.

"I am here for you, but I don't like hearing about these guys you're seeing," Minho growled, his voice tinged with frustration. "I just really do not need to know about all of that, okay? Just put it down, and let's not talk about this anymore."

"Okay, okay. Fine. What do you wanna talk about?" You finally look up at Minho, your eyes sunk in and arms crossed with defeat.

"Well, I was thinking," he began, his voice a lot more gentle, "that we could talk about, and this is just a wild idea, but something related to us instead?" He accentuated his words with a few lighthearted chuckles.

"Hm, yeah. Did you have something specific in mind?" you inquired, your demeanor beginning to soften but your eyes still narrowed in slight frustration.

"I did have something. I actually already had this in mind before you got me offtopic earlier," he teased briefly, "but I was thinking since we both have some time off next week, we should go out and eat somewhere!" Minho's eyes seemed to beaming as bright as his smile; he took pride in the fact that he was able to deter your attention back to him, back to where it was supposed to be, he thought. He missed you dreadfully, and the suggestion of going out to dinner had been plaguing his mind since he walked through your front door.

"Oh yeah?" you asked rhetorically. "What place did you have in mind?" You returned his grin with a soft, half smile of your own. You could not deny you had missed spending time with him has well; however, the thoughts of your admirer still clouded your better judgement. Unintentionally, you began to stare off into space as Lee Know began his reply.

"There's been this one new place that I've been wanting to try. I think it would be nice," Lee Know explained as he began to describe the new traditional restaurant that had just opened up not even a couple of blocks away from your apartment. Lee Know ended his description with a cheeky, "Plus, I feel like you kind of owe me one anyways." This statement snapped you out of your endless distraction. You turned your head in his direction quickly, your eyebrows furrowed and a slight frown present on your face, replacing the half-smile that was just present.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you interrogated, your tone coming off more accusatory than attended. Minho raised a teasing eyebrow to accompany his ever-present smile, which now had morphed into more of a smirk; he was slightly taken aback by your sudden yet slight outburst.

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he responded unequivocally, nodding his head with each accentuation of the sentence. "I'm just saying that you've been so busy with your new guy that we haven't had a chance to hang out lately. Remember last week? When you flaked on me...twice?" Minho's smile had slightly faded, his demeanor becoming solumn in contrast to the previous cheeky behavior.

You did remember essentially leaving Minho in the dust last week, although you did not want to. You and Minho had planned a night together, similar to the one you were having at this moment; however, on the night of the planned venture, the new guy had messaged you out of the blue and asked if you wanted to grab dinner with him that night. All reason had fled from your mind at that moment as you texted back, 'Yes!' without thinking twice about your plans for the night. It was not until Minho had began to blow up your cellphone with messages such as, 'Where are you?' 'y/n, i'm at your apartment,' and 'hello? what the hell?!' when you remembered. You quickly replied, explaining what had happened and that you would be home soon in a desperate attempt to please both parties, yet your response was met with, 'Don't bother. I'm going home.'

With this failed endeavor, you and Minho had attempted to reschedule your arrangements for the next night; thankfully, Minho had the whole week off from schedules, and it was your fall break from classes. You had made a slight adjustment to visit the cinema rather than a move night at your apartment. Yet, this attempt succeeded just as much as the first did, and it went about the same way; it was as if the guy had some sort of radar detecting the days you and Minho had planned to hang out so he could steal you away.

As you dreadfully remembered the events of the prior week, you scoffed and refused to give up your stern standpoint on the matter.

"You sound jealous, y'know that?" was the response your anger-stricken brain formulated. You had stated it without thinking, honestly, and you instantly regretted it once Minho leaned back on the couch, his arms crossing and his mouth slightly agape in pure vexation.

"I sound what?" he inquired stiffly, his dark brown eyes staring daggers into your gaze. "Jealous?" he repeated the word as if he could not believe the statement, which to some degree he could not. He followed up the repitition with a couple of brutal snickers as he shook his head in disbelief. His stare had now found its way boring holes into the wall beside him. "Very funny. I'm not jealous," he claimed as if he was trying to convince himself of the matter rather than you. He shifted his gaze towards the floor as he continued, "I just think you should follow through when we make plans."

"You know we can always reschedule," you responded somberly as you glanced out of the window to your right in order to avoid eye contact with Minho.

"Yeah, you can reschedule, but you ended up cancelling that too," Minho fixed his eyes upon you, specifically how you were still refusing to look at him. You knew the truth to his words, which only made the guilt to felt ten times worse; still, you refused to let your guard down, responding to his truth with a skeptical head shake. You rolled your eyes as you did so, and you shifted your gaze to side eye the male.

"Do you not hear yourself? You are jealous, otherwise you wouldn't be speaking like this, or bringing up last week!" There was no denying your rage at this moment; you were tired of Minho bringing up your faults, especially when it was in relation to this guy. Minho's tongue prodded at his cheek and his vacant expression darkened. There was a brief silence as Minho contemplated what to say in order to get his point across and not sound like a total jerk.

"Okay," he started, "now, you're just imagining things. I'm not jealous." You chuckled slightly, turning your gaze back to focus on the rain pittering against the windows outside.

"Sure," you replied quite coldly with a strained, sarcastic smirk plastered upon your face. Minho frustratedly breathed in and took a slight glance towards the ceiling.

"Fine," he threw his hands up slightly, "y'know what? Forget it. Let's just drop this." He attempted to change the topic of conversation, both because he was tired of talking about his feelings, but also because there was a minuscule aspect of him that knew you were correct. "But, if you happen have time to allocate next week, is that a yes or a no on the restaurant thing?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. Minho was JUST on your case, and now he is bringing the subject of the restaurant.

He is so jealous, you thought.

That was not what came out of your mouth, however. Instead, you sighed as a way to release the lingering tidbits of bottled-up anger you felt and responded with a simple question: "What did you say the name of the place was again?" Minho paused for a moment in an attempt to remember the answer to your question.

"Uh, I don't remember the exact name, but it opened up right next to the theatre," Minho did his best to recollect the traditional restaurant, but could only remember its location.

"Is it that one new silverish building with all of the fairy lights hanged near the entrance?" you inquired genuinely, your body beginning to relax from the intensity of aforementioned events. Minho nodded slightly, finally feeling a sense of relief that you were endulging in a conversation unrelated to the guy.

"Yeah, yeah, that building. The name was, uh," Minho attempted to recall the name of the restaurant once again, and partially succeeded, "Great...something." You laughed at his inable memory, causing him to eye you up and down in a playful manner. "Listen, I had the name in my head for the entire day!"

"Likely story! Where'd it go then?" you asked him cheekily, leaning in a bit closer to him on the couch as if to accentuate your question. Lee Know moved away from you in sarcastic disgust as he returned your giggles.

"I don't know! For some reason, it's just on the tip of my tongue right now," Minho returned to his normal sitting position as he racked his brain for the name of the restaurant.

"Is it...is it 'Great Bake?'" you asked as you recalled seeing a grey building that matched the description of the restaurant. Minho looked at you, confusion etched all over his face.

"No, that's a cookie shop!" Minho chortled at your futile attempt at recollecting. "Plus, that place has been there for years now. But I mean, we can go there if you want." You tilted your head at the suggestion before slowly shaking it.

"No thanks. I'd rather go for a meal than for cookies. They make my stomach ache," you rubbed your stomach as you stated the last part in order to adorn your words with comicality.

"Are you sure?" Minho asked you genuinely. "Because I don't mind going for desert after. Or we could go for Boba afterwards if you prefer."

"Nah," you politely declined his offers. "I think the meal will be enough for me."

"You sure?" Minho inquired once more. "It can be my treat!"

"You don't have a reason to treat me," you retaliated in a half-serious half-silly demeanor. Lee Know shook his head in response.

"There doesn't have to be a reason."

"You're just never this considerate is all." Another reply you would slightly regret the moment is escaped your lips. Minho threw his head back, his ego slightly hurt at your statement.

"I am always considerate, hello?" he countered sounding a tad vexated. "What kind of image do you have of me?"

"Well, if you're always considerate, is dinner going to be on you too?" you inquired, crossing your arms brazenly as you awaited an answer.

"You..." Minho's voice quieted as he let out a string of adorning giggles. "No, relax. I am only covering the dessert portion." You scoffed, this one coming out in an exuberant manner in contrast to the previous ones out of annoyance.

"So, I'll pay for dinner in order to make it up to you, I guess, and you'll pay for dessert?" You had decided to concede to Minho's proposition about the cookies and boba. He beamed brightly at your own proposal.

"Okay, let's do that then!" his words were laced with a joyous hint, which made your heart smile. You had a newfound exhileration for the endeavor; as such, you asked Minho if he was excited in order to ensure that the feeling was reciprocated.

"I am, yeah! I am excited for the food!" Minho poked fun towards you, causing you to lightly smack the back of his head. "I'm just kidding, y/n. Of course I am excited for the food, but also because you and I, y'know...I said it earlier, but it really has been a while since we've been able to catch up. Like, not just surface level stuff in our lives, and I've really missed-"

Minho's endearing ramble was interrupted by a buzz of your cellphone; the guy's name appeared on your phone screen in the form of an iMessage. A second buzz quickly followed, and you almost lept at the coffee table in attempts to retrieve your phone. You came to a stop just as your hand grasped the device, and you slowly looked up from the table, making dejected eye contact with Minho. The grin on his face swifty disappeared, and he sighed as he looked down at the ground one more.

"I'm sorry, Min. Do you...mind if I answer this real quick?" You figured it was at least alright to ask, but you took note of how upset he appeared as the inquiry left your mouth.

"Uh, yeah, go ahead. Can't really ignore that, right?" Minho never looked up from the ground as he spoke, and the last fragment of his sentence came out in a snarky bearing.

"I mean I can if, if you want me to," you stuttered, and Minho just shook his head in disapproval.

"I know if you try not to check your phone, you're just going to get distracted from the conversation," Minho paused, taking into consideration how you were hyper-focused on your phone, your fingers were already moving at the speed of light to type out a reply to the guy. "And it looks like you're already doing that anyways." You glanced up from your phone, your face contorted into a confused expression with your eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed together.

"Why are you making that face at me?" Minho catechized your expression as if it was the most unnecessary item in the world. "It's him again, I know it is. I told you not to bother with him anymore, so why are you even thinking about responding?" You were silent, a culpable feeling engulfing your body.

"He. He apologized, and he said-"

"It doesn't matter what he's saying!" Minho snapped outrageously, instantly standing and unintentionally towering over you. "Are you serious right now? We just talked about this!" His fists were clenched by his side, and his eyes were narrowed in exasperation. Before he could let his emotions take over, he took a couple of steps away from you and removed his glasses one more, rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes to seemingly rid them of the stress he was feeling. "Y'know, this is really starting to piss me off."

"Why? Why does it matter so much to you?" you queried, careful not to let the lump building up in your throat waiver your voice. Minho looked at you as if you had lost your sanity.

"Because I thought we were done with this, y/n."

"It's none of your business, Minho!" You had stood up now as well in order to mirror the actions of your friend. He took a step closer to you, his expression vexing further if that was fathomable.

"No, it wasn't my business initially, but you kind of went and made it my business with how often you rubbed this in my face. What, you expect me not to care about what happens to you?" You jeered at Minho's question, slapping a hand against your thigh in frustration.

"Can you just admit you don't like the fact I'm hanging out with a guy who isn't you? That's what the whole problem is here! Like I said: you're jealous, Minho." You crossed your arms as you stared up at the taller boy, who rolled his eyes in the middle of your reply.

"Here you go again with the jealousy thing," Minho huffed. "Look, I'm really annoyed already, so can you stop messing around, please?"

"I'm not messing around," you defended your stance. "You're only worried about me because another guy is in the picture."

"I am worried about you as a friend, y/n, and I'm saying from a platonic standpoint that he is not worth it," Minho retaliated, the annoyance becoming more prominent in his voice with every word he spoke.

"Meaning what exactly?" you prodded further. At this point, Minho was not sure if you were simply asking questions because of sheer confusion or to get on his nerves. It was a mix of both in reality; you could not deny the immense joy you felt from pushing Minho to his limits, yet you also could not fathom why he was so passionate about his stance on this guy.

"Meaning that I don't want you to see him anymore." Minho thought the response sounded better in his head. You widened your eyes once you heard it.

"Okay, so you're jealous and possessive." You moved your finger as you spoke as if you were making some sort of air-bullet list. Minho's mouth gaped slightly open and he sneered.

"Now I sound possessive? I'm really not, but sure, if you'd like to add that into your mix of ideas about me, too." Minho attempted to walk away from the conversation, but you grabbed his shirt sleeve to make him stay put.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" you asked for the nth time that night. Minho looked down at your hand's grasp on his shirt sleeve, then back up at you before scoffing once again, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

"You have not seen me being possessive at all, sweetheart," he remarked with a boldness present in his voice. "I don't want to get into this right now."

"And why is that?" The pure curiosity within you had vanished; now, the questions were purely to push Minho's buttons. You had already gotten him so far towards the edge, so what harm would an additional shove do?

"Because if I were being possessive, I would say, 'You're not going out with him again. I'm not letting him have you.' That is what I would want to say," Minho's sultry gaze bore into your own, and you felt your knees tremble slightly and your heart quicken its pace. You did not understand why you had began to feel this way, but it was exciting.

And you wanted more.

"Are you still insisting on this as a friend, Min?" As you uttered those words, you made an essentially bold move; you moved your hand from his shirt sleeve to his palm, nearly intertwining his hand with yours. The mere movement made Minho's breath hitch.

"Well, I, uh," Minho took a deep breath before continuing. "How much are you going to push me? If you asked me like that then you already have an idea, don't you?" He instinctly moved his thumb over your knuckles as he began his honest vouch. "You're right. I have been feeling jealous for a while now. I don't know when it started, but I am. Having to think about you and this guy going out has obviously only made it worse." Your gaze softened as you squeezed his hand.

"Why didn't you tell me, Min?"

"Because I didn't think I would care this much, so how was I supposed to tell you?" Minho genuinely asked this question, but you did not respond.

"So, is that all?" Minho scoffed at your returned question.

"Excuse me? Of course it's not," he stated like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Do you really want to know what else I've been keeping to myself?" Before you realized what you were doing, your body took control over your mind, allowing your head to nod in agreement rapidly, earning a, "Are you sure about that?" from Minho.

"Are they," you began, feeling a slight tremble in your voice so you paused for a moment. "Are they about me?"

"Mhm. They're related to you. The things that I've wanted to do, thought about doing. It's more than I'm willing to say on its own," he responded casually, the chillness yet unintentionally seductive manner causing you to instinctively cross your legs and slightly rub them together.

"Don't say it then," you replied near instantly, an anxious hitch present in your voice. "Show me." Minho quirked an eyebrow, repeating your words to make sure he understood you correctly. He sighed deeply, almost longingly.

"If you insist, then fine. C'mere," he planted a firm hand on your upper back and pulled you impossibly close towards him. Before you could question his actions, his lips were on yours, kissing you like he had no time left in the world. You were shocked at first, but you quickly melted into the kiss, a few whimpers escaping from your mouth as the two of you embraced. After about thirty seconds, Minho pulled away, smiling at how swollen your lips appeared after such a short period of time.

"I like you," he stumbled over his words as he spoke. "More than I was ever planning to or ever supposed to." He accompanied his confession with a gentle caress of your cheek, a lazy grin accompanying his features. "Seeing you talk about that guy just made me realize how much it bothered me, and," he took a short stop, the light in his eyes morphing into an expression of lust, "if I could have my way with you...if I could do anything that I wanted, then I would keep you all to myself." The hand he had placed on your cheek shifted downward until it found purchase on your waist. Minho's words and subsequent actions had you feeling hot. Everywhere.

"Minho, I never expected you to be this way," you chuckled both out of astonishment and nervousness towards Lee Know's possessiveness.

"Yeah, I don't think you've ever seen how greedy of a person I can be," he responded with an anxious chortle of his own. "I tried to maintain being friends, and obviously I couldn't act like that, could I?" You shook your head, agreeing with his statement.

"Well, maybe I like the way you're acting right now," your hands placing themselves against his chest. You stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "Maybe I want to see that side of you." The reaction Minho felt from your words went straight down.

"Why?" he whispered in return, his own voice sounding like a whine rather than an octave.

"Because...there is a slight chance I feel the same way you do, and I am curious as to how far this side of you extends." Your hands had began to slide up and down Minho's chest, allowing him to release a soft groan.

"Alright then," he replied as both hands now softly grasped your waist. "If you were mine, then I would definitely be a lot closer than this." Once Minho stated this, he gently maneuvered the both of you back over the couch, softly laying you down and hovering over top of you. The heat within your body was growing, and your heart was pumping with adrenaline at the sight of your best friend on top of you.

You could not believe that this was reality.

"Probably this close would be more accurate," he added on with a cheeky smirk, although his heavy breaths contrasted the slyness of his attitude. He had one hand on your lower back and the other softly brushing over your left cheek. "I wouldn't be able to help myself from here though," he leaned down to the crook of your neck, just to where his lips were ghosting the lobe of your ear. "I would make sure everyone knows you're mine," he alluringly whispered as he moved your hair away from the skin of your neck. "Especially here to start," he murmured before diving down to kiss the exposed area. "The things you do to me," he muttered as he kissed, licked, and sucked love marks into your neck. You did your best to keep quiet; however, no matter your best efforts, a string of hearty whines fell from your lips with every sensual movement Lee Know performed.

It felt like Heaven on Earth.

Minho was setting a rhythm to his actions when he was crudely interrupted by yet another buzz from your cellphone. You instinctually moved to grab it, only to be met with Lee Know sighing in annoyance. He swiftly grasped your arm and pinned it down to your side.

"Stop," he commanded in a frustrated yet enduring tone. "Don't answer it. Look at me." He took his free hand and tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He delved down once more, this time finding your lips rather than your neck. This time, he slipped his tongue past your lips and yours impulsively fought back for dominance, allowing you both to explore one another's mouths. One of your hands found residence in his soft brown locks of hair, tugging on them lightly and eliciting a few moans from his ends.

Yet, all good things must come to an end, it seems.

Another buzz came from your phone, causing both you and Minho to let out groans of irritation.

"Give me that," Minho demanded, outstretching his arm for you to hand your phone to him. You automatically did as he asked and placed your phone in his grasp, to which he put it on the head of the couch behind him, making it to where you could not reach it.

"You're done with him."

With that, Minho went back to kissing you as if his life depended on it, taking note of the equal fervor your kisses contained. Hands were roaming everywhere, lips were encapsulated with one another's, blood flow was pumping to the maximum. It felt perfect. Minho pulled away to catch a breath of air, slightly chuckling against your lips at your flushed state. You had not even been making out for five minutes, and you already appeared disheveled with your bangs sticking to your forehead and your eyes blown with a glint of need.

"You really wanted this, too, didn't you?" Minho quieried, concentrating on keeping his gaze focused on yours. You let out a quiet 'mhm' in response, causing Minho's brazen smirk to reappear. "Were you trying to get a reaction out of me? Just so I would take it this far?" Minho moved your sweaty strands of hair out of your face as he anticipated a response.

"I wasn't trying to at first, I promise," you riposted sounding entirely breathless, partially because you were. "But it just got so fun seeing you all worked up over me." This caused the both of you to giggle; although, the humor was swiftly overtaken by hunger as Minho scanned your body up and down.

"How about I get back to making sure everyone knows you aren't available, hm?" He did not alott time for a response before beginning to kiss your neck once again. "Fuck, you have such a pretty neck," he groaned as he began to resume his prior actions of sucking, biting, and kissing every exposed spot he could access. He continued his endeavors for a long time, only pausing when your moans became as high pitched as a shriek. He pulled away briefly, analyzing the spots in which he had just finished orally assaulting.

"What? Are you sensitive here?" he inquired, gently rubbing his thumb over the spot for emphasis.

"Y-yes, Min, oh my God," you moaned out, desperate to have him reattach his lips to your skin. As if he could read your mind, he did just what you desired, focusing intently on your sensitive spots and relishing in the strangled moans you released as he did so.

You had almost completely lost yourself in the moment until yet another buzz came from your cellphone. Minho released an agitated noise before pulling away from the love-mark he had just embellished upon your neck.

"What the fuck does this guy want?" He read over the text message you were sent, scoffing in response. "A little too late to be texting this now," he remarked and set your phone back on the upper couch cushion.

"What did he say, Min?" Minho leaned back down seemingly even closer than he was before and pressed a short kiss to your temple.

"Don't worry about it, Sweetheart," Minho answered. "You're not seeing him again, and even if he does run into you, I think he'll get the message when he sees these marks all over your neck." Minho accompanied his words by glancing down at your neck; where there was once a smooth skin tone now housed marks of red, purple, and pink, almost resembling some form of a darkened sunset.

"They're so pretty," he whispered as he ran his fingers gently over the blemished marks. "I like seeing proof of my work on you. I want to mark you all over your body," he confessed, instead opting to mark your lips with a kiss in that moment.

"Lift up your arms for me," Minho babbled against your lips. "These clothes are getting in the way." You did just as you were commanded and raised your arms above your head. Minho made quick work of the baby blue crop top you had chosen to wear that day, pulling it over your head and leaving you topless with the exception of your bra.

"C'mon, get it all off for me," he directed you in regards to your bra. You reached your hands behind your back, attempting to undo the impossible clasp of the material. Minho offered to aid your struggle; his larger hands quickly replaced yours, and he was able to undo your bra in one swift motion. He instantaneously groaned at the sight of you, topless, and made specifically for him. He had imagined this scenario over the span of countless, lonely nights; his imagination had underestimated the mere sight of you because here you lay, even more perfect than he could have ever pictured.

"Can I touch you, baby?" he asked you, his words sounding desperate and sensual.

"Please do," you squeaked out, grabbing one of his hands and guiding them to your left breast. Minho took control from there, fondling the one breast as his mouth went to appease the other. The pleasure that erupted in your body was indescribable by words, only becoming conveyed by the loud moans that bounced off of the living room walls; every flick of Minho's tongue over your right nipple, every brush of his thumb over the left, and every sensation you felt on your chest made you rub your thighs together, begging for some sort of sweet relief. Minho picked up on your needy movements; therefore, he released your breasts from his suction and gently placed your hands on them instead.

"Keep playing with your tits for me," he instructed, "while I help you out down here, yeah?" You nodded desperately, feeling slightly embarassed from what he was asking you to do, but you obliged nevertheless, attempting to mirror his movements from before.

Minho, on the other hand, was slowly making his way down to your waistline, kissing every surface of your body he could while doing so. He made it to the band of your light grey sweatpants, and he hooked his thumb under the hem of both them and your underwear, managing to pull both articles down simultaneously and discarding them somewhere on the living room floor.

"Fuck," was all he could manage to spew out as he took you in. Your physical beauty, your scent, the slick already coating you, every aspect of your core was absolutely intriguing to him; it only made his ferality grow.

"I want to taste you," he confessed, not daring to make any movements upon you until he had your full consent. "Can I?"

"Please!" you nearly screamed, praying desparately for him to have his way with you. With your approval, Minho wasted no time in pleasing you. He started with slow kitty licks to your clitoris, eventually switching to alternations between licking and sucking on the sensitive bud, allowing his tongue to drag itself a bit lower down your folds each time. You let out an agonizing sigh of relief, which made its way past your lips in the form of a moan.

"Oh my God, Minho," you whimpered. "Just like that, please!" You continued to beg and plead and whimper and whine the whole way through Minho's work upon you.

"Fuck, y/n, you taste so good," he vibrated against your core, causing shock waves to coarse throughout your lower half. As your moans began to pick up in pace and pitch, as did Minho's movements in speed. He sucked, licked, and hummed against you at a moderate rhythm, giving rise to your back arching and your hips bucking. You felt a knot began to tighten in your stomach just as Minho pulled away, removing his cool, metal rings from his right hand. He tenderly took hold of your dominant hand and placed it where his mouth just was.

"I want you to play with your clit while I finger you," he told you bluntly, causing your cheeks to flush slightly. He took notice of your unease and so added on, "Can you do that for me?" as a way to both ask for your consent and make sure you were in a stable mindset to do so.

"Yes," you hoarsely stammered, "I can." To prove it, you leisurely began to rub your clit in small circles, moaning at the return of pleasureful contact. Minho smirked at your actions.

"Good girl," he praised as he slowly inserted his middle finger inside of you, pumping the singular digit slowly in and out of your vagina, curling it in order to brush against that sweet spot inside of you. Your maneuvers on yourself began to falter slightly as he inserted his ring finger as well, quickening his pace as he did so. You made an attempt to stifle your wanton, continuous moans; after all, you hated being too loud, always fearing someone would walk in and catch you in the act. Yet, Minho was not standing for this.

"No no," he stated while making eye contact with you, "let me hear you, baby. Be loud for me. Moan for me" Just like that, any hesitation within your body vanished, and you let every noise held within your vocal chords escape. Moans, groans, whimpers, whines, and everything in between filled the thin walls of your apartment.

"Attagirl." Minho took your noises as encouragement and began pumping his fingers in and out of you faster, still managing to curl them at the opportune moments. You began to rub your clit in tempo-esque sync with Minho's fingers, both motions feeling inhumanely swift at this point.

"Min, I'm getting c-close," you mumbled out, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further and your brain only focusing on your release.

"Yeah, baby?" he cooed as his fingers rapidly brushed against your G-Spot. "Cum for me then, baby. I want you to cum all over my fingers. Can you do that for me?" He never broke eye contact with you as he asked this, not once.

"I, I can try," you replied, attempting to laugh the nervousness off, but it instead came out gargled.

"Hm, good girls do what they're told. You wanna be a good girl for me, right?" Minho inquired, moving his fingers back down to a moderate pace.

"Yes, yes, yes, I do!" you stumbled over your repetition. "'M your good girl." Minho chuckled at your adorable, mind-numb antics.

"Then cum all over for me," he repeated, working his fingers back up to the swift pace they had stalled from. "You can do it, I know you can, baby." The combined pleasure of Minho's fingers gracing your G-Spot and your fingers massaging your clit all became too overwhelming at once. You felt yourself coming undone, and as such, your hips began to stutter and your thighs began to shake as you came down from your high. Your hands flew to grasp at the slick leather of the couch as Minho's fingers helped you ride out your high.

"Good girl," Minho eulogized as he removed both digits from your entrance and inserted them into his mouth, licking them clean of your arousal. He climbed back over top of you and planted a kiss of adoration on your forehead.

"You did so well for me, pretty girl," he ran a hand through your hair as he smiled earnestly at you. Your brain was too numb to respond with verbage, so you instead sat up and kissed Minho with more passion than you previously had. "That's my girl," he mumbled against your lips. You mustered up enough strength to push Minho on his back, his hands instantly crawling up to squeeze the plush of your ass.

"Your turn," you tiredly stated, causing a chuckle to escape Lee Know's mouth. He encapsulated you in yet another kiss as your hands traveled down to his black, ripped jeans. You quickly found the zipper, unzipping his pants while simultaneously, yet unintentionally, palming his erection and eliciting a needy groan from him. With a bit of help from him, you shimmied his jeans and his boxers down, allowing his cock to spring free from its prior restraint. You took his shirt off of him just as fast, leaving both of you bare in front of one another.

"C'mere," he commanded, moving you forward on his lap to the point in which you were straddling him as he was sitting up. "Spread those legs for me." You shifted your position to where you were doing just that, giving him enough room to push up into you comfortably. "There you go," he praised before softly gripping your chin and pulling you into a brief yet fiery kiss.

"Look at me," Minho adjured you. "I don't want to miss a second of this pretty face." The compliment caused you to go red once more, making Minho in turn giggle. "Are you ready?" he asked before going forward.

"Yes, I have been, please, Min," you were not even sure what you were begging for, but Minho found it adorable nevertheless.

"Please what, baby?"

"Please fuck me."

Minho could not help but smirk at your bold comment as if to say, 'As you wish.' He adjusted his dick to align with your entrance and slowly but surely, inch by inch pushed himself inside of you. The stretch you felt from the endeavor was painful, yet delicious, and both you and Minho groaned from the feeling of one another's arousal. Minho was still for a minute, allowing for you to adjust to his length. Without warning, you began to slowly bounce on his length, taking Lee Know completely by surprise. Moans quickly refilled the apartment air, this time coming from both parties.

"Thereee you go," Minho groaned out as you continued your movements, his hands bracing themselves on your hips both to steady you and to keep himself in tact. "Move those hips for me baby."

A plethora of praises began to feel the air as you sped up your movements on Minho's cock, consisting of, 'That's it, baby,' 'Keep doing that,' and the ever so common, 'Yes, yes, yes!' along with multiple swears that adorned the vicinity. All reasonable judgment had left the area, with both you and Minho becoming concerned with each other's pleasure ass moans and movements began to become more frequent.

This statement only proved its factuality as Minho heard a buzzing sound coming from behind him. Your movements began to slow down as you heard it too; of course, it was your phone that was responsible. Minho grabbed your phone and scoffed, a sly, 'fuck,' falling from his lips as he read the caller ID.

"Look who it is again," he laughed sarcastically, showing you the phone screen as you continued your dulled thrusts. "And he's calling this time." Minho pondered for a moment before an idea came into his head. Amidst the noises of skin slapping, he asked you, "Should I answer it?" Your face instantly contorted into an expression of worry and anxiety.

"No, no, Min. D-don't answer it," you stammered out in a mix of breathlessness and fret.

"Are you sure? I think he's g-getting kind of worried," Minho retorted, the cockiness evident in his tone. Despite your wishes, he picked up the call.

"Hello?" Almost instantaneously, you clenched around Minho, both out of worry and exhileration. It was an anxiety-stricken situation, that was for certain; however, something about the confidence Minho exerted in that moment turned you on, so much so to the point where you accidentally let out a high pitched moan.

"Shh," Minho held a hand over your mouth, holding the phone away from you both. "You don't want him to hear you moaning like this, do you?" You shook your head no as Minho smirked and brought your phone back to his ear. "Sorry, what was that? Yeah, she's busy with me right now, but if you want me to leave a message for you, I can. You sure? Alright, no problem. Take care, man." Minho finally hung up the phone. "I think he got the message."

Although you could not hear the other end of the conversation, you were almost positive the guy could ear the lewd noises coming from your side of the receiver. It should have embarrassed you to no end, but it only made your eroticism grow. As such, you bounced harder and faster on Minho's cock, causing him to throw his head back in pleasure and release a string of swears.

"Fuck, baby. You were squeezing me so tightly while I was on the phone," he remarked about the gesture you had hoped he had not tooken notice of. "Were you that nervous or was it that," he stopped his interrogation to caputre you in yet again another passionate kiss, "you liked it? Hm?"

You could not bring yourself to answer him verbally, instead allowing moan upon moan to be uttered. Minho did not mind, however, instead allowing the both of you to become lost within your pleasure. With the pace you had set for the occasion, it was not long until you found yourself nearing a second orgasm, and from the way Minho's hips had began to stutter against your own and his whines becoming more high pitched, you figured it was the same case for him. He proved you correct moments later.

"Close, 'M close," he repeated several times over. "Keep going. Just like that for me, yeah?" His hands grasped your hips, aiding you in swiftening your movements on his cock, bouncing faster than you had ever been able to manage before. "Where baby? Where do you want me to cum?"

"Inside," you replied without hesitation. Your answer surprised Minho initially, but it quickly morphed into excitement. Minho felt his orgasm creeping up on him, so he buried his head into the crook of your neck, thrusting his hips into your own as he quickly tried to bring himself to release.

You, on the other hand, felt yourself already coming undone once more, and Minho's additional thrusts were the straws that broke the camel's back. You saw stars as your second orgasm hit, feeling more intense than the first by a longshot. The sight itself alone was enough to arouse Minho to completion, and he let himself go, realising thick white ropes of cum inside of you and groaning immensely while doing so.

As both of you came down from your respective highs, you laid your head on Minho's chest, your breathing heavy and your blood pumping. Minho held you close to him, not wanting to let you go in that moment.

"Damn," he finally broke the silence with a chuckle. He lifted your head up towards him, muttering a, 'c'mere' as he brought you in for a kiss, this one much less intense than the ones prior.

"You did so well, baby," he rubbed your arms as he spoke. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," was all you could mumble against him. You somehow felt weak yet on Cloud 9 at the same time. It was a weird feeling, but exhilerating none the less. You attempted to lift yourself off of Minho, but the boy's strong arms kept you held down.

"Let's just stay like this for a little while, yeah?" You nodded, bringing yourself to lie down on top of Minho. "Are you alright, Princess?"

"Mhm," you sleepily mumbled. "You?"

"Well, I didn't expect to be doing this tonight, but yes. I am great." Minho looked up at the sight of you: your hair stuck to your forehead once more, beads of sweat cascaded like waterfalls down your body, and you were ninety-nine percent sure your makeup was running. Yet, Minho thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he vocalized it.

"I look like the personified spawn of Satan right now, Minho." Minho could not help but burst into a fit of laughter at your words.

"You're always beautiful to me," he retorted. You smiled down at him, feeling yourself doze off in his arms, but not before he muttered one more thing:

"So, no more of him then, right?"

[devilsskettle]

The Passenger / Jenny Holzer

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 15

We are set to arrive on Fendaar in two cycles. As we are currently stuck on the SIIR Noxos, I have concluded that the passages of time that I am free of duties would be best spent continuing to observe the human. The human, on the other hand, seemed to have different plans in that matter, as it took me an unusually long amount of time to locate her.

As I eventually found her, she seemed to be working on one of the control panels in the main control room, so I may excuse her absence with duties she had to attend to. As she saw me, although, she seemed rather…excited (this is obviously mere speculation, as the study of the Terran so far has provided far too little evidence to prove such theories)?

As she rolled out from under the control board and sighted me, her face once again split into a wide opening revealing her horrifying amount of teeth.

"Hey! Dude!", she said, raising to her full height and stepping towards me, still baring her teeth, although I did not recoil, as I did not want to seem impolite. She raised her arms, each pointing into a different direction, away from their connection to the human's body.

"Human Quinn. How are you?"

"Me? I‘m fine, the whole 'wandering around in space' thing just made me throw up, I honestly don‘t know why they insisted on keeping me there for two whole days."

The ends of her fingers, studded with claw-like (rather short and rounded instead of sharp, perhaps they were not meant to function as claws at all, or perhaps the beings on Terra were far different from what I knew, and therefore a shape like this was far more useful to hunt) protuberances, scraped over the back of the connection between her head and her upper body. If I interpreted her facial expression correctly, she seemed to be thinking.

"Maybe I got a light concussion too, I’m not entirely sure. But it's improbable, because I’m fine now."

I decided to focus on one piece of information at a time. "Well, this "throwing up" can certainly not be a healthy nor normal process, otherwise, it would not seem so violently painful and involuntary, would it?"

"Well it‘s not…unnatural, it‘s just something that can happen. And about health, it‘s not unhealthy, it usually helps us to get rid of stuff that is bad for our bodies!", she eludicated, moving one of her arms in a rather random manner.

"The scientists have concluded that this fluid is highly acidic. If this 'stuff' is so harmful to you, wouldn‘t it just dissolve in this fluid before being able to cause any further harm?"

Quinn seemed to think about that. 

"Well, just because it gets dissolved, doesn‘t mean it‘s gone, you know? It's still in our bodies, and we have to get rid of it somehow. And if it needs to be fast, we throw up. Honestly, I‘d definitely explain this further to you, but Biology‘s never really been my strongest subject, ya know what I mean?"

I did not, in fact, know what she meant, but I decided against questioning her further.

After a pause the Terran spoke up again: "So, this planet we're landing on..." "Fendaar.", I clarified. "Right. So, this planet that we‘re going to, it‘s a desert, right?" "That is correct." "So, is it a sand, an ice or, I guess you could also count rock desert? 'Cuz on my planet, we‘ve got all of those types."

"Fendaar‘s ecosystem is mostly made up out of sandlike landscapes with rather scarce vegetation and biodiversity. Most of the planets in system 36-54 have rather extreme temperature ranges, and Fendaar is no exception.", I eludicated.

"Alright, cool.", she spoke, rolling back under the underside of the control panel she had been working on previously. She seemed to be sitting, or rather lying, on a piece of metal with four small wheels attached to it, allowing her to move it around.

"Your planet.", I initiated. 

"Yeah?", she responded, while continuing her work on the wiring.

"Am I assuming correctly that your planet has a far bigger biodiversity?"

"Oh, yeah.", there was a small spring in her voice, as if she had let out air in the middle of speaking. "Big biodiversity. We‘ve got deserts and rainforests, coral reefs and permafrost - although perhaps not for that long anymore - mountain ranges and all that stuff."

"Interesting.", I supplied, for lack of a better response. If Terra had such differences in temperature and landscapes, it was a logical conclusion that the humans had evolved to survive under such circumstances.

"Yeah."

It was unusually quiet for some time. That was, until Quinn rolled out from the underside of the control panels.

"Alright, I‘m done." She took a deep breath before opening her mouth once again. Then, all of a sudden, the muscles of her face started contracting as if she was plagued by an invisible pain. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let out horrifying noise, holding an arm angled in front of her nose and mouth. The noise itself was not particularly loud or long, but I recoiled either way, as a measure of safety. I could not be certain if this gesture was meant to harm me, after all.

Quinn‘s arm sank down again as her other hand rubbed at her nose. She huffed, a sound far less threatening than the one she had produced a moment ago. One of the hair patches above her visual organs raised itself, prompting the question to arise if human hair was controlled by muscles or if it had a mind of its own, although this was a question that could be further investigated later. One of the corners of her mouth raised, revealing the seemingly sharpest teeth in her mouth.

"I guess dust is an inter-galactic thing, huh?"

I did not respond. Her face muscles contracted, causing the skin above her visual organs to crease.

"Hey, you okay? You‘re looking a little spooked over there."

"Human, I do not wish to cause you discomfort, but, if I may ask, what was the purpose of the noise you just uttered?"

She did not respond for a moment, blinking with both of her eyes as she stared at me. It was quite unsettling, considering her previous explanation, that most humans preferred not being stared at. 

"I…sneezed?" The creases in the skin above her eyes deepened.

My front pliers uttered another rattling sound. "What is this 'sneezing'? What purpose does it serve?" I admit, I was quite curious. Terrans seemed much more complex than I had previously assumed.

She paused, seemingly to think of an answer. "Well, it‘s like…if something is bothering us at or in out nose, like dust, for example, it‘s kind of the natural response to that. To keep things out of our bodies that don‘t belong there."

"Human bodies seem to require a lot of defense mechanisms.", I commented.

She raised and lowered the connection of her arms to her upper body, baring her teeth once again while raising herself to her full height, using one of her arms as support.

"Y’know, it’s surprisingly hard to explain something you’re so used to to someone who’s never heard of it. I guess I still have to work on the whole 'awareness that I‘m around aliens' thing. S‘ kind of surreal."

She patted off her clothing, as if to remove non-existent filth once again. I had noticed the past few cycles that most of her clothing seemed to consist of several, usually differently-coloured, pieces of fabric. 

Her clothes usually covered her body from the connection between her arms and torso to the connection between her legs and, presumably, her feet. Her feet were usually also covered, although I could not determine the purpose it was supposed to serve in the environment we are currently in, although the theory that the conditions on Earth are vastly different compared to the ones on the SIIR Noxos is gaining more probability, based on the Terran's narrations.

The human seemed to evaluate a question she wanted to ask (this is, of course, a mere speculation based on previous observations: her face muscles were contracted to form a crease over her visual organs, which could so far most likely be interpreted as confusion, thoughtfulness or discomfort; her head was both slightly raised and tilted to one side at the same time, a gesture that was most likely supposed to convey an ongoing thought process).

Although, before she could utter a noise, V-7 informed us of a request from the Vitrichl to gather for a matter of importance.

The purpose of his summoning was to divide the crew into several smaller groups that were to be assigned with different tasks to fulfill once we sucessfully landed on Fendaar.

I was grouped with the Terran, which was unsurprising, as well as Tkzt, a member of the species that is widely known across the galaxies as Ctzas (it is to note that the Ctzas have not evolved any form of written language and communicate exclusively through clicking and chittering sounds. The written forms of, for example, names of this species, are written by other species to produce approximately the same sound as the Ctzas make when recited verbally).

Tkzt, as a member of the unit controlling supply chains and keeping a list of the stock of the SIIR Noxos, would make a helpful addition in our task of seeking out the nearest settlement in order to stock up on supplies.

After all matters of importance were settled, the crew dissipated, continuing their respective tasks. The Terran was ordered to stay and to assist the Vitrichl in another matter, which is the reason I did not cross paths with the human again for the rest of this cycle.

Despite this, I am positive that accompanying the human on an foreign planet will give me a further insight into the species' mannerisms and interaction manners with foreign species, which will prove to be helpful further on in studying the human.

[qoldenskies]

Donnie describing the destruction of his space as preventable because all of this was preventable had he just been more useful and less annoying and quieter and smarter and smaller and scarce until needed.

How the family meeting had settled in how much the issue wasn’t what he did but more so what he was, and the only thing he needed to take from it was that he needed to hate himself as much as they hated him.

Or how three out of the eight messages he sent to Leo were apologies, but Leo doesn’t want to hear it if he doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for, he’s only doing it so he’ll keep stroking his ego, and god Donnie do you ever shut the fuck up? Leo says please don’t apologize and Donnie says nothing in response. Because the only thing worse than them not accepting his sorry’s was tell me what you’re saying sorry for, and even when he said the right thing he was still wrong in the end.

!!!!! YOUUUU GET IT ESPECIALLY WITH THE LEO THING. that "please dont apologize" is LOADED in like four different ways, especially knowing the inner turmoil that it must have stemmed from; the thing leo and donnie have the MOST in common is that they have a tendency to run their mouth when theyre nervous, and even leo's "apology" (NOTE: this has always been intentional, but donnie calls it one, but leo never even said the words "im sorry" in those messages. donnie just grasped for straws because he was scared of their relationship falling apart) leo is kind of run-on and rambling and making excuses and being long-winded, but that curt three-word response after so much deliberation speaks of so, so much pain. and he doesn't even realize its one of the worst things he could have possibly said. he was probably laying in bed because splinter tried to get him to sleep, his heart falling more and more when donnie just left him on read, desperately trying to grasp for closure that he knew he was never going to get.

they used to be so talkative and now their voices have been taken from them because they both feel like there's nothing they can say to make it better. the coping mechanisms they used to fall back on in order to hide insecurity were ripped apart by the curse, leo because they were weaponized and twisted from something that he mostly used to show his family a good time to something vicious and cruel and manipulative and donnie because he was made to feel like a horrible person and a "liar" for them, so they're reacting in really similar ways in the end. literally despite the horrifying trauma they still find a way to twin LMFAO

[5qu1dink]

dad doesn’t know how to approach child with autism more at 11

[softheartedlover]

so I did a thing today 🤭✨

[neverendingford]

.

[usodeshou]

I had many things that I had considered doing today, most of it just being some chill video gaming, if I'm really honest. And I did get to do some. Then I started feeling sick.

I thought to myself, oh well, that silly motion sickness again, guess I'mma take a break 🙃

Turns out, wasn't just the motion sickness, though.

Spent the next hour and a half using my toilet as an echo chamber for creative voice lessons. Switched it up every now and again, just to keep things interesting, but the sound was just too good, so I kept coming back for encores. Realised the toilet might be cursed because I could not move away from it for more than a few meters or a few minutes before having to return.

Messaged my mom, who kindly brought me something to help break the curse.

Then spent the next three hours in a curled up position on my bedroom floor, on the carpet right next to my bed (bed would have been to soft), head on my fluffiest pillow, and underneath a warm, cuddly blanket, finally getting some rest and sleeping off the exhaustion.

When it all started it was early afternoon. The sun has now set. I am finally sitting back on the couch, munching on some insanely good pretzel sticks and drinking tea. Feel utterly serene. Could murder someone for a good, cheesy pizza right now, but that might be the devil talking.

[b-rainlet]

I have questions about Totally Killer

[gothgoblinbabe]

The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: You can’t stand each other, so it’s a mystery to you and Logan why you’re sent out together on an assignment. To make it worse, you’d have to act much closer than you really were.

Warnings:  mutant!reader (no specific power mentioned, though), fem!reader, enemies to lovers, swearing,  fake dating (technically fake marriage), mentions of violence, a little bit of suggestive stuff, a little bit of fluff i guess, and mild alcohol consumption. I think that's all but if i missed any, please let me know! also this is def loosely inspired by the movies 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith' and '10 Things I Hate About You'

Word Count: 5K

part 2

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ .

You hate the way he dresses.

You hate his stupid hair.

You hate the pet names he calls you.

You hate his voice.

You hate his hazel eyes.

You hate his smile.

You hate Logan Howlett.

It was no secret and neither was the fact that he couldn’t stand you either. You bickered like a married couple, constantly fought till you bled when you were training and couldn’t go a day without one of you insulting the other. Truthfully, it was probably because you were too alike - fire versus fire - and knew exactly how to press each other's buttons.

That’s why you were both confused when you stood in Charles’ office - dumbfounded expression on your faces - as he told you that he assigned you to a mission together.

“Oh, no way,” you nearly laughed, thinking it was a joke.

“Yeah, not happening,” Logan agreed. It may have been the only thing you’ve ever agreed on.

“That’s unfortunate for both of you, as I am sending you anyway. You are the only capable people that aren’t already out on an assignment or teaching a class full time.”

“How do you expect us to do it without killing each other?” you raised your eyebrows.

“You are adults. I trust you will navigate that on your own.”

Logan scoffed beside you, his arms crossed over his chest.

You sighed, closing your eyes in frustration and biting the bullet, “what do we have to do?”

“There is a safe hidden in the home of a very wealthy socialite who’s been involved in orchestrating attacks on mutants - injecting them with a serum that replaces their mutation gene with that of a normal human,” Charles began to explain.

Your chest felt heavy. It always made you anxious and a little ill when you’d hear the stories of people who hated you so much that they’d go as far as to harm or violate you in some way, all in the name of trying to rid the earth of you completely or turn you into one of them.

“The only known sample of the serum is locked in that safe,” he continued, “and I will need you to retrieve it. You are to infiltrate a gathering being held in her home, obtain the contents of the safe and return promptly.”

“So, we’re…going to a party?” Logan asked with one eyebrow raised.

“A dinner party,” Charles replied, “and another thing - you must not attend as yourselves. You’ve been invited on the good word of another guest - someone we trust - but you’ve been invited as a married couple to avoid arousing suspicion.”

He must’ve been getting some sick enjoyment from this.

“Married couple,” you repeated, your eyes narrowed, “Us. You want us to pretend to be a couple.”

“What, do I have to like - touch her? I’m not doing that,” Logan piped up.

“Oh, i’m so disappointed,” you rolled your eyes, sarcasm clear in your voice, “Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

“No, you fuck off.”

“No, you.”

“I said it first!”

“Enough,” Charles interrupted, “you will be attending as Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Huh,” Logan hummed, “that’s creative.”

“Its inconspicuous,” he replied.

“What are our first names, then?”

“You have creative liberty. I trust you will come up with something just as unremarkable.”

“How about Sid and Nancy?” you scoffed, chuckling a little in disbelief. 

“Does that mean I get to stab you?”

“You’d miss.”

Charles had his head in his hands.

“How about Jack and Jill?”

You both turned your heads to him when he spoke, pausing the back and forth between you that you were sure to continue later. You glanced at Logan and shrugged, indifferent to the names.

“That’ll work,” Logan mirrored your actions.

“Lovely. Tomorrow evening at five. I will have the address ready. In the meantime, here,” he opened his palm and placed two rings on the table, “these are your wedding bands.”

You huffed and took the smaller of the two, Logan picking up the plain silver band. Yours was simple - a false diamond in the middle and two smaller ones on each side.

“What, you couldn’t get me anything bigger?” you joked to Logan, holding up the ring. 

“Oh, you want somethin’ big?”

Your eyes went wide and you elbowed him in the arm, groaning in disgust, “Gross.”

—----------------

Five o’clock came fast, your nerves seemingly increasing the speed of time. You’d made a mess of your wardrobe looking for something to wear that was comfortable, but not too ‘you’. What would a rich person wear to a dinner party? How the hell were you supposed to know?

Some nice pants, a blouse and complimenting shoes would have to do - it was the only thing you had that looked relatively formal. Adding some jewelry made it just a little more convincing. 

You went down the stairs to meet Logan at the front door, dreading the coming hours. You turned the corner and finally saw him, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He wore a white t-shirt tucked into his jeans, his boots, and he’d traded his usual leather jacket for a suit jacket. He actually cleaned up pretty nice, but you weren’t gonna tell him that.

He heard your footsteps and turned towards the sound. He could feel the sweat starting to form at the back of his neck. 

He’d never seen you in anything nice like that - you never really had any occasions to dress up for - and he hated how much he liked it. Your pants hugged you perfectly, your blouse was buttoned low and you even had on a little bit of makeup. 

“You don’t look too bad,” he managed to comment, opening the door for you.

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you realized aloud, the both of you heading towards Logan’s truck, “You look alright.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Smith.”

He opened the car door for you, uncharacteristically gentlemen-like.

You shot him an odd look and got in anyway.

“I’m practicing,” He explained, shutting your door and walking around to slide into his seat, “can’t have anyone thinkin’ I’m a shit husband.”

“Good luck.”

“Uh-oh,” Logan had an amused expression, his eyes glued to the road as you began moving, “that’s not wife behavior, sunshine.”

“Bite Me.”

He clicked his tongue, “Feisty. Oh - I can use that when people ask about us! I’ll say it's one of your absolute worst qualities that any man would be repulsed by, but that our love is blind.”

You scoffed, “Great, and I’ll get to tell them you spend sixteen hours brushing your hair into cat ears and shed all over the bathroom like an animal.”

“See - now, that one seems a little personal.”

“It is.”

“Just pretend for a night that I’m the man of your dreams, okay?” he asked, “pretend I’m, uh - I don’t know, some celebrity guy you have a crush on.”

You were silent for a second, engrossed in thought, “you look nothing like Hugh Jackman.”

“Who? You know what - sure, pretend I'm him, alright? Just squint.”

Truthfully - and you’d rather be stabbed than admit it - Logan wasn’t far off from who you could picture yourself with. Strong, kind of handsome, good with kids. He was humble, most of the time. He was just terribly annoying and way too cocky.

It wasn’t long before he was shifting the truck into park and yanking the keys from the ignition. You let him open your door and walked beside him up the front steps.

“You ready, Jack?” you teased.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Jill.”

He rang the doorbell and you stood awkwardly, eyes scanning your surroundings. The house was huge - probably only a bit smaller than the mansion - and modern, something probably built in the last ten years. The front lawn was impeccable, as were the marble statues strategically placed between foliage and flora. 

The door opened and you inhaled sharply, trying to prepare yourself to lie your ass off.

“Hello! You must be Mr. and Mrs. Smith! So lovely to meet you, please - come in,” a woman ushered you in, her neck and ears decorated in pearls. You recognized her immediately, Charles having shown you both a picture of the hostess beforehand. You politely greeted her and introduced yourselves, already scanning the room for an emergency exit in case things went sour.

“So,” she continued talking, leading you to sit in the living room with the other mingling guests,”tell me a little about yourselves! John wasn’t very descriptive when he mentioned you. What do you do for work?”

Whoever John was, you silently thanked him.

“Uh, well,” you began, nervously glancing at Logan, “I’m a bank teller.”

Plain, boring, inconspicuous, 

She then looked to Logan expectantly, awaiting his answer. 

“Cage fighter.”

Jesus Christ. You were glaring daggers into the side of his smiling face and he pretended not to notice.

“Really?” the woman in front of you inquired, a hand on her chest. You watched her eyes scan him up and down, landing on the pecs prominent through his shirt. You scoffed out of instinct, faking a cough to cover it up.

‘Oh, yeah. Undefeated MMA champ.”

You looked away to hide the scowl on your face when your eyes locked on the vodka bottle sitting on the table a few feet away with a collection of other booze. Bingo.

“Will you excuse me for just a moment?” you smiled politely and walked away before Logan could protest, leaving him to his own devices.

You twisted the top off the bottle and picked up a glass, filling it with Vodka and some soda that was left on the table.You almost walked away with it, planning to keep it in your hands until you felt your nerves subside, until you remembered you were supposed to be a wife. Wives brought their husbands drinks, right? Not doing so would look rude and rude might blow your cover. So, you reluctantly picked up another glass and filled it partially with whiskey, knowing it was something he’d drink. You happened to glance across to the kitchen and notice a neat little rack of spices and condiments on the counter. A bottle of soy sauce was front and center, like a message from the universe, and you giggled to yourself as you snatched the bottle and hid it up your sleeve - this could be a good night if you made it entertaining.

You returned to Logan with both glasses, handing him the one filled with significantly darker liquid. He looked a little surprised but accepted it anyway.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said with narrowed eyes, a look that asked ‘what are you up to now?’

You simply nodded in acknowledgement, smiling at the hostess still standing in front of you.

“She’s a keeper,” he continued, holding the glass up to his mouth, “ always knows exactly what I like.”

You bit back a snicker as you watched him tilt the glass and finally take a sip.

His eyes went to yours immediately.  He pulled the glass from his lips, mouth still obviously full of whiskey and soy sauce. If looks could kill, you’d be long dead.

“Good, honey?” you smiled wide then, taking a sip of your own drink. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, clearly fighting a grimace. He swallowed and nearly gagged, coughing into his fist, “mhm, just a little strong.”

“Oh,” the hostess began, “Jack was just about to tell us how you met!”

A couple of guests had gathered in the same spot, all lingering in a semicircle. Logan was quite the charmer and it wasn’t a surprise that he already had a couple of women gawking at him, hanging on his every word as if any of it was true. 

“Was he?” your tone was shrill but you attempted to appear playful, lightly smacking him on the arm, “Oh, honey, you should really let me tell it.”

Whatever he was about to come up with, you hoped it was not in the same outlandish category as cage fighting. Before you could begin, though, he dismissively waved his hand in your direction.

“No, no - you’re a little forgetful, sweetheart,” his grin was mischievous as he turned to speak to the surrounding guests, “so, it all started with a tshirt competition at a bar where the girls had to - “

“Nope! Nope,” you interjected, doing your best to keep your tone light and shaking your head, “haha - that must have been another girl, honey!”

That earned a few chuckles from the guests around you and you took the opportunity while everyone's attention was on you to try and spin a tale of your own.

“So, we actually met a couple years ago,” you started, mulling over what true details to sprinkle in or if you should make it up entirely, “uh - in a library.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. You’d been at the mansion for a couple days before you bumped into him in the library while gathering books to try and put together your first lesson plan. You had a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of books in the other - admittedly stupid - but you’d always been careful. Except for that once. 

You had a book open in your arms, resting atop the stack you already gathered. You were walking and reading - again, admittedly not very smart - when you bumped into someone, spilling coffee on both of you and sending the stack of books to the floor with an audible thump. 

“Fuck, sorry -” you began to apologize, finally looking up to the strangers face. It was Logan, of course, though you didn’t know that at the time. You remember thinking he was handsome with his scruffy mutton chops and well groomed hair - until he opened his mouth.

“What the hell is wrong with you, kid?”

You knew it was partially your fault but were irked by his attitude.

“Dude, you weren’t paying attention either, obviously!” you snapped back, looking down at the beige stain now adorning your white button up.

“I’m not the one who carries coffee and a shit ton of books at the same time.”

“Whatever.”

That was your grand introduction, neither of you even exchanging names.

Logan remembered it about the same way you did, though the version he tells is a little different. He loved to tell people that when you bumped into him, it was because you were so lovestruck that you just walked right into him. The part he always left out, though, was the first thing he thought when he saw you. He’d scolded you before even looking up to see who you were and when he had, he wished he’d reacted a little differently. 

You were beautiful, even with coffee spilt all over yourself. You looked like a girl he’d only ever dreamed of, all the way down to the color of your hair and eyes. Unfortunately, he’d already been an asshole. So, from then on, that was basically your shtick - bickering over little things, calling each other names - all to the amusement of everyone around you. It wasn’t meant to be funny, but it was obvious to everyone else that the kind of teasing you did was only because you had feelings for one another - like two elementary school kids - and neither one of you seemed to know how to approach it. The mask would slip sometimes for either one of you - when he’d place a hand on your lower back, the times he’d managed to pin you to the mat during training - and you’d always find yourself staring at the ceiling that night, overthinking every interaction you’d had until the sun came up. He was never any better off, pacing in his room to try and decipher what the hell it was he actually felt for you.

Anyway, you decided to stick to the real story, minus the part where you insulted each other.

“We bumped into each other, literally, and I had coffee and a bunch of books in my arms. So, I drop the books, coffee spills everywhere - of course. Then I looked up at him, and..” you paused, the truth caught in a lump in your throat.

“And it was love at first sight,” Logan added, grinning down at you, “for both of us.”

His eyes were trained on yours and he continued to contribute to the story.

“The second I saw her, I fell in love.”

He was still looking at you. Why was he still looking at you like that? You were supposed to be husband and wife, right, but he was leaning into it far heavier than you expected. It felt like you were the only ones in the room.

A couple ‘aw’s were shared between guests and you smiled politely at the reminder that you were in fact not the only people in the room. As the conversation switched to another topic and someone else began to speak, you felt Logan’s hand at the back of your head, gently playing with your hair. Your face was pink - he was being too nice.

A short while later, you were sitting on the couch beside him, listening to someone’s drawn out story that you stopped paying attention to after six minutes.

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Logan uttered unceremoniously and stood from the couch. He disappeared into the house and not even a minute later, another guy came to sit in his spot.

“Hey,” he put his arm around the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing your shoulder, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

You looked at the fingers grazing your shoulder and sat forward to shrug them off, “nope.”

He told you his name and you couldn’t have cared any less, deciding to actually tune back into the story being told rather than converse with him. He was alright looking, but his approach was far too off putting. 

“So, did you come alone?”

You rolled your eyes at his question, opening your mouth to answer before he cut you off.

“Cause It looks like it, and I can’t stand to see a pretty girl alone.”

You groaned in disgust, hoping if you were dry enough in your answers, he’d leave you be.

“mhm.”

It wasn’t really an answer to anything, just a noise of affirmation. You hoped he’d get the hint then, but of course, he didn’t. In what would probably be the stupidest thing he’d done that night, the guy moved his arm from the back of the couch so he could squeeze your thigh. Right as you were about to tell him to fuck off, you saw a hand grip his shoulder from behind. Logan was leaning over the sofa, bringing his face a little lower so he wouldn’t cause a scene, his dog tags hanging when he leaned forward. He had a death grip on the guy's shoulder while he used his other hand to steady himself against the sofa. 

“Hey, bub.”

The guy looked a little terrified, to say the least, but Logan didn’t let up there.

“Do you always go around hittin’ on people’s wives? Or is it just mine?”

His eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted to run but that wasn’t going to happen as long as he was in his grip. 

“I-I didn’t, uh, I didn’t know she - “ the guy sputtered, trying to nervously laugh it off.

“Mhm. Hey, tell you what - why don’t you leave my girl alone and maybe I’ll give you a five minute head start to get the fuck out of here.”

He let go of his shoulder and that was enough to drive him away, the guy scurrying to his feet and finding somewhere else to mingle.

You didn’t know why you found yourself smiling the moment he’d said ‘my girl’. You rid yourself of it with a shake of your head, reminding yourself you were there to do a job.

“Hey,” Logan leaned himself down even further so he could whisper, “I gotta show you something, c’mere.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him but got up to follow. He stopped in the hallway in front of the bathroom, looked around to see if anyone would notice you, and promptly dragged you in with him before closing and locking the door. He hit the light switch and you looked around.

“Do you always take girls to the bathroom on first dates?” you teased, crossing your arms.

“You’d have to go out with me to find out,” he remarked, “besides, it’s not like that. Look.”

You watched him get low to the ground to open the cupboard under the sink and you crouched with him, following his pointing finger to the wood paneling in the back. It looked like a fake back - a board that appeared to be the back of the cabinet but definitely had something behind it. There was a sliver of metal visible behind it when you shined your phone’s flashlight.

“I figured we should look everywhere, so while I was in here I was checking it out - saw that. You think that’s it?”

“Could be,” you answered honestly, “that, or it’s some sort of electrical box we’re about to rip out of the wall. It’s an odd hiding spot for a safe.”

“Not really. Think about it - where's the first place you’d look for a safe?”

“Bedroom or office, maybe.”

“Right, and where's one of the last places you’d check?” he gestured to the open cabinet.

“Under…the sink,” you realized aloud, looking between him and the wooden board. 

“Exactly,” he nodded, swiping the contents of the cabinet onto the floor to gain access, “here’s the thing, though - I’m too big to get in there.”

He could maybe stick his head in, but in order to duck under the pipes from the sink, he’d need to have shoulders that were much less broad.

You sighed, knowing what that meant.

“Alright, alright - move. This better be it.”

You reluctantly crawled under the sink and into the cabinet on your hands and knees. You yanked the wooden board with all your strength and it came free, revealing a metal safe.

“Got it! You were right, it’s the safe.”

Logan simply hummed in response, clearing his throat. You figured he’d be a little more enthusiastic. 

Truthfully, he was too busy staring at your ass in the nice pants you were wearing to pay attention. When he heard your voice, he shook his head, as if to rid himself of the thoughts he was having about you so he could think of a response. He’d always thought you were beautiful, but seeing you all dressed up drove him a little crazy.

“Yeah? Is it locked?”

You inspected the metal box, holding the absurdly large padlock hooked around the latch that opened the door.

“Uh-huh. Padlock - we’re gonna need the numbers.”

“No, we don’t. Bring it out.”

You did as you were told, crawling back out with the safe under your arm and placing it on the bathroom rug. It was a pretty small one - probably a little bigger than a basketball.

Logan picked it up and set it on the counter beside the sink. He unsheathed a claw and sliced through the metal latch that held the door closed in one swift motion.

“Well, yeah - that's one way to do it,” you shrugged.

“Easiest way to do it.”

He reached in and took out the small glass vial. He put it inside the pocket of his suit jacket.

“What if it falls out?” you asked.

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Alright, kid,” he sighed, “what do you want me to do with it? ‘Cause i’m sure as hell not lettin’ you carry it.”

You rolled your eyes and looked him over.

“How about you wrap it in your jacket, like cushioning?”

“Fine.”

He reluctantly shrugged off his jacket, keeping the vial in the pocket but folding the jacket into a ball. You hastily replaced everything in the cabinet, safe included, and you followed Logan as he opened the door to step out - only to be met with another guest, her fist raised to knock.

“Oh! Dear,” she chuckled, clearly a little startled. She looked to the both of you, a grin appearing on her face, “Young love, what a gift. Don’t worry, I didn't see a thing!”

You shot her a confused look, chuckling nervously before you happened to catch a glance of your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Your hair was mussed and your blouse was untucked on one side from having to bend up and down. Logan had taken off his suit jacket and you realized what it was she was implying.

“Oh, oh - we weren’t -”

“It’s alright, honey,” she responded as you stepped out, “like I said - my lips are sealed.”

She shot you both a wink, went into the bathroom and shut the door.

“She thought we were fucking in there,” you mumbled, eyes wide in embarrassment.

“Is that so bad?”

You snapped your head towards him, a confused look on your face, “what?”

Logan shrugged, “we're supposed to be husband and wife, aren't we?”

You shook your head in disbelief and decided to ignore him, both of you joining the other guests back in the living room. Dinner was finally ready and everyone took their seats in the dining room. There were a couple of things on the table you couldn’t even pronounce.

“Is that…meat? A vegetable?” you leaned over to logan, whispering behind your hand and nodding towards one of the dishes.

“Hell if I know,” he muttered, “I don’t think I wanna find out.”

You both piled on the few things onto your plates, poking at it with your forks.

“Do you wanna get a pizza after this?” you whispered.

“Definitely,” he replied, pushing around an unrecognizable sludge with his utensil.

“So, how long did you two say you’ve been together?” You both looked up, only to be met with the hostess’ stare. You had never mentioned how long you’d been ‘together’. Her smile was polite but her stare was piercing, as if she knew something she was not supposed to.

“About three years,” you replied, looking to him for back up.

“We got married a couple months in,” he added, grinning at you. Again, he had that look - like he wasn’t just pretending to be in love with you. 

“We were in this restaurant - this little place we go to all the time,” he kept talking, “and I just told her I thought she was beautiful, that I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life.”

“Really? I have to say,” she began, sipping from her glass,” for a young couple who got together so quickly, you two don’t seem very affectionate towards each other.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You shot Logan a panicked look, but he appeared unbothered.

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue,” it’s this rule she’s got about PDA. I’d be all over her if I could.”

You hated the way your face became hot. You couldn’t tell if he was leaning into it to be convincing or flirting just to make you flustered. You heard a muffled snicker from somewhere across the table and your eyes shifted to the source - it was the woman from earlier, the one who’d thought you and Logan were getting busy in the bathroom. 

“Can I at least get a kiss, babe?” Logan cooed, a smug look on his face.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“Being a husband,” he replied in a hush voice. 

It all happened within seconds. His hands cupped your face, warm and soft, and he leaned in to plant a kiss right on your lips. It was gentle and you melted into his touch, kissing him back. When he pulled away, you were still stunned, your lips parted in surprise. 

Logan kissed you.

His lips tasted like the remnants of cigar smoke. His touch was nearly intoxicating, like you were drunk off just the way he held you. You inhaled sharply and finally turned your face out of his grip, eyes glued to the table cloth. You had almost forgotten where you were - feeling like the room was spinning - and you let out a nervous laugh.

The topic of discussion moved on quickly and it seemed like any suspicion the hostess had about either of you had dissipated. You and Logan decided to say your goodbyes immediately after dinner, making some excuse about having to wake up early the next morning. When you stepped out and he shut the door behind him, you couldn’t hold your tongue any longer.

“What the hell was that?” you spat, eyebrows knitted. 

“What was what?”

He was completely nonchalant as he continued to walk next to you towards his truck. 

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He stopped with you at the passenger side of the truck, standing in front of the door so you couldn’t get in.

“What if I wanted to?”

You swallowed hard. It was dead silent outside, save for the chirping of crickets.

“What?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, chewing his bottom lip, “I wanted to kiss you.”

You didn't know what to say. He hated you, didn’t he?

“Logan, I - “

“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything in there, pretending to be together.”

His voice almost sounded strained, like he was pleading.

“You don’t even like me, you hate me,” you deflected, but he shook his head.

“That’s not true. I never hated you. I figured you’d hate me after I acted like an asshole when we met, so I went with it. I don’t hate you. I think you’re funny, I think you’re pretty - I just never really knew how to tell you that.”

When you only stared in response, he moved aside and opened your door with a defeated sigh. You were still speechless but you hesitantly slid into the seat anyway, letting him close the door. When he got into the driver's side and started the ignition, you couldn’t stop looking over at him.

“So, you like me,” you finally said aloud.

He kept his eyes glued to the road when he responded in a low voice, “why do you think I bother you so much?”

“You pick on me because you like me? Like a little kid?” you couldn’t help the amusement in your voice as your confused expression turned to a smile.

You saw him bite back a smile that mirrored yours, shaking his head.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Well, you’re not too bad, you know, and I guess you’re kind of handsome.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Mhm, but don’t make me take it back.”

The rest of the short ride home was spent in comfortable silence, both of you seemingly trying to figure out where you’d go from there. When Logan parked his truck and got out, he came around your side to open your door. You hopped out and he shut the door for you, but grabbed your hand before you started to walk away.

“Hey, c’mere for a second.”

You let him pull you a little closer, intertwining both your hands. The evening air was chilly and you could see his breath in the air when he spoke.

“Can I kiss you, for real this time?”

You could feel your heart beating fast and you nodded eagerly. The second you did, his lips were already on yours. His hands let go of yours to settle in your hair, threading the strands between his fingers. His touch felt warm in comparison to the cold air and you leaned further into him with your hands gripping his jacket to pull him close. When he pulled away, he rested his hands on your waist and planted another kiss on your forehead. 

“Maybe we could, uh, try again,” he cleared his throat, running his hands up and down your sides, “be nice to each other this time.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t hate Logan, even though you tried. 

You couldn’t hate his perfect hair.

You couldn’t hate his sweet voice.

You couldn’t hate his kind smile.

You couldn’t hate the way he dressed.

You just couldn’t hate Logan Howlett. 

So, you kissed him again, smiling against his lips and letting him hold you as close as possible, almost lifting you off the ground with his arms around you.

“We should probably go inside, huh?” you mumbled when you leaned back, lightly scratching the mutton chops on the side of his face in an affectionate manner. Those were another thing you’d pretended to hate - probably because you were embarrassed to admit you thought he pulled them off well.

“As you wish, Mrs. Smith.”

He held his hand out for you to take and you did, eyeing the ring on your finger.

“You know,” you held up your hand to show him the jewelry, “I think i’ll keep this.”

He grinned, bringing your knuckles to his lips and leaving a chaste kiss, “I think i'll keep mine, too.”

You were both still holding hands when you went inside, blushing like two little kids. You were so engrossed in one another that you didn’t notice Jean and Ororo in the hallway ahead of you as he leaned down to kiss you again. Now that he knew he could actually do it, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll take it your night went well,” Ororo giggled, Jean doing the same. You jumped a little in surprise, covering your pink face in mild embarrassment. 

“What changed? I thought you hated each other,” the latter of the two asked.

“Eh, he’s not so bad,” you teased, shrugging your shoulders.

‘’Turns out, we make a pretty good fake husband and wife,” he explained, “I guess we got a little too carried away with it.”

As the two of you walked hand in hand further down the hall, Ororo elbowed Jean lightly, leaning over to whisper behind her hand.

“You owe me twenty bucks.”

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

A/N: If you've made it this far, thank you sm for reading!! I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep this as is or add smut so I'll leave it how it is and if enough people ask for it, I can make a part two <3 pls reblog and like if you enjoyed/want more and my inbox is always open :)

Edit: here is the link to part 2!

[kathaynesart]

It is done! *falls down*

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I have... so much to say on so many different things but it is 2:30 in the morning so I will keep this as brief as possible. First off, thank you to all my mom friends and mutuals who helped me with accurately portraying and normalizing the experience of giving birth. It is wonderful, and painful, and gross, and beautiful. I apologize if it made any readers squeamish (and I know there were a few gross jokes in there) but considering how gross the tv show got, I think it remained true to the overall vibe!

Second, I wanted to talk about the concept of "hope" in this story. When I first watched the movie, I felt like the idea of hope being their greatest weapon seemed sort of heavy handed and cheesy. However, after watching the ending of the show again I realized that hope is actually a huge reoccurring element in the story and a big part of what it means to be of the Hamato clan. Doubly so, I wanted Casey Junior in a way to symbolize that hope for Leo specifically, so when Leo talks about hope in the beginning of the movie, he's not just talking about some vague concept, but Casey Junior himself. He is their greatest weapon and he doesn't even realize it.

Thirdly, so uh... Casey Junior. I apologize if it had seemed out of left field, but do know that the decision of his origins was not made lightly. The shear similarity in his facial structure to Lou Jitsu as well as several other factors that I will refrain from stating due to future spoilers was too numerous to ignore! It is an integral part of his story for reasons that will go unsaid for now, and no, he does not know he's distantly related to them. Also, Big Mama! Been holding onto her concept for some time now! I loved the idea of her mystic broach becoming damaged so she can only be cloaked to a certain degree, making for an interesting blend of both her forms. She was really fun to figure out!

Finally thank you everyone for your patience. This special turned into quite the endeavor with most of the updates exceeding 20 pages each, but I'm so happy I was able to finish it... even if it did take so much longer than my projected hope. I can't wait to get back to the main storyline, though I shall miss these silly, overpowered boys. We got a lot of ground to cover and I'll likely be posting a summarized reminder before continuing. ...and after I finish work on some Zines and the holiday special winning commission!

[ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes]

I am once again baffled by peoples bad takes online

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Hooking your Readers

Hook—The first line, lines, or paragraph meant to grab the reader’s attention

For most people, a night out at the movies includes sitting through the coming attractions. We watch these short bursts of scenes that scare us, intrigue us, make us laugh, and sometimes nearly bring us to tears. No matter the preview, though, if it looks good, we want to go see the movie. An effective “hook” in your story works the same way. You want to grab your reader right away and compel them to continue reading.

Some common strategies for creating a hook & examples:

Anecdote: My hands shook and beads of sweat rolled down my face. I double-checked the directions before assembling my tools and turning up the heat. Making lasagna shouldn’t have been this stressful, but in my grandmother’s kitchen, the stakes were a little higher. 

Direct quote: “Be open and use the world around you.” Toni Morrison gives this advice about the craft of writing, but I find that it applies to most areas of my life.

General statement or truth: Every child, no matter how sheltered or well-adjusted, will experience fear. Whether they are scared of the monster under the bed or the neighbor’s barking dog, children experience fear as a normal and healthy part of childhood.

History: On Wednesday, August 28, 1963, thousands traveled to Washington D.C. by road, rail, and air. There were demonstrators of all races, creeds, and genders. Unafraid of the intimidation and violence they faced, they demonstrated for the rights of all. Known as The Great March on Washington, this day marked an important turning point in the Civil Rights Movement in the United States.

Metaphor: Stretched out in a sunbeam, my cat may seem timid, but really, she’s a lion. She will stealthily stalk her prey, attack without mercy, and leave a trail of blood and guts in her wake. Afterward, as she grooms her luxurious mane, she shows no remorse.

Scene or illustration: Shadows stretch across the pavement as jack-o-lanterns flicker in windows. Little trick-or-treaters scamper from porch to porch, filling their bags with various forms of sugar. It is the day dentists dread most: Halloween.

Sensory description: The stale smell of cigarettes engulfed me as I stepped into the dim, silent apartment. The heat had been turned off, so I could see my breath fog in front of me as I carefully stepped over the old pizza boxes, overturned cups, and random pieces of paper strewn across the floor.

Startling statistic or statement: Teenage drivers crash their cars at nearly ten times the rate of older drivers.

More: Writing Notes & References

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

john green quit tumblr because of the cock monologue

No, he didn’t.

This all happened a long time ago, and my memory is imperfect, but here’s my memory: The cock monologue certainly hurt my feelings! But when people are trying to force someone out of a virtual space, they sometimes resort to behavior that is similar to bullying except it’s not completely identical to bullying because the person they’re making fun of has a lot of power. (As someone who got bullied a lot in school, the feeling was similar in 2014 but it wasn’t identical--because I was aware of the fact that I was okay, that what was in danger was certain aspects of my identity/self-value that I treasured but not my entire personhood itself.)

Anyway, it hurt my feelings, and still hurts my feelings when I see it shared (it feels to me like a joke about my sexuality, although I understand other people don’t see it that way; but yeah, you don’t know much about my sexuality and I don’t really want you to but it feels like a joke about that to me, which just bums me out). 

But all of that stuff is a side effect of my job and having been successful at it, and I like my job. It is a great job. All jobs have aspects that suck. My job has fewer such aspects than other jobs I’ve had.

So yeah, I did not quit tumblr because of the cock monologue. (I also did not ask tumblr to make reblogs un-editable.) .

I quit tumblr because a few people started to make extremely specific threats. One might, for instance, send me an ask that featured a google streetview screenshot of my home alongside a plan for breaking into it.

I was super scared of these people (or possible person pretending to be a few people?) because they seemed to have a lot of knowledge about me and my family. We lived in a normal middle-class neighborhood in Indianapolis and I felt very exposed and nervous all the time in my real life, and eventually the freaked-out feeling just got too big and that’s why I quit tumblr.

(Edited to add: I am aware that prominent people sometimes use death threats against them to portray themselves as victims and protect themselves against justified criticism for their bigotry or abusive behavior or whatever. I don’t want to do that; it’s important to note that I have a lot of resources and power and so was able to, for instance, move to decrease the threat, which a lot of people can’t do. But I also feel like not talking about the experience honestly has not really helped me or anyone.)

I SHOULD’VE quit tumblr much earlier--I needed to realize that people weren’t comfortable with me in their virtual spaces and that to them I came across as cringey or even creepy, but at the time, I wasn’t nearly self-aware enough to leave for any of those reasons, and plus there was a lot of pressure from movie studios etc to stay on the social Internet so I could continue to promote my books and the stuff around them. So I didn’t quit when I should’ve, and as a result had and caused quite a few negative experiences for people. I’m sorry about the role I had in causing those negative experiences. I should’ve had a better understanding of not just how I experienced myself but also how other people might experience me. That’s something i’ve worked on over the years but still come up short on sometimes.

At any rate, I might delete this later because it makes me feel a bit like all my nerves are exposed to the air but I did just want to clarify that the, like, Tumblr Legend of this whole thing is at minimum a bit over simplified. 

[nochepsicodelica]

Toji coming home late from a job, exhausted and knowing he messed up with you, again. All he wants is to be comforted by your warm body and to hear you talk his ear off before going to bed together, but instead he finds you fast asleep on the couch. He watches your curled up frame for a minute or two, feeling the achey heaviness of guilt in his chest. He promised you a movie, but things at work didn't go as smoothly as they normally do, and because of it, he's home later than he thought he would be. He doesn't blame you at all for losing your patience and succumbing to your tiredness, rather than fighting it, for his sake.

He smiles softly, admiring the bliss in your features, before quietly heading off to the bedroom to grab some clothes so he can tidy up before he even thinks about touching you.

Toji sees your shower products next to his, and though he doesn't plan on putting them on, like he has before in a state of longing for you, he does pick them up to take a whiff. The smells are as sweet and comforting as you. They help him wind down a little more after the day he's had. Your shampoo and body wash managed to distract him a bit. He stood there frozen, thinking of you as water cascaded down his body, until he remembered that you're in the house, sleeping on the couch, still waiting to see him. He expedites his shower, quickly gets dressed, and hurries up with his hygiene routine so he can get back to you.

When Toji returns, you're in a new position with your limbs all sprawled out. He watches you for another minute or so— you are the image of pure comfort on that old couch. Just being next to you could pass on the effect to him, but you're so enticing, and he really wants to be in that bubble of serenity with you. Before his proper judgement convinces him to carry you to bed, he's crawling between your legs, his eyes on yours the entire time, to make sure he doesn't wake you before he even starts adding his weight onto you.

Your sleep ridden eyes feel heavy as you peer them open and look at the man nuzzling himself into you. You hear the smallest little groans, almost like purring, as Toji continues to try and mold his body into yours. He knows he doesn't fit with you on this tiny couch, but you're so warm, and you smell like the body wash he inhaled in the shower. He's going to make it work.

"Hey, Toji," you mumble, dazedly, still half asleep. He almost melts at the feeling of your fingers running through his damp hair, your nails gently scratching his scalp with every passing. Your other arm comes up to rest on his back. He then realizes he's not close enough. Being right on top of you, with his head on your chest... Not close enough.

"What?" You laugh when Toji starts shifting again, those soft hums returning as he presses himself into you even more. He wants to be greedy and take all the comfort you can possibly give him. "Did you..." you giggle when he settles, his face buried in your neck. "Did you miss me?"

"Miss" is an understatement. Toji was ready to come home and cozy up in bed with you. He was ready to distract you from whatever movie you decided on, with kisses. He was ready for things to evolve into something more. He thought about this all day, and he's home now, and it's not at all what he thought it would be. The sad part is, you're not even mentioning these ruined plans. You're not upset with him for being home so late, you're not giving him the cold shoulder. You're the same loving girl he discussed these plans with in the morning and it makes him feel like a total asshole.

"Mhm. Are you comfortable sleeping like this? I can't move."

"Yes, Toji," you respond, immediately, though you know he's exaggerating. The question lures a soft laugh out of you. "You're acting like this is the first time you've ever plopped yourself down on me."

"Just making sure, doll, 'cause I don't wanna move," he says, with total honesty this time.

"You don't have to. You're the warmest blanket in this house. I scored by getting crushed."

"Yeah? I'm flattered." You can hear the smirk in his voice so clearly.

"And i'm flattened."

Silence. Crickets in the background. Everything is so still, you could hear a pin drop, and to make matters worse, you laughed at your own joke.

"I should go back to sleep," you say, knowing that when your nonsensical thoughts start spilling out, it's time to get some rest.

Toji's grin has yet to straighten out. He can tell you're still tired. He laughs, a sharp breath through his nose, at your ridiculousness. "Silly girl. Are you cold?"

"Impossible. I have a bear on top of me."

"Want me to go get the blanket? Wanna go to the room?"

"Stooooop, i'm fine." You kiss to the top of his head. "Goodnight, Toji."

"Can you do that thing you always do?"

Without a word, your hand goes to the back of his head, and your fingers begin coursing through his hair, again, your nails dragging gently along his scalp, like before.

Toji sighs, contented and entirely at ease. "'night, doll."

[silverskyeline]

'hunger' 18+

worst!wolverine x f!reader (3.9k words) summary: logan can't tear his mind away from the new barmaid at his usual haunt. he tries to resist you, he really does. but when you're both alone in the bathroom, he finds he's not the only one plagued with filthy thoughts. tags: for the 'longing' prompt for logan promptober, set in the bar from the movie, kind of angsty, filthy, pent up logan, alcohol consumption, doggy style, creampie, biting, light choking, pinning wrists, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, implied age gap, sweet ending.

his usual haunts offer comfort, safe nests tucked away down isolated roads, usually requiring quite the drive to find - it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

time spent staring into the grain of the old wood on the bar wondering how the fuck he ended up here. he'd stopped keeping count a long time ago, how long he'd been around, been alive. things get kind of hazy after two hundred years. logan had no reason to keep count.

until he saw you.

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

he's sat at the bar when the bartender clocks off, switching with someone new, someone he'd never seen before. you walk in and his eyes immediately scan your face, your build, your outfit. it's a habit of his, one he hoped he'd grow out of - but logan has learned that he'll never stop assessing for new threats. it's just in his dna.

but what he finds isn't a threat.

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls. he drags his eyes back down to his glass like he's forcing himself to look down the barrel of a gun rather than looking at you, before settling on you once more.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

. . . but what harm can looking do?

a few weeks pass, logan notices you're in every few nights from now on, must have been put on the regular rota. he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

you've never noticed him, or at least, he's never caught you looking in his direction. but he finds himself craving it, willing your eyes to meet his even for a second. the extent of your interactions have been sliding a glass or a bottle in his direction before continuing with your other duties.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . . though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless.

he is an animal, after all.

he wonders if he should switch bars just to distance himself. he couldn't let himself become comfortable with the idea of you. relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it.

fuck.

logan curses himself under his breath for even having this internal debate. you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy. he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything.

he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

no, he finds himself shaking his head as he stands from the bar. he'd take a leak, and leave early. it'd only been a month since he first saw you, he could get over this. switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

the bathroom door swings open and he walks inside, situating himself at one of the urinals. a few moments later, the door swings open again, logan doesn't bother to look over.

"oh, thought these were empty, sorry."

his head turns quickly. it's you, mop in hand. there's an uncomfortable silence that follows.

speak, fucking speak. "it's fine."

you pause, then nod a little and begin mopping the floor.

his eyes are back on the urinal, swallowing hard. was this really going to be your first conversation? with his eyes glaring into old porcelain, dick in his hand? he tries not to picture you stealing glances at him, but he can't help it. is that what he wants?

maybe.

finishing up, he quickly makes his way over to the sinks, pushing his hands under the cool water and rubbing with soap. his eyes flit up to the mirror. and he catches you.

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again.

but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

"all done," you say with a sigh after a few moments, standing straight and gripping the mop but making no effort to leave just yet.

logan eyes you in the mirror, watches how your eyes dance across the room before inevitably landing on him again. he turns to face you, noting the distance between you both in the room.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

you rest your mop against the wall, "you're in here often." you state, it's not a question.

"guess i'm a regular," he replies curtly.

swallowing hard, you continue, "i noticed. i always have to restock the whisky when you come by."

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

"i like a drink." he says with a subtle shrug, just a step away now, eyes never leaving yours.

a small smile tugs at your lips, "i know."

you're not sure what you're really doing. you're supposed to be on shift, designated five minutes to clean the bathrooms. five minutes you'd much rather spend doing someone something else.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome.

no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

you're not sure when or how it happened, but he's right in front of you now, his body almost touching yours. you look up at him with a feigned innocent look.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me."

logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?"

"yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious."

he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

your hands snake down, finding his belt buckle and brazingly begin to unbuckle it. he watches you, eyes fixated on the way your fingers move. he swears he's about to start drooling. but then you move, hands winding up to the buttons on his shirt. you splay your hands across the fabric, eyes widening when you feel what's underneath.

"are you. . . is that-"

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up. he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

he moans, relishing the taste of you, the taste he's thought about for so fucking long. he brings your hands up, pinning them above your head, shifting his grip so one hand easily pins your wrists, leaving his other hand free.

his free hand plants firmly across your upper chest, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your collarbone as he explores your mouth with his tongue. you're lost in the sensation, knees going weak as you allow the older man to have his way with you. he needs this, you know it.

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?"

you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you. his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

the kiss grows in intensity, you wonder how long it's been since he's kissed someone. he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

his hand on your neck gives a gentle squeeze before running down your torso, palming at your jeans suddenly. you try to whimper in pleasure, but he's silencing you with his lips again.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet." logan can feel the material of your jeans begin to damp and he resists the urge to growl, feeling the way the fabric beneath gives way.

you nod, whispering small affirmatives as he touches you through the material. "just give me more," you whine.

and that spurs him on. in a flash he's pushing you into the stall, stealing a few more kisses where he can before he turns you, pushing your back against his chest. his lips find your neck, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along the skin he finds there.

you're like putty in his hands, melting back against him as his hand returns to your crotch, rough hands massaging circles against your clothed core. you resist a moan, exhaling shakily instead as you let him use you.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

you nod quickly as you feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

"yeah, thought so," he nibbles on your earlobe, breathing deeply through his nose as he tries to steady himself, preserve the moment. but how can he when you feel this good beneath his fingers, taste this good on his tongue? "tell me you want it."

"want you to fuck me," you whimper almost immediately, suddenly feeling so very needy. there's a hot ache growing between your legs, one you're desperate for him to fill.

logan laughs, "you can do better than that, honey, know you can."

"please," your voice cracks and you swallow back moans as you squirm beneath his touch, "please fuck me-" it becomes apparent to you at that moment that you don't even know his name. your cheeks flush at the thought of letting this stranger, this older man fuck you in the bar bathroom, but actually, you kind of like it that way.

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

with that, he pushes you forward, forcing your hands onto the tank of the toilet to support yourself as he bends you over. his hands find your waist, his hips connecting with yours and slowly grinding his very apparent, large bulge against you.

you let out a whimper, arching your back a little at the sudden contact.

"feel that?" he mumbles, guiding your hips to grind back against him, "feel what you do to me?"

a gasp, "fuck, you're big." you can already tell, the way his bulge is pressing against you, demanding to be felt. you swear you can almost feel it throb through the material.

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it.

pulling back slightly, he roughly pulls your jeans down, practically manhandling you, your underwear disappearing with it. he grabs handfuls of your ass before kneading the skin. "look at that, pretty little ass, all for me."

you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar. "f-fuck!" you whine, feeling the sharp sting, knowing there's a bright red imprint in the shape of his large palm on your ass.

there's some jingling, the sound of his belt being moved out of the way, a zipper. you prepare yourself, or at least you try to, but his cock is already slapping against your backside before you have time to steady your hazy mind.

"you gonna take all of me?" he asks, biting his lip as his aching length slaps against your skin, "think you can?"

you nod quickly, looking over your shoulder at him, "mhm!"

"if you say so. . ." he smirks and positions himself, one hand on your hip and one aiming his cock at your tight little hole.

then, all at once he's sinking in. you gasp, he gasps. and fuck, he is big. you feel that sweet stretch, his cock throbbing against your tight walls as it slowly glides inside. you're whining as it slowly fills you, eyes rolling back at the sensation. but he pulls out a little, only to push back in again.

he's working you up just right, mesmerised by the way you take his cock. his eyes are fixed on your tight hole begging him to enter, loving the slick sound as it pushes inside.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

despite the way your cheeks flush bright red, you can't deny it. you've thought about it more than once, fantasised about it in bed, hoping that one day that stranger from the bar would fuck you so good you forget your own name.

you don't need to reply either, because he knows. he knows from the way your wet hole flutters around him, and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has. he begins to pump into you at a leisurely pace, firm hands on your hips.

"holy fuck, so fuckin' tight," logan grumbles, his deep slow strokes hitting you deep as he bottoms out inside of you.

you try to turn your head, to look up at him, but he grasps the back of your hair, pushing your head down. "nu-uh, keep that head down."

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it. he'll take you, just like this, with your head down and your ass up and his cock buried deep inside you.

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

you feel his thrusts grow rougher, your legs slipping apart as you attempt to hold yourself up, hands planted firmly on the tank of the toilet. you're squeaking softly with each pump, feeling him use you to release his pent-up frustrations. and it felt so fucking good.

with his firm grip on your hair tightening by the second and his other large hand digging into your hip, you begin to bounce back against his motions, sending him even deeper. you both moan in sync with the feeling and you pant softly, cheeks flushing further at the soft 'plap plap plap' of his hips connecting with you, the sound reverberating around the small cubicle.

"that feels so fucking good," you sing, closing your eyes. logan gives a particularly hard thrust, speed picking up. you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh? "keep fuckin' me, just like that, so good. . ."

he groans, wrapping your hair around his fist as he relentlessly pounds into you. harder and harder, deeper and deeper, you're sure you'll have bruises littered over your body before the day is through.

"harder!" you cry, feeling your legs tremble. you're not gonna last long like this, and by the way his cock is twitching inside of you, he isn't either. "i'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum!"

another groan slips from his lips, gritting his teeth as he uses you, watching you take his throbbing cock beneath him. "look so pretty like this, bent over, takin' what i fuckin- shit. . . takin' what i give you."

your body grows hotter, sweat forming on your forehead, each impact pushing you forward roughly. you're really not gonna last long.

he begins to hunch over, his chest flush with your back as he huffs against your neck, fucking you like a rabid animal. you're squealing now, the pleasure swirling in your lower stomach, threatening to send you crashing into bliss. at this point, you don't fucking care if someone walks in and finds you like this, sees his feet planted behind yours underneath the stall. in fact, the thought of the risk sends a bolt straight to your gut.

"yes yes yes," you mutter, feeling your orgasm approaching steadily. you swear you can feel him in your guts. you begin to flutter around him, begging for release, knowing it's going to completely destroy you.

logan can't even form words, just grunts slipping from his lips against the side of your neck. and then he feels it, his cock twitches, his mind reeling with the imminent release. he needs this, oh he fucking needs this.

he bites down on your neck, teeth sinking in slightly as he feels himself release deep inside you, his cum spilling out in strong waves. you feel your knees buckle, but a strong hand planted on your tummy helps keep you upright as he fucks his release deeper into you.

the animalistic nature of his thrusts combined with the sensation of his hot cum painting your insides sends you flying over the edge, your orgasm milking him as you clamp around his aching cock. he slams his hand against the stall wall with a loud metallic bang, splaying his fingers across the metal as if to ground himself as his thrusts falter.

his tongue lazily licks the indents of his bite mark against your neck, groans easing their way from the back of his throat. you can hardly catch your breath, legs still shaking from such an intense release. it's hard to think straight with his dick still buried deep inside, feeling it twitch with every aftershock.

you both stay like that for a solid minute, panting, coming down together. he's planting soft kisses along your neck as your breath slowly comes back to you.

he pulls out, stepping back as he stuffs himself into his jeans. you collapse onto the toilet seat, shakily pulling your jeans and underwear back up as you look up at him. it's clear he's looking to leave, a distant look in his eye, maybe a little shame creeping into his features.

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

you pull back, buttoning your own jeans as you continue to look up at him. ". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

and there it is, a small smirk on his lips as he glances away. "maybe."

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

"i'll see you tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head.

he blinks, suddenly remembering time exists outside this small space seemingly crafted just for the two of you. "yeah," he says, quietly.

"good," you pat his chest before moving past him, leaving the stall. you stand, looking back at him. a beat, "or, you can meet me after my shift ends?"

his eyes widen, taken aback. fuck, had he forgotten how to do this? his eyes flit to the side, before making up his mind. he gives a firm nod.

you smile before leaving him in the bathroom, returning to the bar through the door.

logan stands there for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair. he smooths down his shirt, feeling the suit beneath, a stark reminder always of his past.

but maybe he could begin to take a few steps forward. maybe he deserves more than to suffer forever, forced to keep everyone at arm's length. maybe he could allow himself this small happiness, a date, or whatever this was.

maybe it was time to satisfy his hunger, his loneliness, for good.