#cry into his chest maybe
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i think we as a society don't acknowledge boxer!aki from ch. 46 enough
when he gets animated..... huuu...... uuuuu... godddddd I can't muster a single coherent thought like JUST LOOK AT HIM......
and the way aki fought this guy who looks way more buff than him but aki didn't even break a sweat!!! aki doesn't even look tired!!!!!! he's so lean and tall and pretty in that one panel like what if I just died fyfucikkkk
#I really need to reread the chainsaw man manga#manga aki is just... so close to my heart... like you wouldn't believe#like it's all aki and he's so precious to me#but compared to the anime... manga aki is like........ my baby#I just look at him and I feel this very strong uncontrollable instinct#to hug him tightly and rock him back and forth and cry#cry into his chest maybe#he's so lovely and now it's been a few years so he reminds me of such happy times#he's so beautiful so beautiful so beautiful#guys I forgot to take. my pills and it made my hormones go crazy and now I'm filled with emotion#anon I'm sorry for hijacking your super old ask to rant about my affections for aki but I love you and I see you#boxer aki is everything#ask mags
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When your brother wants to betray the powerful demon king you both work for but you know that's NOT going to end well so you try to convince him not to do it but he's also seen those LUSTFUL gazes you do to said demon and calls you out
#svsss#shang qinghua#original shang qinghua#Shang Twins#Shang twins AU#scum villian self saving system#scum villains self saving system#scum villain's self saving system#sqh#implied Moshang#OG Shang Qinghua: You just love his chest thats the only reason you want me to not do it#Shang Qinghua: THERES MORE REASONS BUT I CANT DENY THAT IS ONE OF THEM#I think they'd get into some insane stuff together#mobei also is put off by the twin he prefers the wimpy scared crying one over the one that just point blank stares at him#I also like to think in this au Svsss Shang Qinghua is still scarily great at managing his peak/ the kingdom#maybe they both run the peak together#who knows#my art#nibbelraz#shang brothers
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There's something very interesting to me about the fact that Boboiboy consistently calls Yaya "Mimi" during his memory loss episodes
Clearly, he still has some memory, and there's something compelling him to believe her name is Mimi when he can't remember it's Yaya, something that happens even when they first met
And it's conveniently the same name as his old cat.
Maybe Boboiboy looked at her and was like "oh she's like Mimi" for whatever reason and it just stuck in his brain
#maybe yaya brings a sense of comfort just as his cat did#while also proceeding to do something utterly batshxt#“hey why do you call me mimi all the time”#“oh it's cause i had this cat named mimi i really loved her she laid on my chest when i got anxious”#*image of yaya crying*#do you see my vision#boboiboy#yaya yah#boboiboy galaxy#boboiboy galaxy season 2#bbb#bbbg#bbbglxs2#boboiboy season 1
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anyway what if Daniel catches up with armand and he holds Armand's face in both hands and he asks is it quiet now
#well I thibk armand would shove his face into Daniel's chest and clutch his shirt with both hands and maybe cry a little#but in any event he will not be moving for five to seven business hours. sorry Daniel
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"I don't think I have anymore hard nos" EXCUSE ME MR. O'BRIEN CAN WE TAKE THAT BACK A SECOND
#silver sending stones#cr 3 e 60#im going to cry#orym of the air ashari#i was talking to a friend about orym and how hes just a good dude. and how he just. was living his life. loving hus husband. protecting his#leader. he was just. happy. and then his whole life was taken from him. his husband his father his sense if safety at home. all gone in a#moment. and he wandered for a bit. and he mourned. he mourned for six years. because how do you go on living when your future was torn from#you?#and then he met these people. all five of them so different from anyone he ever met before. even the impressive people in high places. these#new people they... they have a moment to them. they have a path and a destiny. and maybe thats what orym needed. a direction. a wind to ride#it was only after them that it seemed his own destiny called him. if he could call it that. hed hate to think that his deatiny included his#husband having to die. a start of his distaste for destiny.#idk... orym and i seem to think about that moment where he put a sword to Dorian's chest every day.#i dont think exu orym would recognize modern day orym#and idk how orym feels about that#anyone can justify anything with “i did what had to be done”#i wonder...#okay tags longer than the post again bye
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last night, my dream wasnt clear if wolfwood was my brother or my best friend from childhood but i had a vision where he would get impaled by several crosses and die a horrible death like that. so i desperately tore off every cross he had on him but realized that there was one that he would never let me take away. and as i knelt there breaking down, he tried to comfort me saying “its okay its okay” knowing that he would die. and then i woke up. and i have to live with that memory.
#doodles#fanart#trigun#nicholas d. wolfwood#it me#there was a rosary two cuff links and the rest of his coat buttons.#i woke up with that ache in your chest you get from crying a lot. it was horrible.#idk if he was my biological brother but what really mattered was that we were inseparable and i couldnt fathom living without him.#i put emphasis on him maybe being my brother brother because he gave off the same energy my older brother does#i cant describe it. His Aura. when im around my older brother theres a certain feeling i get. its a weird staticy feeling. on the inside.#around my brain and my chest.#anyways.#edit: THIS FUCKING HAPPENED???? vision of a vision im losing my mind.#<- still reading the manga
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...
#oh lads. its not looking good for my genomics exam on Thursday. its all fucked#i dunno. its just been a weird day. bc one of my lab mates is getting ready to go to the astr0biology science conference#and its just so wild how i got here. into the perfect position. i have a great advisor. a great phd project. a committee member who is super#integrated with n4sa astr0biology projects. and so many of the instructors are amazing. my genomics prof is terrifyingly smart#so is my advisor and his wife. and the program is great. ecology and Evolution. its perfect. its all perfect#and yet. and yet. it just feels like its all falling apart. ive lost that compulsive thing thats always set in my chest#and now all i want to do is lay on the floor and cry and sleep and not do anything. why am i so tired?#its just so frustrating. and im sure ive got the most wretched vibes bc im constantly like 1 comment away from bursting into tears#like 2 weeks and its done. then im off to find a summer job. and find a long term job. and consider throwing away everything ive ever worked#toward. just let it all burn. im so tired. and i dont get to see my therapist until Monday. thats gonna b fun#hi. hello. since last i saw you my life has crumbled into pieces. ugh. i just dont wanna fail this genomics exam but it looks like that's#where we're headed. maybe i should have just dipped out of these last 3 weeks. but no. i didnt want to leave the lady i ta for 100 lab#reports to unexpectedly have to grade 4 days before grades are due. ugh. itll b fine. i mean it wont but whatever#unrelated
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i feel sick
#every time i think im over her#that she cant hurt me anymore#days like tuesday happen and i miss her so fucking much#i just want my mom#not this narcissist that replaced her when i was 11#i know she was like this before just to my dad#but i just want the mom that drove me to school every morning and took me to seaworld and the schools pta game night and did pizza fridays#i want to call her and hug her and have her tell me that its all going to be alright#but it wont#and that mom doesnt exist#maybe she never did#fuck i cant do this anymore#i was doing so fucking well#i was so fucking happy#why did she have to ruin it with her 40 essay-texts and email stalking?#and the boys are home now too#and i have to act like their mother didnt just force her way back into my life to bring up memories that make me want to claw my chest open#i have to act happy as my youngest brother gets his phone blown up with texts i know are from her#when i know that shes targeting him now that i left#like she did to me when my dad left her when i was 11#i cant do this anymore#i just cant#i cant spend my days throwing up in the school bathroom and crying myself to sleep and burying myself in shows to not feel anything real#i keep feeling like the other shoe is going to drop#that shes going to come to my college and tell her lies to everyone and ill lose all my friends and everyone who matters to me#and i cant even block her because she controls my fucking health insurance#the last time i talked to her she threatened to file for conservatorship#i cant do that
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#on the train home from my boyfriend's place in the late afternoon sunlight. all the fields of wheat look golden.#i had a dream last night where i was carrying an infant son on my hip and he had a crown of dark curly hair#i woke up with a strange feeling in my stomach and an insatiable craving for a food i rarely eat#though i'm sure that the symptoms of early pregnancy and the after effects of drinking very heavily for 4 days are very similar#the sun makes me miss my beloved.#i've only just waved goodbye to him and pressed my hand against the glass of the train window to meet his on the other side.#he makes me feel so loved. i feel proud to wear his ring and that he wears mine. i have a lock of his hair & a love letter in my gold locket#the train just passed by a field full of birds of prey. grouse maybe. it went by too fast to tell but you know their shape#i feel like crying for want of him. like a woman in a greek tragedy who beats at her chest and tears her hair#love is full of so many big emotions. they don't tell you that in films. this unutterable longing that swells like the sea.#but I'll spend our time apart knowing that he's there in the world. loving me.#and that I'll be here radiating love like a furnace. enough that he can feel it across the miles.#sunlight on canal. breeze through the open window. love will find you anywhere.#Spotify
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Therapy isn't enough I need the CW to go back and re-film Season 11 to prove that Lucifer could have been saved if Michael didn't abandon him like Dean refused to abandon Sam.
#I'm old enough to know that some ideas are too cinematic and visual to be translated to fic and This Is One Of Them#Amara shows up and wants to eat Lucifer but Lucifer runs off comes back and tosses a bag of stuff for spellwork at Sam#Snaps his fingers and Devil's Dancefloor by Flogging Molly starts to play at an increasing volume#Someone comments that having a hype song is lame and Lucifer says YEAH IT'S REAL LAME ISN'T IT DEAN#Big knockdown fight between Lucifer and Amara and the spell banishes both but Lucifer manages to claw his way back#Michael!Adam clawed their way out of the cage but is living as Adam and Lucifer restores Michael's memories by giving back his blade#Michael and Lucifer working very poorly together but it reaches a head when they're trapped in a town Amara is going to literally devour#And Lucifer's like 'Oh we're both acts of God actually so one of us is going to have to destroy the other in Amara's general direction'#And Michael thinks it's a ploy and refuses and says Lucifer's so tainted he's not anything like what God made and Wow That's Mean#But Michael agrees thinking that sacrificing God's favored son will get dad to come back but Lucifer is genuinely afraid of death#Because angels don't get an afterlife so this has also been a narrative conversation about forgiveness outside of punishment and hell#But right before God does show up Michael has a hand inside Lucifer's glowing chest forcing his light in an attack beam at Amara#And Lucifer is crying screaming clawing growing weaker and Michael just stops and curls his free hand over the back of Lucifer's head#And he Regrets he realizes how long he's refused to let himself love his brother to serve his father and now it's the end#And not the end he prepared himself for but if he gets the freedom to love his brother and choose not to kill him maybe he chooses-#Ahahah Chuck's there now and 3V2 THERAPY TIME#WHO'S THAT IT'S JOHN WINCHESTER'S GHOST WITH A STEEL CHAIR#Anyway Supernatural was good when we still had narrative parallels and in every SamDean moment I am closing my eyes and seeing Them#S8 Sam during the Trials of God? Don't you mean Lucifer begging his brother to help him bear the mark before it warps him?#listen I'll shut up when someone tells me WHY DIDN'T LUCIFER GET TO GO APESHIT ABOUT DEAN DESTROYING THE MARK#LUCIFER BORE THE MARK FOR EONS SO DID CAIN THE MARK RUINED BOTH OF THEM#AND DEAN GETS TO TOSS IT AFTER A YEAR???? AND LUCIFER SAYS NOTHING??????????????????????????????#Not even a “Well now I know how Michael would have done with the mark”
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the anxiety pills arent even working :c
#maybe a little bit actually#before i took it i felt hysterical and my chest burned and i cried#now after a while i dont feel that as much#i just feel empty and hollow#im just so upset and sad#why cant he understand how much i love him and what i'd do for him#or maybe he does understand he just doesnt care about my love?#idk ... maybe i just keep hurting him? idk i jusg wish he'd tell me#and i wish .. he could see that i dont mean to hurt him. but maybe... he wants me to know and not do it? idk#anyway... the pill might've helped a little but i still cant stop thinking about it#i cant believe i was dumb enough to not learn my lesson#and that i kept venting and being crazy and aaying dumb shit#and that some of my mental breakdown vent that i dont even mean hurt him#i should've just stopped using my blog for that from the start#now he doesnt even follow me anymore.....#i know it sounds utterly silly but the fact that im not important enough for him to follow hurts so bad#i feel worthless now why do i even exist if he doesnt see me?#i get why he wants his ex though. she's x10000 better than me in every way#i wish i'd never came into his life and messed with him like that#i dont wanna hurt him and i feel so bad. i should've just left him alone and not caused a meas#mess*#fml i wanna cry i hate myself so bad
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I want to thank the lady who sat next to me when I went to see Les miserables yesterday for trying to console me when the boys were dying. It didn't work, and I ugly cried for 10 minutes straight, but it was nice of her to try
#les miserables#les miserables nl#les miserables dutch#it was amazing#i cried about 3 times during act one and 5 times during act two#i knew i was going to cry#but eponine dying never really did it for me in any other version. in this one it made me s o b#but maybe that was bc Grantaire had to physically restrain Gavroche from going to her and then Gavroche grabs the hat that falls off her#head and before giving it to marius he hugs it close to his chest#god Grantaire and Gavroche made me cry a few times#Gavroche slept in Grantaires lap and Grantaire sobbed over his body when he dies#don't come at me if i spelled any of the names wrong btw
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The other problem is the cuddles i want to write are of the "hurt/comfort while/after breaking down and sobbing a lot and needing to be taken care of" variety which is. Regrettably antithetical to cyrus' character.
#the whole reason hes Like This is that he WONT allow himself to do this#hes always tried to keep a stiff upper chin in the face of fear and sadness and loss#but also i think specifically not being able to grieve for carver did a number#on his willingness to cry in front of others#with the exception of a few Stoic Tears (ie hearing macolms voice during legacy)#he needs to be pushed soooooooooo far before he will show negativity as anything other than anger#but iiiiiii want him to be a visible shuddering bawling mess so varric can hold him to his chest#and tell him that its going to be okay#cyrus hawke#...........maybe its eluvian/varterral fic time
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Like someone said, wwx death haunts Jiang cheng because it's like he choked him to death by his own hands and I think it's somewhat similar to how wwx feels about Jiang yanli death being by "his" hands
Jiang cheng's obsession is a lot similar to Lwj's refusal to burn the paper money or playing the inquiry because it's not that they think he will come back but more that they refuse to believe he is gone for good
I know that because the story takes place after wwx comes back jiang cheng's whole "i don't believe wei wuxian is actually dead i'm gonna keep obsessively looking for him" shtick got retroactively legitimized, but it is pretty important to remember that wei wuxian was in fact super dead the entire time and if it hadn't been for a depressed 20-something doing a suicide ritual, influenced to an unknown degree by a revenge plot that wasn't in play yet at the time of wwx's death, he would never have come back at all. And jiang cheng would've kept going "No! He's still out there I know it" for eternity with absolutely no proof or results.
Jiang Cheng, my man, what the fuck
#mdzs#wei wuxian#jiang cheng#it truly is interesting to think would they ever let go off this obsession if wwx didnt come back?#imagine jiang cheng's either slowly with years fighting with the realisation like a sinking in his gut and becoming even more extreme#maybe he goes too far or crosses even more lines and jin ling has to yell at him about this or something?#he needs a good inconsolable cry honestly#just fall to his knees and clutch his chest and finally let out that choking grief he isn't allowed to feel#idk my boy needs to vent out thoroughly before he even starts to heal from things yk?
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— sugar, sugar
[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]
wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader
rated e - 6.5k
tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)
a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)
Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.
“You gonna introduce me?”
You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.
“You think this will wash out?”
The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.
“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”
He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.
“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”
You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.
In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had.
Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.
Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.
But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.
And maybe that was friendship, after all.
You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”
“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”
“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”
He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”
Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.
“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”
You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”
He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”
“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”
You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter.
But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.
Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.
But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.��
“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”
Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”
That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”
“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”
“Who do you think got Peter?”
“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.
“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”
Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”
“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”
“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”
The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.
“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”
“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”
“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.
You give him a sideways look, then.
“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”
He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.
“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”
There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another.
You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.
“I’m really glad to hear that.”
He smiles, then.
“Thanks. Me too.”
“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”
Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”
The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”
An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”
It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.
“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”
Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.
“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”
“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”
The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.
“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing.
Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid.
He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer.
“18.”
Another beat passes, and then a sigh.
“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.
“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”
Wade’s fist pumps.
Bullseye, motherfucker.
The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.
Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do.
Or maybe, just bail all-together.
Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.
He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.
Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing.
Ambiance, his ass.
The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.
Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.
Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.
A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home.
Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.
Better not to hope, or even think, at all.
You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close.
A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide.
“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”
A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”
Penis cake?
Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open.
Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”
Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”
Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.
“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”
Jesus Christ.
Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”
Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.
A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.
“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”
A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.
“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.
Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.
Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own personal version of hell.
“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing.
Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours.
They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head.
She wants to meet you.
He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him.
“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”
“Uh-uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses.
“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.”
He hates you.
He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.
Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.
That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away.
“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin.
“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”
His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.
“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”
His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”
“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts.
“You first.”
“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing.
Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger.
It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back.
Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.
“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”
You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.
“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”
Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways.
Different. Special.
“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”
“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.
The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”
There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.
“Right. What flavor was it?”
Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”
A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”
He hums then, close to a laugh.
“Sure. You do that.”
You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”
The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.
Setting it free.
“I’m a mutant.”
Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade.
“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.
“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”
There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry.
They glint in the light, as his fingers flex.
“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”
The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood.
Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.
“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”
Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”
You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers.
“But doesn’t that hurt?”
It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing.
He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.
“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”
“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”
His hand flexes in your grip.
“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”
Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.
“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”
Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough.
“No. I don’t think so.”
Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.
“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”
He doesn’t reply.
The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face.
His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows.
Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.
He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly.
“Let me ask you one more thing.”
“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.
His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.
Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.
“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?”
His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.
Surely he must know?
“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.
“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”
“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.
All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken.
Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.
“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”
You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.
Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush.
“You want to get out of here?”
You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.
The corner of his lip twitches.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.
His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.
Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.
His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.
It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.
Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it.
His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.
Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.
A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.
Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.
Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.
He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.
Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.
You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down.
It’s here that he comes back to himself.
Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.
“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”
Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring.
It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.
Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath.
The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?”
He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch.
“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”
You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”
He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”
And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.
“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”
"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down.
His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.
Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him.
The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth.
Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.
That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.
Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.
“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.”
Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again.
A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache.
Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone.
His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate.
“That’s it sweetheart.”
Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”
His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.
You did this to him.
It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down.
A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop.
Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.
A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you.
“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.
Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.
His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.
“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”
It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.
“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”
“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.
A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.
The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest.
“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”
You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.
It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.
That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim.
A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him. It’s what you needed - that little bit more.
Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge.
Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together.
“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”
He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking.
His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.
It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.
You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him.
Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.
But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock.
“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.
Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.
You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him.
A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his.
“Fuck me, Logan.”
He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up.
Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.
“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”
Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.
Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.
Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.
“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it.
“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”
He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.
It’s almost too much.
You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin.
It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.
That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.
“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”
His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat.
Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.
How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.
“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out.
“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”
He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in.
Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.
“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”
The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear.
Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.
He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.
Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap.
It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him.
Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”
Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.
Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught.
Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.
Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.
There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”
The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.
Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.
“Fuck, that’s good.”
Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise.
A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.”
Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.
The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”
You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.
“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”
There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.
But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.
“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”
Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”
“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.
Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.
“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”
“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.
“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”
I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)
#phew this got away from me - i can't remember the last time I wrote this much in 2 days#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett x you#wolverine smut#logan howlett#james logan howlett x reader#xmen x reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett x f!reader
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nsfw, mdni.
simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.
cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).
simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.
you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.
you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.
“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.
he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.
you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.
he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.
he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.
you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.
“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.
he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.
“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.
“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.
he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.
your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.
simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”
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