#does that make me feel better? not really

[bootycallin]

ACTUALLY PLEASE DO A PART TWO?? I NEED TO KNOW WHAT I DOES TO READERS CLIT ❤️

OOH—BETTER THAN ME?

꩜ .ᐟ basically; vi made a proposal. imagine what i can do, she said. not that you could've ever even imagined, imagined, anyways.

cw: wlw. porn with slight plot this time!! not a direct continuation but sort of. vi catches u jorkin it. implied perv!vi (lol). masturbation. mutual masturbation. bsfwb? fingering. bushvi (!!). reader’s briefly described as smaller than her. scissoring. swearing. vi's a sweetie pie. begging. overstim. aftercare? v fluffy ending. not proofread.

a/n: dinner is fucking served

NSFW UTC

now, the real question is, how’d she get you so addicted?

damn, it’s not like you’ve never had sex before. quite the opposite, you have sex pretty often.

but she was different.

maybe cause she showed something you could never really do. maybe because it was one time and you’re best friends and you’re overthinking. or maybe the dick was just really good. god knows. one way or the other, you can’t stop thinking about it.

you don’t know it, but vi can’t either. so when she hears you whimpering from your room, she can’t fucking help herself.

what kind of fucking black magic does she have? there’s no way your fingers are just short. you’re trying, you really are—legs wide, lips spread so you can press two of your fingers inside your saturated hole. it’s not enough. you’ve been neglecting your clit, as well—because supposedly, you should be able to do it.

it’s not enough. your clit’s twitching, breath shaky, curling your fingers—not enough. thrusting them in? not enough. just briefly smacking the tip of your clit with your palm? not. enough.

you’ve been trying to avoid it, but you need her.

“fuck, vi…” and what is it they say? about speaking of the devil?

‘cause she’s right there. say her name three times to summon, or some bullshit? because you could’ve fucking sworn you were alone—as you are most times when you’re masturbating.

(well, that’s what you think. vi’s conscience is a little heavy because of that. can you blame her? she’s just a woman!)

you barely have enough time to realize it. pulling your fingers out, grabbing the nearest blanket there was to cover your body as if she hadn’t already seen enough of it to know exactly what you look like. shit.

“vi—“ again. broken record, much?

“‘s fine,” she mentally scolds herself for how her voice sounds. shaky, unprepared, even—she’s been behind that door for a hot second and she’s already aching. she can’t deny it, damn it, she needs you. now.

“can’t…?”

“no.”

whether that’s you asking her to stop or confirming her thoughts, god knows. she does, too, apparently, as she hums slightly. there’s a smirk on her face, but she’s just as needy, just as nervous as you. fuck, she needs you so bad.

and at the opportunity, she’s rushing into bed with you, lips crashing against yours. she’s missed this so much. the feeling of your lips against hers—she really could get used to this. like, really get used to it. dare she say, she wants it. she grasps at the covers you used to shield your body, pulling them down so she can see your bare skin. she’s been imagining this for so long.

her teeth nip at your bottom lip, looking up at you to find your half-lidded eyes that widen when she spreads your legs open, settling comfortably between them.

“this okay..?”

“yes.”

what kind of question even was that? you knew damn well she could see how you were practically buzzing at the idea of having sex with her again. is this normal? yeah, no. but it’s happening and you’re definitely not thinking twice about it.

you stop her midway through kissing down your neck, hands softly grasping at her hair, making her gasp. your eyes are flitting down to her lips, but most importantly, the damned tank top. not that it didn’t look good on her.

just that it would look better off.

“vi-“ there’s barely enough time for you to even speak, as you grab at her shoulder straps and pull, leading her to nearly rip the shirt off altogether.

and there she is. between your legs, bare in all her glory. damn, you knew she was muscular, but fuck…

she can practically feel you eye-fucking her. trailing up and down, on her sculpted and. you could swear they used to make greek statues based off of her. oh, and when your eyes catch that little bit of red poking out from the hem of her boxers—

“y’alright?”

“yeah…” you mumbled, dreamily. your hands reach for her so you can run your hands over her body, over the mark of her collarbones, the curve of her breasts, the dips of her abs. fuuuck. you can barely hear how vi gasps, her eyes laser-focused on the way your smaller hands run over her skin. she’s been dreaming of this.

“baby,” she whispers, breath shaky. her own hands find yours, guiding one down to run down her body, fingers briefly making contact with the hairs of her happy trail. that’s enough to drive her insane.

she let’s go of your hand to grab at the hem of her shorts, nearly ripping her goddamn boxers off. it’s the first time you’ve really, really seen vi’s body. her pussy’s fucking throbbing just by the way you look at her. damn.

there’s really no words not to be said. you don’t want to talk. you want her, and that’s it. you grab at her shoulders, making her gasp at the sudden eagerness. your lips crash against hers, she nips at your bottom lip. it’s messy. eager and messy and so fucking hot to both of you. your tongue meets hers, spit mingling and all—

she can’t take it.

she pulls away, making you whine and in turn making her smirk. cute.

(she’s acting like she’s not just as giddy. if not more. if you were to press your palm against her chest, you’d probably be a little concerned she’d have a heart attack. you’re just so pretty).

her hands run down your body, over the length of your thighs, spreading them open carefully. she can see how your eyes narrow a little at the stretch, but fall half lidded again when she ends up resting your legs atop of hers. she’s now sitting comfortably between your legs, your thighs sitting above her muscular ones.

“you want me to help you again, baby?” fuck, if that doesn’t make your face burn. she knows damn well what you want. if she didn’t, you wouldn’t be naked in front of each other like this.

“please…” even you are surprised at how whiny your voice sounds. you’re just frustrated. again.

“i-i can’t—“

“‘s fine.” she leaned forward to press a kiss to the crown of your head, something almost a little too heartwarming for the ‘best friends’ situation you two had. not that you were complaining. her lips were soft. vi was soft. for someone like her, you’d think she’s a little more… well, jagged. but, nope.

she’s soft through and through. principally when it comes to you.

her lips trail down your forehead to your nose, then to her cheeks, one of her hands—namely her right one—following the same pace, except down your body. over your belly, down to your lower navel, down until…

she swallows the moan you let out when her fingers just barely brush over your clit. she can’t help wondering if you’re really that sensitive or she just has the power to do that to you—which would definitely be an ego boost. gods, she hopes that’s what it is. you whine when she starts drawing slow little circles over your hood, your thighs tensing on instinct, breath catching.

“you want me to help you, yeah?” she asked, trailing her fingers further below—not before briefly smacking the nub of your clit with her middle fingers, an almost embarrassingly large gush of pre leaving your already sopping pussy. her mouth’s watering just thinking of it.

“violet,” not the usual vi. you sounded like you were trying to sound demeaning, but it really just came out as whiny. vi raised an eyebrow like you had insulted her.

but she herself was way too needy to give a damn. even if you did. her hand trailed down, fingers parting your lips and eyes laser-focused on your wet cunt. her index briefly prods at your hole, ripping an audible whimper from you which she just loves. but she doesn’t slip her finger in yet—not like she couldn’t. you’re wet enough that it would be like butter.

“wha…?”

“i just,” she looks up at you, free hand rubbing your thigh, “just had a thought.”

before explaining, she grabs one your hand, pulling it down so it hovered right over your pussy the same way it was when she first walked in the room.

“just…” her breath was slightly heavy, as she cupped the back of your hand. she spread her fingers so they matched yours, and you could only watch as she moved your finger to prod at your hole, tip just barely sliding in.

there’s not a lot of resistance. after all, you had already been doing it before she even got to this point. she’s watching your reaction carefully to see if there’s any discomfort, looking like it’s the most attention she’s ever given something. Her eyes are surprisingly wide. not scared. rather, it’s almost puppy eyes—she just needs to see it. needs to see you let go. needs to see you break again. needs to see you whine and scream her name again, like it’s the one word you know.

her hand guided your movements, one finger pushing your knuckle so your finger moved in and out, not a lot of movement, but enough to feel it. you let out a few pleasured sighs and slightly whimpers, but not compared to the whines and screams she managed to rip from you that time. both of them were good, though—she could deal with it. she was patient. unfortunately, you were not.

“i don’t feel it.”

“that’s fine,” she muttered, continuing to hide your movements. she watched your face, your body as it squirmed slightly. not necessarily from any great reaction, but rather because you just needed more. and because she was here. watching. she could watch you masturbate for hours. not that she hasn’t—well, imagine it… she’s overthinking. either way, it’s fine if you don’t feel it. that’s what she’s there for, isn’t it?

“do this.” she takes your hand away from yours for a second to show you how, finger doing the usual come-hither motion. you tilted your head back, a groan escaping from the back of your throat. obviously, you didn't take that all too seriously.

“it doesn’t work,” you’ve tried it already. never really did anything for you. you weren’t lying when you said you only did manage to cum when you played with your clit… well, not until vi, but that’s besides the point.

“trust me,” she mutters, staring at you, her gaze subtly speaking: you should. you know what she can do, don’t you? if there’s anyone you should be trusting, it’s probably her.you pouted and whined a little more, just to show her you didn’t like that whole idea. if you kept doing that, she might just have to wreck you—well, not that she wasn’t going to in the first place; she’s been holding back from jumping your bones since that last time.

a second of silence, and you end up doing as asked. it really makes no difference for you. people tried to make it sound better than it really was. you guess, because it really just didn’t work like that for you. never had that pornographic sensitivity to immediately squirt whenever you tried to reach your g spot, you don’t think you’ve ever even found it yourself.

it does feel a little different, but you’re guessing it’s just because vi is right there. between your legs. watching. you don’t know why she makes you feel like this. every little touch. it’s you’re a sleeper agent and she’s your goddamn activation. one little sexual touch or comment, and you already wanna fuck.

she has to hold back a groan when you do as she says. “yeah. like that,” she murmured, voice low and dangerous, “good girl…”

vi’s not even thinking when she says that. her brain isn’t really working, honestly. she’s way too preoccupied with watching as your face twists, the blood that rushes up your cheeks, flushing it a pretty pink she just wants to kiss so bad. her words had an obvious effect.

she shifts up slightly and you can only watch as her other hand, previously on your thigh, moves up to your lower belly, pressing down with the pads of her fingers right over your bladder.

you immediately stop when she does that. after all, it was just… a weird sensation. that same one from last time, but it still caught you off guard. a curse leaves from between your lips in a hiss, teeth catching your bottom lip briefly.

“‘s fine.” she reassured. “just do it.”

if she kept using that honeyed voice, you’d probably do anything she told you to. her free hand slides down to move another digit of yours inside, “just do as i told you.”

and of fucking course you do. because who the fuck are you to disobey her? it would be embarrassing if you didn’t like it so much, but god knows you do. you move your fingers in that ‘come here’ motion, wincing and whimpering at the feeling as the pads of your fingers press against the top walls of your pussy. you can nearly feel them, pressing up against that spongy spot, vi’s hand pressing down right on top of your bladder just making that all the more real.

“yeah.” she groaned, “like that… good girl. keep going.”

vi sounded like she was trying to encourage you. you made a mess on her once, she’s not gonna freak out if you do it again. i mean, she was expecting that for a while, but of course she always has to make the first goddamn move.

“vi, i—“ vi hushed you just with a sharp little glare that told you don’t test me. if she kept looking at you like that you’re sure you would discombobulate.

and of fucking course you do it. because if she tells you to, you’re more than likely doing it. at least here. you continue moving, her eyes locked in on you. on your body, your reactions. watching your face twist slightly and the little shakes of your thighs.

“vi…”

“fuck.” she groaned, moving to press her face against the crook of her neck. she kissed at the skin, just barely biting down, canines pricking. she herself was getting impatient. her pussy was fucking aching to just feel you and she couldn’t really think straight. the only part that managed to stop her from completely letting go is that she’s focused on your own pleasure.

but when she looks down, looks at your slick covered fingers—that sweet clit she wanted to touch—she couldn’t help it.

she lowered herself, lips latching to the nub. she made a point to ignore your surprised noise, how your hips jerked away. you seemed to relax soon enough. she looked up at you, noticing your fingers had halted.

“continue.” she muttered against the hood of your clit, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin there. you whined but obeyed, fingers moving in that same motion she just showed you. it’s definitely affecting you more when she’s kissing and licking your clit.

vi’s a messy eater. she’s always been messy, but it comes down even to that. she flicks, sucks, nips, laps. likes licking up from your hole to your clit, lapping up whatever comes like a needy dog. she feels like one right now. she’s practically humping the mattress in a desperate need to get some friction while pleasuring you. it always came first in her head.

“vi, fuuuck,” you gasp. she’s still lapping up at your clit, flicking the bean with her tongue in quick movements, better than any fucking vibrator you’ve ever fucking used. you’re sensitive, bit almost hurts a little, but it’s good. hurts so good you don’t want to stop her. you find that your fingers get quicker before you can even think about it, curling up over and over again ‘til you’re soaking.

“fuck.” she pulls away before you can get your high, though. before you can ask, she’s stopping your fingers, pulling your hand away from your heat. you whined, but shut up when she switched your fingers with hers.

“ah-!” a sharp gasp comes from your throat. vi’s fingers were thicker, bigger than yours. you like to think that’s why you can’t make yourself cum, but when she starts moving, you start realizing the problem really is that you just can’t finger correctly.

“shiiiit…” you drawled out, head tilted back and everything. you’re embarrassingly wet. not that vi really cares, anyways; you should know that.

“been waiting… f’so fucking long,” she drawled out, panting, shifting so she’s upright. “so fucking long to play with this pussy.”

“vi…”

your hand reached out to grab her wrist, but it’s worthless, as her thumb manages to poke through to tap at your clit briefly. that alone sends you over the edge in probably the quickest orgasm you’ve ever had. your vision blur and you can swear you see stars.

for vi, all she can see is how you wet her fingers, little liquidy gushes spraying from you the most she curls and rams her fingers into your g-spot, until you’re practically shaking. your whining doesn’t stop until she removes her fingers, pussy clenching around nothing, hips bucking into air. it’s truly a sight for her sore eyes.

but she needs more.

she grabs your thigh, pulling it closer to her until your leg’s basically hooked over her shoulder, holding the back of your knee. you barely have enough time to process till you feel the tickle of crimson hairs, as her wetness swipes right over yours.

“shii!—“ you hiss. it’s a feeling like never before. you’ve felt her fingers, her tongue, the silicone of that strap she dicked you down with a bit ago—but not her own pussy. you didn’t even think to realize it, you’ve never really touched her there before. mostly because vi seemed to prioritize having your pleasure over her own more than anything. (she’s probably converted you by now. god, you don’t want another guy inside you ever again).

“cupcake,” her rough voice rasps, mouth hung open in a way that’s almost too needy for her pride, heavy panting making her chest heave. what else is there to say? she's been fantasizing about this shit for the longest time. finally getting to feel you like this, rubbing her cunt against yours 'til neither of you can fucking think right.

not that she is exactly thinking about anything when she starts humping against you like a bitch in heat. her head hangs, eyes squeezing shut on instinct. she's desperate, feeling the heat building up in her lower stomach quicker than before. no pillow could ever replace the wet warmth of your cunt, the slick that coats her folds, sticky and messy and so fucking good.

"fuck, fuck, fuck—" vi's really hardly hearing you, her own groans being the one thing she can hear. you cum easily. after all, she had just ripped one from you, and here she is again, taking yet another one. all she can really discern is that you're impossibly wetter, essentially just lubing her up and making her own job easier. there's a whimper that tries to escape her throat, desperate, but she forces it out as a groan, head falling and top teeth tugging at her bottom lip.

"fuck, princess..." she growled, hands a vice-grip on your thigh. "please, fuck. yeah, shit, give it to me, give it to me..."

she's like a broken record, chasing her own high, while you tried to keep from screaming, body trembling and jerking with the aftershocks of your second orgasm.

"viii!—" a pitchy whine, ripping from your throat, strained at the angle of your head tilted backwards. "'s too much! gh-- too much!"

"fuck, baby," vi groans, a deep growl that rose from her throat, "shit, i know, i know. you can take it. you can take it, right?" her voice drops even lower, as she spoke through pants. her free hand shoots up to grab your face, making you look at her. powdery blue eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide, face flushed, sweat dripping down her temple. she looked like an angel.

"you can take it, right? fuck, please, baby..." her voice is borderline whiny, getting pitchier the closer she gets to the edge, which is rapidly approaching. how could you say no to a face like that? she half expected you not to answer.

"yeah, vi," you pant, trying to keep your voice as stabe as possible. "keep... g-"

"shit!"

she hissed, her abdomen locking, pussy gushing right over yours, not stopping, only jackhammering her clit against yours 'til you're cumming yet again, a silent scream leaving you, chest heaving. she has to bite the skin of your knee that's hooked over your shoulder so she doesn't cry out. you can tell, though, by the vibrations that run down your skin.

vi collapsed on top of you when she was finally done, her own body trembling. she has half the mind left to kiss up your neck, arms wrapping around your waist.

you both lay in the afterglow for a few minutes, not bothering with words. just the way she holds you is good enough, more than words can speak. she eventually lifts her head, eyes meeting yours, gentle and loving like you've never seen.

"you alright?" vi asks, voice like raspy but still like sweet honey. "i didn't hurt you, right?" yeah, she might've acted like a brainless mutt back there, but she's can recognize she overstimulated you. she liked hearing your cries, sure, but she doesn't want to hurt you.

"no. of course not." you reassure her, hand reaching to cup the back of her head, then her cheek. she found herself leaning into it like a needy cat, nose nuzzling into your palm.

"you sure?" she asked yet again, pulling a genuine chuckle from you.

"yeah. i promise," you rub your thumb down the slope of her cheel, the slight bump of her cheekbone. she's always been sculpted like a greek goddamn statue. beautiful.

“mhm." she grumbled. she hated that you could get her like this. so weak, so... vulnerable. but if it was for you, she'd probably be able to handle it.

"fuck, i-" she starts, without thinking, "i love you..."

before she can panic over her words, nervously meeting your eyes, you replied, "i love you too."

and she can rest easy knowing that you love her, that she didn't fuck it up. that all this was worth something, not just a quick fuck to you. to her, it never was.

you've always been more than her best friend to her. way, way more than that. her love.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[marscantread7]

This but all five LIs. Obviously mdni

Caleb

I've alr established I think that I believe Caleb has the filthiest mouth out of all of them. U can also tell when I write abt him.... plus I have that nasty hc that he cums as soon as he slides in. Like... Caleb is FILTHY. Like, during foreplay it's all,

-"So fucking wet and dirty."

-"Fuck, did u js squirt from my fingers?"

-"Oh, fuck I can't wait to feel u around my cock."

And his own dirty talk is getting him off, he's literally leaking through his PANTS. Fuck, it's so hot, and his words r spurring him on. And as soon as he slides in it's all

-"Baby, baby, baby, please stop ur so tight" (ur not even squeezing)

-"So warm, it's sucking me in, oh my god" (mind u the tip is barely in)

-"Taking this fat cock so well, fuck I'm cumming-" and w/ his dick barely halfway in, he's cumming embarrassingly fast.

He cums immediately and he's still talking u through it, even through the overstimulation. He's so fucking horny and he won't shut up abt it. He's literally fucking himself dumb😭😭😭 and he js keeps cumming over and over and over again.

Xavier

I think Xavier has the second filthiest mouth after Caleb, but only when he's in the mood. He's usually all sweet and caring, all for soft, sensual sex. He's usually vocal and guiding u through it, but it's typically sweet words, but then there's moments where he's js filthy and desperate for it. Whether it's him fucking u or u fucking him, he js wants it messy and rough and he won't shut up abt it.

-"Mmmm, feel so good wrapped around me, do u like it that much?"

-"Oh, fuck- ur so deep, I can feel it in my belly, oh yes right there please!"

-"Ur taking me so well, I feel like I might go crazy."

And like, it's not really his words getting him off, it's ur reaction to his words. He doesn't necessarily cum embarrassingly fast, but watching ur face contort from his words, biting ur lip softly as he tells u how well ur fucking him, it really gets him off, so he does cum sooner than he'd like.

Sylus

It's smth abt the way u easily follow his orders and let him guide u that really gets him going. Not really his words, but how easily u listen to him as he guides u through it.

-"I need u to relax so I can slip this last finger in- shh, shh, I know, kitten. Four fingers is a lot, but I need u stretched for my cock. Yeah, that's it, loosen up for me."

-"Don't squeeze my fingers so tight baby, the friction might be uncomfortable. Yeah, loosen up, like that."

-"Yeah, cum all over these fingers, I'll have u squirting by the end of the night- yes js like that. Feel how sticky it is? All for me, hm?"

And he's rock hard the entire time, the more u obey and follow his orders, the more his cock js drools over his stomach. He can't cum js yet though, not until he's fully sheathed inside u, and even then it's all-

-"Feel how easily u swallow me up? U were js waiting for this all night weren't u?"

-"No, no, don't move js yet. Let me sit here, fuck that's so hot. I'm gonna cum- fuck I'm cumming!" (From u borderline cockwarming him btw)

-"Yeah, js take my cum baby, please take it all. I'll eat it out of u later, js let me fill u now."

It's js, he honestly gets off on the trust u have for him. Smth abt that js really gets him going, especially considering it took so long for u guys to get to this point, so for u to listen to him and trust him during the most intimate time in ur life... it really gets him off.

Rafayel

Tbh, I hc that Rafayel isn't that into like penetration being it him receiving or giving. He'll finger u, and fuck u, and let u do the same, but he honestly prefers simple oral. And he can cum even if he's the one sucking u off/eating u out.

-"Fuck! Please make me choke on it more, I love choking on ur cock, cutie."

-"Ur hole's this sensitive and I haven't even licked it yet. U better not move- ah ah, stay right there brat."

-"Cutie, cutie... fuck u taste so good, I- I... fffuuuccck, I js came."

And he js rambles his entire orgasm abt how good u take his tongue, or how good u fuck his mouth, either rutting against the bed or ur foot, depending on the position ur in. He really loves to rub his leaking cock on ur shoe as he sucks u off and talks u through it.

-"Fuck my mouth harder, make me gag."

-"Fuck, call me ur dirty whore again, please. I'm ur dirty little slut, I love sucking this cock."

-"Please cum into my mouth, I need it, please, cutie. I wanna taste ur cum, haven't I been a good boy?"

And he still ends up cumming first despite pulling out all the stops. He honestly js works himself up, and makes himself desperate for u to cum.

Zayne

He's the least filthy imo. He's not one for dirty talk at all, but let alcohol get involved and he's a yapper.

-"Fuck urself on this dick. That's it. Js like that."

-"No- no, slow down. Fuck, ur so hungry for my cock, maybe I should make u beg for it."

-"Plleeeeaaassseeee cum, please baby, I can't cum first again, mmmff-"

His movements r a little sloppy, making him hit places he didn't know was possible in his drunken state. The feeling of u pulsing around his cock has him losing his mind as he cums for the nth time that night.

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Heyyy!!! I hope u guys enjoy. I tried to go for a LI x gn/male/female reader. So like when I say Rafayel's choking on ur cock or ur fucking a LI, it could either be w/ a real cock, a strap, or whatever tf u prefer man😭😭😭 it's up to ur imagination. This is kinda mid I'm ngl, I tried. I wrote this in like 2 hours, which I feel like isn't a lot of time, but it's definitely too much time for smth like this... uhm, enjoy man

[meinii]

“hold on”

summary: you get severely injured during a fight but Sylus won’t leave your side (つ╥﹏╥)つ

content: angst, lil fluff, injured reader, mentions of blood

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

“hey-” Sylus’ voice cracks as he drops to his knees beside you. too much blood. it pools beneath you, staining the ground, his hands, everything. he presses his palms to your wound without thinking, his fingers trembling “stay with me. you hear me?”

your eyelids flutter, lashes sticky with grime and tears. a weak smile tugs at your lips, but it does nothing except twist a knife deeper into his chest. why are you smiling? this isn’t the time

he swallows hard. focus. but how can he when your breathing’s shallow, when you’re growing colder beneath his touch?

“don’t- don’t do this” the words are jagged, ripped from somewhere deep. he doesn’t beg. sylus onychinus doesn’t beg. yet here he is, voice a hushed plea “you don’t get to leave me.”

his strong facade—so perfectly crafted, so impenetrable—cracks. tears burn at the corners of his eyes, one slipping down before he can catch it. “damn it,” he mutters, cursing both you and himself “you’re supposed to be stubborn. fight back.”

your fingers twitch against his, trying to comfort him. that breaks him further. you’re the one bleeding out, yet you’re still thinking of him

he pulls you closer, cradling you to his chest “hold on,” he whispers into your hair. please. the word stays locked in his throat, too heavy to voice

he calls for backup, barks orders, but it’s a blur. all he sees is you. all he feels is the way your warmth is slipping away too fast

“stay awake,” he murmurs “talk to me. yell at me-say something. anything.”

you breathe out, barely audible. “you… worry too much…”

he huffs a shaky laugh “yeah? and whose fault is that?” but his voice breaks at the end “don’t- don’t close your eyes.”

he rocks you gently, hands steady despite the panic gnawing at him. he can’t lose you. not you. not after everything.

and when the med team finally arrives, prying you from his grasp, he doesn’t let go until he has to. his hands linger in the air, bloodied and shaking

—

the hospital is suffocatingly sterile. fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and he hates how useless he feels sitting in the waiting room. he paces, runs a hand through his hair, stares at the closed doors

hours. endless. every second stretching like a lifetime

when the doctor finally emerges, Sylus bolts upright “she’s stable,” they say “it was close.”

he doesn’t wait for more. he’s through the doors, down the hall, pushing into your room

you’re pale, hooked to monitors, but breathing. breathing. relief crashes into him so hard his knees almost give out. he drags a chair beside you, reaching for your hand

“idiot,” he mutters, voice rough “scared the hell out of me”

your eyes open a fraction “you… cried”

he snorts, wiping at his face “must’ve been the rain”

you smile, soft and tired “wasn’t raining”

“yeah, well” he squeezes your hand “don’t get used to it”

silence stretches. he leans forward, resting his forehead against your joined hands

“you really had me thinking I’d lost you,” he murmurs vulnerability, raw and rare, edges his words “don’t do that again. can’t-” he stops, breath hitching “I can’t lose you”

you brush weak fingers through his hair “I’m still here”

“yeah” his eyes close, breathing you in “you better be. you promised forever, remember?”

you chuckle softly “how could I forget?”

he lifts his head, gaze meeting yours

“good” a pause

“next time you decide to be reckless, think about how gorgeous I’d look in widowhood. don’t make me go through that”

you laugh—hoarse, but alive. it’s the best sound he’s ever heard

he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple “rest,” he murmurs “I’ll be here.”

and he is.

he stays through the night, fingers never leaving yours. the strong, untouchable Sylus—reduced to a man terrified of losing the person he loves most.

but now, with your heartbeat echoing steady on the monitors, he lets out a breath and finally lets himself hope

[kaisentine]

꒰ა ⠀ ⸺ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲!

⌗ ⸺ there’s no price for a gift if you’re getting it for someone you love—he really fucking loves you. ft. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, mikage reo, oliver aiku general cw. supa dupa short, there are separate cws for each guy, not proofread . . . gn!reader ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ ) sticky note. IM SCREAMING SAIKI SANTAAA . . . guys my deadline of march 14 is not looking too great . . . not proofread this is part of my event check it out!

𝒾 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒾 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 ♡

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 mentally beats himself up while trying to decide what to get you—the next best person to beat up over gift ideas? alexis ness.

“uhm, what about clothes . . ?” ness hesitates after being rejected for the umpteenth time while trying to give kaiser ideas. “that’s so lame, don’t you have any better ideas?” kaiser replies, pitching his nose-bridge in annoyance and stress.

“a ring?” “i’m not proposing!” “a dog!” “you’re a dog—no thanks.” “shopping trip?” “that’s half-assed.” “a letter?” “i’m not good with those.” “chocolate?” “what kind of a person do you think i am?!” “. . . roses.” “that’s too basic.”

in the end, kaiser does get you roses. “why do you look like you’re on the verge on tears?” he looks down at you while you’re hunched down over the bouquet of royal blue roses. you shake your head as if your lips aren’t quivering and as if your eyes aren’t glossy.

“they’re really pretty, thank you.” you say, bringing the collar of your shirt up to your eyes to soak up the salty water build-up. kaiser feels incredibly awkward in this situation, he swears you’re gonna make him develop a stutter one of these days. “yeah? well you . . . you should be!” he huffs triumphantly after crossing his arms.

he’ll never tell you that ness gave him the idea of getting you flowers.

cw. unintentional freak

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 is actually so bad at this, it’s diabolical but he tries his best.

“oooh! who took this photo? it’s super cute . . !” you smile while holding the polaroid sae gave you of him being effortlessly pretty—unprompted—on a random afternoon, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t have a nagging question on your mind—why? “why’d you give me this though?” oh. guess you didn’t think before you spoke, now he has a question to answer!

lucky for you, he’s an honest guy and gives you the answer straight-up. “you said you miss me when i go away for games,” shrugs, bending over next to you to view the picture as well. “heard pictures lasted longer.” he whispers in your ear.

you pull your head away while facing him in surprise—fucking bastard.

he turns his own to face you. “dunno though. thought i’d try it out anyway.” he says as he straightens his back and walks off to wherever, leaving you with your thoughts and this stupid polaroid he gave you.

cw. i could say this is pure crack goodnight

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈 . . . well—let’s just say “hyperpigmentation”!

“. . .is that me?” you ask after sneaking up behind shidou while he was busy doing something—busy meaning drawing you.

sounds romantic, right? not when it comes down to him because you could barely tell the drawing was of you. your lips draw a thin line in an attempt not to laugh but also as an attempt not try cry. “you can tell?” he grins, lifting his pen off of the very amazing sketch.

oh ok—so it is you. “yes . . ?” you’re practically on the verge of tears while answering him. “aw, that sucks. was gonna give ‘ts to you as a gift.” he sighs really loudly. as a gift? what the fuck is wrong with shidou ryusei.

“well, i’m done anyway so i can give it to you.” his smile returns as he pulls the paper hard enough to be teared apart from the little circle things ( sorry i legit dk wtf those are called ) and slaps you with it, the smell of fresh paper and ink filling your nose.

“ryu,” you call, mortified. “yeah?”

“is that hyperpigmentation?”

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎 unlike kaiser, he genuinely crashes out while trying to think of a gift idea! something big? he knows he’ll never hear the end of it from you. something small? guilt will eat him alive.

reo is screaming so loud into his pillow, nagi is scared that he will break his vocal cords. “why are you stressing over a gift?” the white haired asks but doesn’t look up from his nintendo. “it’s not just a gift!” “. . . then what is it?”

“it’s a declaration of my love!” he finally peels his face off of the silk pillow case and brings his hands to his eyes to cover his vision. “that’s really cringe.” nagi says. “you find everything cringe.”

so what does he do? he gets you both matching bracelets from a luxury brand but has it custom made so you don’t know.

“reo, these are so pretty!” you’re fawning over the gold bracelet he put in your hand after he told you to close your eyes. “i’m glad.” he smiles at your admiration for simple piece of jewelry—thinking to himself that he could’ve done better, but he digresses. “too pretty . . . where’d you get them?” you ask, lifting your head up to make eye contact.

you don’t fail to see the way his eyes just barely falter to meet yours. “uh . . . went online shopping with nagi.”

that didn’t answer your question but, alright! when you hug him, he feels like he just got away with a crime but there’s a gut-feeling that you know.

cw. reader indirectly accuses him of cheating but he didn’t, promise! he calls reader “doll” uh!

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔 break-up text despite the fact he isn’t fond of chocolates, he likes to keep his gifts meaningful but classy—yet he fails miserably.

“you said you didn’t like chocolate . . .” you deadpan at the heart-shaped chocolate box splayed out on the table. aiku is sitting on the couch when he turn his head to look at you—you don’t miss the way his face almost pales under the soft flashing glow of the television.

there’s an obscene amount of scenarios that fill up your head as to why he looks like he has seen a ghost. were these not for him? who were they for then? you puff out your cheeks as you also feel faint. “. . . i don’t.” he responds.

“so then, who are they for?” you ask, picking the box up and dangling it up in the air with one hand. it’s his turn to deadpan—while yes, he totally forgot to hide them from you, do you not realize that they’re for you?

“those chocolates are for you, doll . . .”

“oh—ohhhh,”

tags :) : @kenyuukissme @levihanmyotp @realmyth @vellichorira @pinkicyheart ( comment to be added! )

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Old Fashioned: swallow that bitter taste

Word Count: 2.7k Contents: angst, cursing, some dark themes, which include slut shaming, abuse, both physical and verbal, threat of violence, not proofread

The beep beep beep that echoes around the empty, dusty room strikes at your equally empty and equally dusty heart. You try to visit the hospital as often as your schedule permits, but these days, with all the wedding preparations, you could really only dedicate an hour every Thursday, between lectures. 

It’s pathetic. He deserves better than this half-hearted display of love and guilt, the natural combination. If he was awake, he’d undoubtedly make a snarky comment about how the wilting flowers you can barely afford is a representation of your friendship going down the drain because he obviously deserves more than carnations, of all flowers. 

Oh, how you wish he could tell you off right now. 

“Hi, Asahi. You’re looking shittier than last time,” you muse with a chuckle, a shaky smile pulling at your lips. 

There he is, lying in some drab hospital gown, tucked all nice and warm in a rigid bed, with only you, a dull lump of black lace as his only company. He can’t roll his eyes at your pitiful tone or fire back some insult about how your eyeliner is far too thick for your eyes and you more closely resembles a panda than any sexy vampire you’ve been trying to simulate. 

“Remember the boy I’ve been telling you about? Well, we got into a bit of a disagreement the other night. I don’t know, I guess he got fed up with this play acting thing we’re doing. And I don’t really blame him, y’know? We’re barely adults and we’re getting married. Isn’t that crazy? God, I wish you could be there, you can laugh at me and throw rice or confetti or whatever it is they do nowadays. Maybe even purposefully get it in my eye, knowing you.”

No reply. 

Just like all those times before, there is never a reply, only a beep beep beeping that drives you crazy and you can never seem to tune out, try as you might. Sometimes, at night, you hear that mocking sound hooking itself into your spine and carrying you away from the guiltless comfort of sleep.

With a sigh, you carry on. “Well, anyways, I think you’d really like him. He’s a little stupid. Okay, maybe a lot stupid, but I don’t know, I think it’s endearing. He has these annoying eyes that are just so bright and God, do you ever just wanna rip off someone’s eyes and stomp on them because they’re too dazzling? ‘Cause I do. Every time, I look at his. And his laugh. Oh, God. You won’t believe it. It’s the most obnoxious sound in the entire world. I actually get nightmares, I swear. He laughs like he doesn’t care how loud he is, like he thinks people should laugh more, like it’s a crime not to find laughing easy. What an idiot, right?”

You don’t mention how since that evening, he hasn’t blown up your phone like he usually does, in fact you received no notifications from him at all. Within the first hour or two, you thought he still needed some space, and you understood. But then as hours turned into a whole night, then a whole morning, then a day and another, you started to think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll never text you again. 

And can you blame him?

He wasn’t wrong, about him being used. From the very beginning, he always represented wealth and what that can bring. Surely, he was aware that even if people did genuinely like him for who he is, the strength of his name, of what courses through his blood, will always hang in the air, this infinite void shielding him from everyone who tries to get too close only to end up further and further away. 

“I think I should apologise and give him that second date he’s been begging me for. Yeah, actually begging. I told you he’s stupid.” Your voice is trailing off, a slight wobble that you can’t seem to command away. “I think I hurt his feelings. I know, surprise surprise. But I just can’t help but feel like, out of everyone involved in this thing, he’s the least deserving, y’know? Ugh, I’ll talk to the guy when I run into him on campus — he’s kinda hard to miss.”

Even paralysed and in a coma, you’re certain Asahi can tell you aren’t convincing yourself with the fake bravado. Truthfully, you’re not sure you could bring yourself to mutter an apology. No, it isn’t that. You can’t bring yourself to come face to face with him, lest you see something that doesn’t quite match up with your vision of a sincere expression of happiness, at seeing you.

Fiddling with a loose thread on your dress, you pull it taut, tighter and tighter, until it snaps. 

“Here again?”

Your head snaps back. 

“Mother, w-what are you doing here?”

Beep beep beep.

She waltzes in, clasping her snakeskin handbag closer to her, as if the cramped room would snatch it off her manicured hands. Burgundy pencil skirt clashing with her neon blouse, those staple bright red lips curl into something that makes you gulp. You don’t dare bring up the fact that she desperately needs a stylist — that is the least of your issues.  

Pursing her lips, her disapproving eyes roves over your body, before she scoffs and looks away, focusing instead on a framed print photo of tomato soup cans in all sorts of colours. You shuffle in your seat, the plastic squeaking. 

“You’ve disappointed me once again,” she begins, settling her bag on the table where your flowers droop over the vase. You recognise this tone of hers, the one that’s too calm, too flat to ever mean anything other than trouble. “You were given one task and one task only, and somehow, either by natural ineptitude or wilful rebellion, you’ve failed at something so simple. Goodness, what ever did happen to that brain of yours?”

It’s clear she isn’t here to chat about the weather, so you stand up, pulling a glove further up your wrist and exhale as quietly as you can. 

“Now, mother, I know the dinner didn’t end very well, but he just needs a second to cool down and then he’ll be on board again. I’ll go on another date with him and show him we can work together. I’ll fix it, I swear.”

Her glare pierces you, forcing you to stumble back. 

Scoffing, she waves a hand in the air. “‘Fix it?’ You will fix it? God, Y/N. It is not the time for your sarcastic little jokes. You can’t fix anything. You proved that the other night with whatever you had texted him as we made plans for your wedding.”

“Y-you knew?”

The laugh that escapes her lacks any real joy — the only one she’s capable of. Cold, mocking and scathing, you can do nothing but wince under its weight. 

“It’s hard to not notice you typing away under the table like some whore playing footsie! I raised you better than that, no? Where did all those etiquette lessons go anyways? Hmm? It’s certainly not towards your uncouth behaviour. Goodness, look at you. You’re in your final year of university and you still haven’t matured.”

When she gets into these rants, there’s no stopping her. You learnt that when she snapped at you for tripping on your own dress in front of a ballroom of people at the age of eight, and at twelve when she overheard you use a swear word with a friend. 

“Still bumbling about, pretending to be indifferent and nihilistic, like some child playing dress up. And what have I said about this all black look? You look ridiculous and not to mention hideous. When are you going to grow out of this phase? You couldn’t even lose those repulsive piercings? Even just for a couple dinners? Maybe if you did, the Gojos would have been more keen to welcome you into their family.”

Beep beep beep.

She continues, taking a step closer towards you, and you feel the room get smaller like the walls are shifting in, “We had him. Him and the rest of his family in the palm of our hands. You were so close to marrying him and fixing all our problems and then you ruined it. This is all your fault.”

Your mother’s voice grows louder, pitchier, more shrill, and you clutch your dress tight in your fists. She’s been drinking. You don’t know how you didn’t notice until now but she reeks of alcohol. Perhaps, the natural smell of death and deep levels of sanitation that permeates the air of this hospital masked that scent of hers she never bothered to try to shake off. 

“Why couldn’t you just be a good girl, hmm?” Her hand reaches for your face and you flinch. Ice cold, her touch brings the hairs on the back of your neck to a standstill. It’s been many years since she had last touched you, in any kind of soft, maternal way at least, and this foreign feeling leaves you holding your breath. 

“Why couldn’t you just give him what he wanted? Flirt a little, flash him a smile, slide those legs and let him take what he needed. Anything! Anything to make him yours. The way I did with your father.”

Falling to your chest, her hand curls, digging itself into your dress and you stagger forward with her powerful yank. You gasp. And then, eyes wide, you clutch your heart, watching the lace collar that had once been a part of you dangle in her grasp. She casts it aside. 

A cry rises up her throat, like bile, and she spews it at you. “Boys like him only want one thing, my dear. Do you know what it is? Did I ever teach you?”

Her nails are sharp. 

You notice that as she leans forward, skimming them against your cheek once more. Clammy, you feel the material of your gloves stick to your skin and you feel a sudden itch to keep it on even in death. There’s no one here. Nurses rarely come to check up on this room, not when the patient has so little wants and needs. And there’s not anyone you can text and call, no one who’d understand, who’d come at the drop of a hat.

“Answer me!” 

She wrenches your sleeve in a blur, her movements jerky and sudden and too unpredictable. That too falls to the ground, lifeless. 

Beep beep beep.

Bottom lip quivering, you stammer out, “S-sex?”

You feel the burn of your cheek before you hear the sound of her palm strike you. And you sob with her, just as she soothes the skin with a cooing sound. Her expression softens and for a second, no more and no less, she actually looks like a mother. 

“No, my dear. All boys, whether that Gojo boy’s age or your father’s, want thrill. They’ll seek it anywhere. If not from their wives, then from common whores, or from sports cars, or violence, or casinos, like your daddy — it’s why we needed you to marry that boy, remember? We have no money, our family’s fortune is scattered in the vaults of seedy casinos all over the city. We needed their money, to get back to where we used to be. They were our last chance.”

“L-last? B-but the wedding’s still happening, isn’t it?”

Was that even your voice? 

It sounded so meek, so frail, so young. 

“No, dear.” Her smile is sharp, one corner stabbing into your heart and the other twisting. “This morning, your little fiancé went to the press and informed them that you two were so-called victims of a forced engagement and would like the public’s support to maintain your ‘liberty’. The Gojos have already begun doing damage control, claiming that you broke up with him and he’s a classic college student — drunk and seeking revenge. So that’s that of your love story. Such a shame.”

Beep beep beep.

“B-but he wouldn’t. No, he wants to be with me, h-he just needed some time to cool down.”

You’re running out of breath, you can feel it seeping out of your lungs. It’s too tight in here, there are too many machines making all sorts of noises, and you just need air, you need something, anything. There’s nothing to clutch, nowhere to lean against, and when you turn to the one other person there, the eyes you wish would look at you aren’t. 

Beep beep beep.

There’s simply no way Satoru would go to the media. No, he was finally accepting the marriage, accepting you. You were so sure of it. It was clear as day in his eyes. You could even feel it pulse in that minuscule gap between you when he had fitted your gloves back onto your hands. 

He can’t be done with you. 

He just can’t. 

Beep beep beep.

Holding up a bedpan, she inspects her face in the reflection and her lips purse once more. Taunting, she giggles. “Oh, but all women learn eventually that time does nothing for us.”

She’s ran out of steam, much faster than she usually does, and even though parts of your dress lay in tatters on the hospital floor, you feel fortunate that she hadn’t decided to rip out your heart instead. You’re not sure she’d find anything in your chest cavity anyways. 

Detached once more, she slurs with bewildering high, “Don’t look so devastated, goodness. You’ll forget all about that Gojo boy soon. You must. Because you’ll be marrying into the Zenins. A nice, young man, just a little older than you. I believe his name is Naoya.”

The blood drains from your body. 

“No,” you gasp out. “No, mother. I can’t. H-he’s abusive. You know this. Everyone knows this. He’s sadistic and cruel a-and —“

Beep beep beep.

“And he’s on the market looking for a wife.” She cuts you a look, one that forces your mouth shut. It’s a talent of hers. “The Zenins reached out. Apparently, whatever’s good enough for the Gojo’s is good enough for them. What great luck, wouldn’t you agree, my dear?”

Beep beep beep.

You’ve heard stories of how he used women like dolls, dressing them up and tearing them down as he pleased. There’s always scandals and blind items making rounds online about girls he’d left battered and bruised, disoriented and silenced by copious amounts of money. A man like him would never love you. He’d never even respect you. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew it would turn out like this. Having met the man once, at some yacht, a couple years ago, you recall the pure repulsion in his eyes when you bumped into him. He saw the beginnings of your true style coming in, like adult teeth, and something flashed in his eyes. A recognition of your rarity in these parts. A sparkle of challenge. A barely restrained desire. 

You could never forget the way he had looked at you — you were a trophy at the end of a marathon and there was a spot in his collection waiting just for you. 

Like a fool, a naive, pathetic little fool, you thought you had outran him. That, in the arms of another man, a stronger, richer man, you’d be safe. But that man doesn’t want anything to do with you. 

You’re alone.

Beep beep beep.

Sighing, she makes a tutting sound and focuses back on you. “I did say to behave, no? I told you it was in our best interest that you drag that boy up to the altar no matter what, and you failed your duty as a daughter. This is the consequences of your actions, dear. But despite your frightening appearance, you’re still desired. How nice. So, smile, yes? You’re getting married, after all.”

A machine flatlines. It’s not Asahi’s heart who fails and dies right there and then. You don’t even hear anything but that incessant beeeeeeeeeeeeep that knocks you back into your seat, jaw slack and cheek stinging.

“When?”

She smiles again. 

“Tomorrow!”

[poirolivia]

I’m gonna be real I haven’t read all of it but this I know based on memes and vibes:

Aragorn: probably could help and do a good job solving the problem but idk how good he’d do helping me with my emotions after

Legolas: same as Aragorn but I definitely don’t think he would do good with the emotions bit

Gimli: would probably grumble about the whole thing but help anyways but would then make fun of me after

Frodo: bro idk he’d probably come help but idk what he could actually do, would probably be nice after

Sam: would do his very best to solve the problem and be incredibly supportive afterwards, would bring snacks or something idk

Merry and Pippin: makes the problem 10000x worse

Gandalf: 50/50 either doesn’t freaking show up or REALLY shows up and absolutely does a fantastic job solving it and making you feel better after

Bill the pony: theoretically probably can’t solve whatever problem I’m having but will 100% help in the fallout

[bbadandboujee]

groom persona chart observations ⛧⃝ 18+

idk what to put here so fuck a intro!

OBSERVATIONS:

NEPTUNE IN THE 12H: your spouse is someone whose very artistic, they can definitely have an eye for detail, they could be good at drawing especially, they often work behind the scenes in any creative field as well. i feel like with this placement as well, they’re so good at what they do, but they may have tendencies to deny their gifts. they’re someone very patient and kind, can read emotions very well, gift of discernment too i’ve noticed, when it comes to you they have an understanding of who you are, and it’s not just the physical aspect of it all, it’s internal. i also feel like with this placement you guys will feel familiar from the get-go, this person has loved you for many lives, usually before they meet you they can have visions/dreams about you. *intuitively* i got in whatever creative endeavor they’re in, let’s saying drawing, they could draw you or even write about you before meeting you, basically envisioning their future. this person does have a thing for escapism, especially when they’re going thru ruff times, drugs, drinking, or even daydreaming about the perfect life they’ve always wanted to live. i’ve noticed with this placement your spouse can be into smoking, but it’s mainly for a reason. your spouse deep down has carried so much weight lifted on their shoulders, mentally. with you it’s like everything simply goes away, and they can become a better person. with this placement do not take your spouse for granted, love them whole.

MARS CONJUNCT PART OF FORTUNE: a very ambitious spouse, with this aspect, they’re obviously very strong inside and out. they might’ve had to work harder than others for what they’ve truly wanted in life, working from the bottom to the top is what i’ve seen with this aspect. your spouse can also become rich as hell. usually i feel like money comes and goes, but the thing is you can never call this person ‘broke’ because they’re always gonna have. finically they’ll be there for you, you can always count on them in times of need.

MOON IN SCORPIO: yo this is definitely a mysterious placement lol, not to be stereotypical or anything but this person may come off a bit as a mystery when you first meet them. they usually seem distant or simply introverted from a far, but as you get to know them they’re good people. they often have some type of relationship with their mother that may have traumatized them. but emotionally, when first meeting them they either first came out of a relationship or their just not really ready for one YET. they could be seen as emotional or even sensitive. they also usually don’t talk first unless spoken too (i think you already got that lol) but yeah, just chill ppls.

JUPITER IN 8H: BIG DIH. YUP I SAID IT. no but fr, a very big dih like i’m not playing..lets just say your spouse is PACKING..mk. he’ll definitely go round for round for round for round with you!! did i mention round for round? LOL, but yeah since jupiter tends to expand things and the 8h is also about sexual organs..you see?? 😂 but yes enough about that chi..your spouse can definitely be wealthy and their source of income is other people ofc. i feel like if they owned a business they’d take off tremendously. spiritually, they could be into esoteric shit, and i also feel like finding God could transform them as well.

VENUS 7H: a very outgoing extroverted person, sometimes their friends could often be their enemies as well, but this doesn’t stop this person from having a heart. they’ll always wanna see you do good before themselves, they often put people on a pedestal, which often leads them hurting. they can be seen as clingy especially in close relationships too. they can also be seen as friendly as well/approachable. they’ll definitely be a loyal spouse too.

MERCURY IN PISCES: IS IT ME OR PEOPLE WITH THIS PLACEMENT BE TYPING YABA DABA DOO IN THE MESSAGES?? like intentionally making spelling mistakes and shii, but nah your spouse will definitely type way different than you i’ve noticed (weird ass observation ik..) even talk different than you. it’ll be hard to understand what they’re saying sometimes too especially while typing. anywho, your spouse is VERY good at writing, very original, i’ve noticed with this placement they know how to write from a certain point of view, lets say their writing about jason..girl they’ll definitely get his point of view down so well! but all jokes aside, very smart people.

NEPTUNE 7H + URANUS 7H CONJUNCTION : girl i aint gone lie..well ykw lets give them the benefit of the doubt, they could be very hmm how do i see this..ykw fuck it, TERRIBLE AT RELATIONSHIPS. i’ve noticed with this damn placement that your spouse can be a bit of a player..🙂‍↔️, OR they just simply date a lot, BUT honestly a very good placement to have if you want someone whose a bit of a rebel, someone who doesn’t really take shit from nobody. they may have been cheated on in their past relationships, and usually their relationships tend to burn out quickly. they’re often played in relationships unfortunately, and i feel like when they meet you, you guys might be off and on not in a toxic way, but simply talking here and there. they often tend to fall for their friends a lot, and i feel like with you, y’all might be friends to lovers.

i’m done for today 💔, it’s birthday weekend so i wanted to give y’all something before i leave chi! 🙂‍↕️

[inklessletter]

"Let me hate you." "That won't change a thing."

This is what happens when the amazing, unbelievably talented @stervrucht suggest that we collab (like, this morning, literally). Dropped everything to give her something to work her magic on.

At risk of being a bit too much (I warned you), let me tell you, this is the most fun I've had playing around with art in a long, LONG time. Thank you for this amazing experience, art buddy 💞

Lineart + ficlet (below) - @inklessletter

Colouring - @stervrucht

WC: 917 | Steddie, Steve's POV, Mild Hurt/Comfort, internalized homophobia.

THE CAGE

In the cage, they're always skin to skin.

Lip to lip.

In the cage, there's an obscene amount of props to change the scene whenever Steve feels like it, so they can be together in every alternative universe.

(Oh, Steve knows now a lot of alternative universes, because it's hard not to listen to him when he speaks so passionately.)

He speaks up, shares secrets, holds hands and looks straight in the eye of Eddie Munson with no fear, in the cage.

And Eddie reciprocates. He stares back right into Steve's soul and he feels like nothing but flesh and bones made to break with love words. Steve longs to be no more, no less.

In the cage.

The cage is safe, because it's secret. Nobody knows about it, not even Robin. Talking about the cage means it exists. And if it exists, then he has to do something about it. It hasn't always existed, though. There was a time where Steve wore his heart on his sleeve and, well, you know, he never got a good eye to guess how strong or delicate are the things he holds.

His heart was fine once, though. Now it's patched up, now he's more careful with it. Fragile, damaged goods that he's sure that can't afford another blow. Not even a little one.

Not even by accident.

So, the cage is impenetrable. Nobody comes in, nobody comes out except what Steve decides, and this time, the cage fits everything that can't exist with Eddie Munson out of it.

The cage is where all those feelings he can't ever express go to die, and they both bury them together. Steve and Eddie. They make art with it.

The cage is fine, the cage is safe, because everything is contained in there.

Until it's not.

Until that stupid morning he wakes up in a mess of bed sheets that feel ablaze, and he's sweaty, and half hard, and wet, and he wakes up with Eddie's name in his lips.

But hey, nobody is there to listen to it, so does a tree make a sound when there's nobody to hear it fall down?

That is no comfort, though. Not even in the slightest.

Because there's a breach in the cage, now.

He said his name and his heart is balancing on breaking branches and unstable now.

After that day, everything leaks.

He blushes, ridiculously so, when Eddie so much looks at him.

He tries not to flinch at the accidental touch, not to react to the shock wave it sends through his system, and given that Eddie is a very tactile person, it's torture.

He never looks at him in the eye. He might see the breach. The cage.

They are never alone.

Not anymore, really.

Steve avoids it, and it's getting more and more difficult to find excuses, because they see each other all the time.

He's starting to notice that Eddie knows something and Steve is freaking out. Eddie acts a bit hurt with every rejection, and good. Steve would rather Eddie thinks that he doesn't like him than to admit the truth.

But it's a loss.

The cage is the home of uninvited grief now.

Steve wonders, when he's alone, holding his heart with shaky hands, if he has the right to cry.

Hasn't cried in years.

Steve decides that he hasn't any.

Puts his heart away, broken glass, in a shelf to gather dust, though he knows he might forget about it and break it accidentally when he tries to clean his cage.

Has happened before, will happen again, because Steve is cursed.

A fight is the better choice.

Destroy the cage.

He goes to meet Eddie to be his worst self, he's got experience in that. He can be mean, no, cruel. He'll be cruel, he'll make him want not to be in the same room with him and Steve will eventually find peace.

He will be able to rest.

To fall in a dreamless sleep in what's left of what was safe once.

Yeah, he'll do that.

Only it's not that what happens.

Steve is tense, doesn't know if to punch or run. Push him against the wall because how dares Eddie to be understanding. How dares he to be considerate, and how dares he to read and listen what's coming out of the cage.

What give him the right.

How dares he to say "it's okay."

Fuck you, Eddie, it is not okay.

He's wrong.

He's delicate.

How dares he to grab his heart, he's going to crush it with those stupid, careless fingers full of stupid rough silver chunks he wears for jewelry.

Fuck you, Eddie.

He actually says that, though.

"Fuck you."

The fact that he's about to cry, now, of all times he could have done it, he's about to cry now, when his voice is shaky, and his insults don't land.

"I love you."

His heart is in pieces.

He is in pieces. Destroyed. Demolished.

"Let me hate you", is what he begs. Isn't that pathetic?

"That won't change a thing."

Eddie is touching him now and Steve is not flinching. He wants to grab his face, push him away, scream and spit on his face. Why is Eddie not seeing what Steve is trying to do here? He's just trying to survive, because he can't avoid it anymore. He's already broken.

Has been for a while now.

Outside the cage, they're now skin to skin.

Lip to lip.

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

“you’re sure about this?”

nanami asks the question like he already knows the answer, but there’s something about the way he says it—low, careful—that makes your pulse stutter. you roll your eyes anyway, pretending his attention isn’t affecting you.

“yes, nanami.”

he hums, unconvinced, but doesn’t argue. instead, he takes the joint between his fingers, rolling it slightly. he’s methodical even in this, like he’s handling something precise.

“you’ve really only done this once?” you ask.

“once,” he confirms.

“and you remember how?”

he glances at you, unimpressed. “should i be concerned about your memory if you find that impressive?”

“i just thought it’d be more of a struggle for you, that’s all,” you tease.

he doesn’t dignify that with a response. instead, he brings the joint to his lips, inhales—slow and controlled, like everything he does. you watch, maybe a little too intently, as his cheeks hollow slightly before he exhales, letting the smoke curl between you.

he looks good like this, eyes slightly hooded, posture more relaxed than usual. he looks at you through the haze, tilting his head slightly. your eyes involuntarily slide down to the column of his neck, swallowing at the muscles shifting under his pale skin.

“watch me,” he says.

as if you haven’t been.

but this time, you pay attention—not just to the way he inhales, slow and controlled, but to the way he holds it, lets it settle in his chest before exhaling smoothly. there’s an effortless ease to it, like everything else he does.

you do as he says, but the moment the smoke hits the back of your throat, you choke, coughing into your sleeve. nanami is silent, but you feel his amusement.

“don’t laugh,” you rasp.

“i’m not.”

he is. not outwardly, but it’s there, in the slight twitch of his lips, the way his eyes linger on yours.

“slower,” he murmurs then.

“this would be easier if you just did it for me.” you say it half as a joke, half because you know he won’t.

except—he does.

he takes another slow drag, holding it this time. then—“open your mouth.”

you blink, pulse stuttering. your breath catches, and he must notice, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. he just waits, watching you with that unreadable gaze.

hesitantly, you part your lips.

nanami leans in, closer than he needs to, until he’s just inches away. then he exhales, and the smoke drifts between you, past your lips, into your lungs. the warmth of it sinks into your chest, something slow and heady. but more than that—it’s him. the scent of his cologne, the heat of his skin, the way his breath lingers against your mouth for a beat too long.

your pulse is loud in your ears. the high is creeping in now, making everything feel heavier, slower. you exhale shakily, the haze curling between you. nanami doesn’t move away, his gaze flickering downward—just briefly, but enough.

“better?” his voice is quieter now, rougher.

“yeah,” you murmur.

his fingers are still close, his lips even closer.

it’s slow, unhurried, the way he leans in—like he’s thought about this, like he’s been waiting. his lips are warm, soft but certain, and the taste of smoke lingers between you, heady and intoxicating. his hand lifts, thumb grazing your jaw, tilting your face just enough to deepen it.

by the time he pulls away, his eyes are a little hazy—not just from the high.

“again?” he asks, voice low.

you lean in, lips brushing his. “yeah.”

[leona-hawthorne]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a birthday gift ; for the sweetest witch… ༯

a little present to @nottswitch and also a little for myself because we share the same birthday! this was supposed to be fluffy and then i realized you would enjoy nasty smut a lot more <3 wrote it for theo and everything cuz he’s your fav, happy birthday kira!! ♡︎

warnings ; 18+ mdni, fem!reader x theodore nott, oral f!receiving, praise, overstim

₊⊹ navigation ; m.list

theodore’s gaze is intense as you step into his dorm, the soft glow from a few scattered lamps casting shadows on the walls. the noise of the party you just left still lingers in the back of your mind, but now all you want is him. he’d left only a little earlier than you did, and now he's lounging on the couch, his eyes dark with mischief, the corners of his lips quirking up just enough to make your pulse race.

“finally here, huh?” he drawls in that slow, smooth voice of his, eyes sweeping over your outfit as his gaze lingers longer than usual on the curve of your hips. “thought i’d never get you alone tonight.”

you laugh softly, stepping closer to him, your cheeks flushing under the heat of his attention. “well, i couldn’t leave my own party too early. birthday girl deserves a little attention too,” you tease, though you can already feel your heart pounding with the tension between you two.

he raises an eyebrow, that signature smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “oh, you’re the birthday girl, huh? well, i guess that means i’m in the mood to spoil you a bit, sweetheart.”

you shiver at the way he says it, your breath catching when you catch sight of the gift bags and the carefully arranged candles behind him. “you didn’t have to get me anything,” you say, voice soft, not really expecting him to answer.

but of course, he does. “yeah, i did,” he responds with that low chuckle, eyes never leaving yours as he stands up and steps closer. his fingers trace lightly over your arm as he moves, and you swear you feel a pulse of heat where his fingers graze. “happy birthday, princess.”

his lips brush over your ear, sending a jolt of warmth straight to your core. “open your presents first,” he adds, almost gently, as if this were some sort of normal moment. but you know the underlying intensity of this—his eyes darken slightly, giving away the hunger beneath that cool, collected exterior.

you glance at the presents, feeling the urge to push them aside. "can we skip this part? i’m… i’m not really in the mood for presents right now," you admit, feeling bold as your fingers creep up to the collar of his shirt, tugging him toward you.

“mhm,” he hums, leaning in, his lips hovering near your neck. “is that so?” his voice is warm, teasing, but you know better than to think he’s not already on the same page as you. “then why don’t you tell me what you really want for your birthday?”

“you,” you breathe, and the moment the word leaves your lips, he’s pulling you into him.

before you can blink, he’s leading you to the edge of the couch, his hands expertly pushing your dress up over your thighs. he pauses for a moment, his eyes scanning you with a lazy, hungry look before his hands slide down to your panties. with a flick of his fingers, they’re gone, discarded onto the floor. you barely register the movement before his mouth is on you—hot, wet, and insistent. your body tenses at the immediate pressure, his tongue flicking over your clit in teasing circles. you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair as he works his magic, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

he takes his time, savoring the taste of you, every movement slow and deliberate. “you look so fucking good,” he mutters between kisses, one hand grabbing your hip and pulling you closer as if he can't get enough of you. “you’re my favourite thing, you know that?”

you moan in response, trying to control the growing wave of pleasure, but it’s no use. his tongue flicks over you in just the right way, and you’re already close, the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter. “theo, i—oh god,” you choke out, your body arching up to meet him.

“come on, birthday girl, let go,” he urges, his voice low and thick with desire. “i’ve got you, sweetheart.”

he flicks his tongue over your clit one last time, just hard enough to send you over the edge, and you gasp, fingers digging into the back of his head as you come hard, your legs trembling beneath him. he doesn’t stop, though—his pace quickens, sucking harder as he overstimulates you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you’re practically begging him to stop.

he doesn’t listen to your pleas. instead, he keeps going, tongue relentless against your sensitive skin, coaxing another orgasm out of you despite the tremors in your body. “god, look at you,” he groans, barely pulling away to catch his breath. “so fucking perfect for me.”

you’re barely holding it together at this point, feeling like you’re on the edge of breaking as he moves back in again. he keeps you on the edge, making sure that each flick of his tongue makes you scream his name, your hands gripping the couch cushion beside you for support.

you can feel your body aching from the overstimulation, but all he does is grin, his eyes dark with hunger. “happy birthday, baby. again,” he whispers, pulling away for just a moment to make sure you’re catching your breath. his lips are swollen from kissing you so much, and his eyes gleam with dark satisfaction.

“how about you open your presents now?” he suggests, voice rough and hoarse.

you smirk, still panting from your orgasms, and raise an eyebrow. “are they going to compare to what you just gave me?”

theodore chuckles darkly, a wicked glint in his eye. “oh, well i don’t know about that. but i do know i’m gonna make this birthday one to remember.”

[dinkerr]

thinking about housewife mechanic vi ♡!! (this is so fucking short i'm embarrassed.)

｡･ﾟ･♡･ﾟ･｡ mechanic vi who lived in the trenches before she met you. she was working in the garage almost every day, constantly staining every scrappy wife beater shes had for 7 years with oil and grease, who lived in the cheapest apartment in new york, and all she has in her fridge is beer.

mechanic vi who, after she sees you pulling up to her shop and saying something along the lines of "the engine has something wrong with it", or "that you want something repaired" is immediately embarrassed with her current state. tussled cherry wine hair, greasy shirt, sweaty biceps and forehead and all you can do is stare at her the whole time she's looking at your car.

mechanic vi who calls all her clients and schedules a further date for all of them so she can work with you and your car first, making sure to buy a brand new wife beater that's just like all the other ones she works in, though it's cotton and soft.

mechanic vi who loves her baby, her 1966 cherry red ford mustang to death. she's constantly driving you to places and around her favourite parts and bars of brooklyn when you start dating.

mechanic vi who pulls into your driveway to drop you home and leans over to kiss you before you have the chance to open the door, one of her hands holding your chin and the other on the back of the headrest.

mechanic vi who'll give you her puppy eyes and begging for you come sit on her lap and ride her after you tug at her hair in the middle of said making out...

mechanic vi, who after you marry, is in the garage of your shared house every afternoon, loud music playing on her speaker. and HEAR ME OUT, you'd be picking up your kid from daycare or whatever while she does so and all your daughter wants to do is help her momma in the garage (and vi insists, because she knows that you time is important for you), trying to remember every little thing vi tells her about when she's sitting on her lap or after she's been lifted to be sat on the hood of her car.

hii i know i say this alot but this is absolute ass and it's really short and i feel like the quality of this is really bad if that makes sense?? when i first started writing i really tried my best to take my time to write longer, better quality projects and i feel like lately i've been just trying to get things out as quick as possible even though i'm not really posting everyday like before if that makes sense. let me know what you think i guess?? would you rather me take a couple of days to make something longer or do really quick and short things like this

[wendichester]

Hello again! I swear, I look forward to your fics everyday - I just can't get enough!!!

I had an idea and thought you would be the perfect writer if you're up for it!

Could you write a reader that has to use her inhaler after big fights? Usually she hides it, but either Sam or Dean sees her use it after a really rough fight/hunt. And I'd love to see whatever kind of relationship you think fits this! Wether it's teasing her, making sure she's okay, fluff, romance, etc. - I know you would write it well no matter what dynamic you choose!!

Anyways, even if you don't write this, I just want you to know that your fics are one of the highlights of my day among the chaos happening around me in the U.S. right now

⊹₊⟡⋆ breathe,

summary. you've been keeping the fact that you're asthmatic for some time now. til dean notices. he always does.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 598

notes. thank you so much for requesting and I'm happy to be part of your days and help them feel a little better. hit me up if you ever need to talk hun 🩷

The second the hunt is over, you disappear.

Dean notices.

He’s still catching his breath, hands braced on his knees, heart hammering from the fight. It was brutal—vamps, too many of them, all claws and fangs and blood-streaked grins. But you held your own. You always do.

So why the hell did you bolt the second the last body hit the floor?

“Hey, you seen—?” He turns to ask Sam, but his brother is busy wiping blood off his face, barely registering the question.

Dean’s eyes scan the abandoned barn, the moonlight pouring through broken slats in the roof. Then he sees movement—just outside, near the Impala.

You.

And you’re bent over, hands braced on the car, shoulders rising and falling too fast. His stomach drops.

Dean moves without thinking, crossing the space in seconds. He expects to see blood, a wound you didn’t mention, some kind of damage—

But then he hears it. The sharp, practiced inhale. The soft hiss of a familiar sound.

You freeze when you notice him. Your body goes stiff, fingers still wrapped around the inhaler, but it’s too late.

Dean stops short, eyes flicking between your face and the little plastic device in your hand. He processes it in real time—the way your chest is still tight, your breath still uneven, the way you’re looking at him like you just got caught stealing the damn moon.

He blinks. “You’re asthmatic?”

You exhale, slow and measured. “It’s not a big deal.”

Dean’s brows shoot up. “Uh, yeah, it kinda is.”

You shove the inhaler into your jacket pocket like that erases the fact that he just saw you use it. Like you can make it disappear. “I don’t like making a thing out of it.”

Dean scoffs. “A thing out of breathing?”

You roll your eyes. “I can breathe fine, Dean.”

“Oh, yeah? That why you were over here suckin’ on that thing like it was oxygen straight from Heaven?”

You glare at him, but it lacks heat. Mostly because you’re still a little winded.

Dean softens. Just a little.

“How long?” he asks.

You hesitate. “Since I was a kid.”

Dean nods, tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t like the thought of you struggling with this alone. Doesn’t like that you’ve been keeping it a secret.

“You always hide it?”

Your arms cross over your chest. “I don’t need you guys hovering every time I get a little winded.”

Dean tilts his head. “Sweetheart, we just fought off a goddamn vampire nest. I’m winded. This ain’t ‘a little.’”

You shift on your feet, uncomfortable under his gaze. “It’s under control.”

Dean watches you for a long beat. Then he reaches out, taps his knuckles lightly against your chin.

“Next time, don’t run off, yeah?”

You open your mouth to argue, but he keeps going.

“I ain’t gonna make a big deal outta it, alright? Just—” He huffs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Just let me know you’re okay.”

Something in his voice makes your chest tighten—but not in the bad way. In the way that makes you want to believe him.

You nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

Dean gives you a look, one that lingers, one that feels like an unspoken I mean it.

Then he smirks, nudging your shoulder. “You know, if you ever need mouth-to-mouth, I volunteer as tribute.”

You groan. “And there it is.”

Dean grins, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the car. “Come on, Wheezy, let’s go.”

You elbow him in the ribs, but he just laughs, holding you closer.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @img14 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ⋆ @aerinu ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @bejeweledinterludes ( continues in the comments )

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you overworking yourself (maknae line) !

pairings: maknae line x reader (find the hyung line ver. here)

genre: fluff, suggestive ? (dino)

word count: 900

cw: overworking, light cursing

a/n: second part to the last reaction! tried to make this shorter and a little less angsty since i feel like i made the last one unnecessarily long. also thank yall so much for 100 followers!! i only started posting a couple days ago and i definitely wasn't expecting so many people to enjoy my work, i love you my kings ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ )

dk - dokyeom will do everything in his power to distract you from whatever you're doing. hunched over your computer? he's pulling you up and asking to dance. you're at the office for way longer than usual? he's calling you and telling you he's fainted, just for you to rush home and be greeted by a bear hug that you'll never escape.

he does it all in a jokingly manner, but in reality he is so scared that you're pushing yourself too far. at one point he'll sit you down and plead for you to take off some hours, and of course you can't say no when he gives you those puppy eyes.

mingyu - mingyu waits outside of your office when you normally get out of work so he can surprise you with a night out. after 20 minutes of impatiently waiting, he realizes you've decided to keep working, again. so he walks in, ignoring all of the staff that gawk at the fact they've never seen someone so attractive walk into the office (maybe besides you *wink*).

when you notice someone peer over your cubicle, you look up to be met by mingyu's face.

"gyu? what are you doing here?" he frowns in response.

"to pick you up, of course! need to get you off this damn computer," he mutters, walking around the cubicle so he can shut down your computer. "hey! i really need to finish-" he cuts you off, "you've been doing this to me all week babe, you don't see that this isn't healthy?" when you try to argue against him, he shuts you down with, "you'd do the same if it were me, so please, let me take care of you."

the8 - you know minghao is going to be so pissed when you get home. it's around 1 in the morning, and you're just now getting out of the office. your phone is dead, but you already know your boyfriend has called you a multitude of times.

when you finally enter your apartment, you see minghao at the counter. he sighs before making his way to you.

"were you seriously working this whole time? don't you know how late it is?" you apologize, trying to explain why you decided to stay back, but he unexpectedly embraces you.

"i don't think you know how much you scared me. you didn't even answer my calls y/n," he mumbles into your hair, only humming at your response when you tell him your phone died. "come on, i'll give you a bath," he suggests, dragging you towards the bathroom without giving you a chance to respond.

seungkwan - when you call seungkwan to tell him that you'll be home late again, he's very, very upset to say the least.

"baby, this better be a joke. it's already so late right now! how will you get home? wait- don't answer that- i'll be there in 5 minutes. don't move a single foot! love you!" and then he hangs up.

you try to finish what you can before seungkwan calls you, "y/n! i'm here, and don't you ignore me to keep working because i'll drag you out here if i have to." you definitely do not want to test THE boo seungkwan, so you pack up quickly. when you get down to the lobby, you're met with a rather determined looking seungkwan? something like that.

"that's more like it, now let's go home, you've been ruining my sleep schedule," then he grabs your hand. sure, he said he wouldn't drag you outside, but he wants you home and asleep by 10:00 pm sharp tonight.

vernon - vernon respects the hustle, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. he sits next to you and proceeds to watch you unravel for the next 4 hours as you try to hold your group project together.

you're pacing back and forth in the living room, rambling on how you just finished an exam and the last you want to do is carry your group project. he realizes it's too much, so he gets up off the couch to give you a back hug.

"hey, it's okay. you don't need to push yourself like this." he says, swaying you from side to side. "hansol, this is really important,"

"i know, but i can't just watch you tire yourself out like this, at least let me help you," to which you comply because with the way he's holding you, you're lowkey in a daze.

dino - chan's plan to get you to stop working? seducing you, duh. well- it's actually his like 50th plan, his 49 other attempts doing a whole lot of nothing. you're on your bed, tapping away on your computer when chan suddenly crawls onto the bed.

"chan? what are you doing?" he shuts your laptop before pulling you in for a kiss. you're wide-eyed, unsure if you should try to pull away or let him do what he wants, a little surprised he's so determined to get you to stop working. tossing the laptop to the side, he pins you to the bed and starts kissing your neck.

"babe, my work..." you say, attempting to keep your priorities straight as he basically devours you. he chuckles, "i think i have a better way to spend your time," it's going to be another long night, but this time, it's not because of your work.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Hideaway

Label Mature 18+

Summary After a long press tour and back to back filming schedule Austin goes completely off grid. He takes you with him to a secluded mountain town where he temporarily recharges in solitude away from the spot light.

💝Romantic Smut💝 Austin sweet • calm • affectionate • overworked • hiding away • at peace • couples dynamics• passionate p in v • cream pie • aftercare

Inspo Based on his last sighting in Colorado-written in a few hours bc he’s officially Missing 😭

Hideaway

It’s quiet in Colorado.

The kind of quiet that fills your lungs with crisp mountain air, where the only sounds are the rustling of trees and the distant rush of a river somewhere down the valley.

Austin wanted this— a break from the flashing cameras, from premieres and press tours, away from always having to be “Austin Butler” instead of just… being Austin.

A secluded mountain town in Colorado is where he decided to temporarily slip out of the spotlight of fame.

Here, he’s just your boyfriend.

The two of you have fallen into an easy rhythm —waking up slow, cooking breakfast in the rental villa’s cozy kitchen, running errands like any normal couple.

He pulls on an old hoodie and a well worn pair of jeans, his trucker hat perched low over his blue eyes as he blends in with the locals.

No one recognizes him when you stop at the little general store or have a fresh pressed juice from the small town café.

It isn’t until you’re at a major grocery store, wandering the aisles hand in hand, that someone finally clocks who he is.

A fan stops mid-aisle, her eyes going wide.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, looking between the two of you. “You’re Austin Butler.”

Austin, ever the gentleman, grins warmly, tilting his head slightly. “I am,” he admits, his voice as soft and easy as ever. “Nice to meet you.”

She fumbles for her phone, nearly dropping it in her excitement. “I—um—can I get a picture? I’m such a huge fan.”

“Of course,” he says without hesitation. —He always obliges, he always makes time.

He takes the photo with her and even asks if she wants to check it to make sure she likes it before flashing her another easy grin.

“Thank you so much.” she says clutching her phone looking up at him star struck.

As she leaves practically beaming you shake your head, watching him with fond amusement. “You really are the nicest person ever aren’t you,” you tease.

Austin grins slinging an arm around your shoulder as you head for the checkout. “I figure, if I can leave someone feeling better than before they met me, I must be doing something right.” He says giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Back at the secluded rental villa, nestled against the mountains, you finish putting the groceries away while Austin stretches with a sigh, rolling his shoulders before plopping down to lay on the oversized couch.

“You look so comfortable,” you tease, as you sit beside him, tucking your legs under you.

He hums, tilting his head back against the cushions, his blue eyes half-lidded in pure contentment. “That’s because I am,” he says, his voice low and lazy.

You slowly lay on top of him, running your fingers through his hair, the shaved cut from his last role finally growing back, thick and soft.

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch, a low, satisfied hum sounding from his chest.

“How does it feel having a little hideaway?” you ask quietly.

Austin exhales slowly, like he’s actually taking in the question, considering it.

Then he opens his eyes, looking at you with that wise, thoughtful expression of his.

“Like I can breathe easier,” he says. “Like I don’t have to be anything but here with you.”

His words melt something inside you, and you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. He kisses you back, slow and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to do nothing but give you his affection.

Later at night, the two of you make drinks—whiskey for him, something a little sweeter for you—and you slip into the hot tub outside.

The villa sits at the base of the San Juan Mountains, the jagged peaks stretching into the endless star scattered sky, the dark silhouettes vast against the deep blue.

Austin leans back, stretching his arms along the edge of the tub, his head tilted up as he takes in the view. The steam rises around you both and he sighs, glancing over at you with a lazy smile.

You lean toward him, your legs brushing his under the water. “You glad we came here?” you ask.

He reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “I’d go anywhere as long as I’ve got you,” he grins, squeezing your hand gently. “But yeah… I love it here— I love being with you.“

Your heart swells at the sincerity in his words. “I love being here with you too,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again.

This kiss is longer, deeper, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck as he tilts his head, drawing you in closer.

The warmth of the water, the crisp night air, the way he kisses you—it all becomes intoxicating.

You pull back slightly breathless. “You want go inside?” you ask.

He smirks slow and teasing “Yeah” he says his eyes heavy with desire for you.

You head to the master bedroom, the glow of starlight spilling through the windows, casting soft shadows across the room.

Your wet swimwear is discarded and forgotten on the floor as Austin lays on top of you, his body warm and solid against yours.

His lips move over yours, deep and unhurried, his hands cradling the back of your neck as he presses closer, kissing you like he never wants to stop.

His breaths grow heavier, his chest rising and falling against yours as he nudges your legs apart, making space.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to look down at you as he lines himself up. “Look at me,” he whispers, his voice low and thick.

You do, and the moment your eyes meet his, he pushes in slow, filling you inch by inch. His lips return to yours as a soft needy moan escapes you, captured by his kiss.

His hands trail down your sides, fingers gliding over your soft skin before cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples in slow, gentle circles.

He lifts slightly, watching your face as he pushes in deeper, his hips angling just right.

The sensation makes you moan, your hands clutching at his arms, the pleasure building with every slow, measured thrust.

His blue eyes darken, the heat in them making you even hotter, and your moans turn into soft, desperate whimpers as the pleasure inside you reaches its peak.

He feels it—the way your body tightens around him as you come, the way your legs pull him in even closer as you moan his name.

His hand braces against the bed while the other slides under your back, pulling you flush against him with every thrust.

His abs flex as he drives deeper, his rhythm faltering as he nears his own release.

His breaths turn ragged, little moans slipping past his lips, making you gaze up at him in pure wrecked lust.

His focus is entirely on you, his pupils blown wide, his expression raw with need.

And then, with one final thrust, his hips twitch forward, his body tensing as he spills deep inside of you, a low guttural groan rising from his chest.

He lays down heavily on you as he rides it out, pushing into you one final time, his breaths becoming a soft broken moan as he fills you completely.

For a moment, he stays there, chest rising and falling against yours, his skin warm and slick. His forehead rests against your temple, his breaths mingling with your own as he slowly comes back to himself.

Then, with a deep exhale, he presses a soft kiss to your lips before carefully pulling out.

The loss makes you whimper, and he soothes you instantly, caressing your hip as he eases off of you.

He lays on the bed beside you, his body heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction and you shift closer, wrapping a leg over his waist, placing your hand across his chest where his heart beats steadily beneath your palm.

Austin hums, content, his fingers trailing lazily up and down your spine, grounding you both in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You tilt your head up slightly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you can see how at peace he is. “Are we ever going to go back ?” you grin.

Austin lets out a soft, lazy laugh, his fingers slipping into your hair, trailing gently. “We’ll go back.” He smiles.

You kiss his jaw, tightening your leg around his waist a little more as he pulls you closer.

“Let’s stay here just a little longer then,” you smile.

Austin sighs happily, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Just a little longer.” he agrees softly, his hand still tracing gentle patterns along your back.

As you gaze through the floor-to-ceiling windows together, the stars shimmer brightly above the jagged Colorado peaks, and wrapped in the warmth of Austin’s embrace, you both fall into a deep peaceful sleep.

End 🏔️

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[suiana]

yandere! dragon hybrid who's been ostracized since birth. his father fell for a dragon and his mother died during child birth. it's been him and his father since and things with the rest of society haven't been good. after all dragon-human relationships are taboo and you know how people are with those deemed weird.

yandere! dragon hybrid who's bullied and left out. no matter how hard he tries, it's never enough. people are heartless, even if his father tries to tell him otherwise. how can you change the foundations of society? when all humans are taught that dragons are dangerous and a threat to mankind. poor little dragon, left to deal with life all alone... then he met you :3

"why're you crying?" huh? is someone talking to him? he quickly wipes away the tears, sniffling softly as he musters up a small smile. can't show anyone he's hurt. it'll just worsen things and he doesn't want his father to worry. "n-nope! not at all!" "you're lying!" the young dragon can only watch in silence as your tiny hands rub at his wet cheeks, your warm body fitting snugly by his side. huh... this feels nice. is this what it's like to have a friend? do you want you be friends? "don't cry! crying is bad because it means you're sad." you pause before grinning at him. for a moment, the little boy feels his heart skip a beat. is this normal? is he sick? he hopes not. he doesn't wanna be sick, not when he finally feels wanted by someone. "you can come to me if you're sad! I'll make you happy!"

yandere! dragon hybrid who grows up by your side as your best friend. you two are both adults now and you're the only one who's been nice to him. even when he's tried befriending others, none are as sweet or as welcoming as you are. it hurt at first but he's learned to accept it. it's okay if others are mean, you're by his side, and that's all that matters.

"you're my best friend." best friend. somehow, that title is a little irritating to him. but he pushes it aside. why would it be annoying? it must just be him overthinking things again. no one's going to steal you away from him. "yeah, you're my best friend too." the dragon feels his heart flutter again. oh, your sweet smile and beautiful voice... how he wants to capture this moment and put it on repeat for eternity. sure, the best friend thing is still off-putting but like, you're here! that's all that matters. he'd give up everything for you, you know? but then you just have to go and mess it up by running to that boy again. "again?" he feels his annoyance spike again. it's like the best friend title but worse. this... this boy. you've been getting too close to him lately. all you ever do is gush about him when you get the chance and it's starting to get on his nerves. you don't get this excited talking to someone who's 'just a friend'. "mhm! sorry, I'll be back tomorrow!" and off you go, running along with that nobody and leaving him in the dust. best friend? hah! that's it. he's made up his mind about this... issue. you're being stolen away from him and he's going to fix it. don't worry, you only need him anyway. who needs another friend when you have him?

yandere! dragon hybrid who's turned out to be rather possesive. he's decided he doesn't want to be just friends anymore and now he's making sure you see that. by killing off that guy you're crushing on, of course. i mean, what better way than to show you?

"get away from me!" he pouts. you've never screamed at him before. is it because he's dirty? well, he supposes that he is covered in blood. does it stink? "I'm sorry, I'll clean up and we can go for ice cream-" "ice cream?! you think we can just go back to being normal after you- you killed him?!" oh, you're really mad. the dragon's smile falters and he lowers his clenched fist. what to do... what to do... he really doesn't like making you upset. he remembers throwing your toy away once and you ignored him for a whole week! he never wants to experience that again! "I'm sorry... what do you want me to do? how do i make up for it?" he smiles again. ah, right. maybe he can just get rid of another pest that's been annoying you? perhaps that guy that's been looking at you funny? maybe you'd like it? "no! you can't make it up to me! he's dead god damnit! you're a murderer! just piss off and leave me alone!" silence. then he's caging you against a wall. his eyes are wide, face completely devoid of his usual smile and warmth as he keeps you trapped between him and the cold wall. he can't let you escape. he won't let you. you're his. "you're mine, remember? my best friend." best friend... he doesn't like the sound of that anymore. it's too... how do you say it. too small of a title. too small to encapsulate how he feels about you. "i want all of you, darling."

yandere! dragon hybrid who finally has you. yay! you're his now! sure you might be a little snappy but that's alright! you'll warm up to him again and you two will be happy together! only this time, you're not just friends anymore.

"oh piss off. i don't need you staring at me 24/7." it's been like this for a few days now and your dragon's feeling a little down. he knows that humans are emotional. hell, he's half of a human! but he really misses how you used to treat him and he just wants you to smile at him again. "I'm sorry..." what does he say now? you're mad at him and clearly don't want him to bother you. is it because he took you to his secret hide out? he hasn't told you about this place before because he wanted to surprise you. but clearly you aren't happy :( "you're just really beautiful." he means it. you're the stars, the flowers, and everything that's beautiful in this world. if he had it his way, you'd be the face of beauty anywhere and everywhere. the dragon looks up and freezes. is that... a blush he sees? "...flattery will get you no where." god! you're blushing AND saying that! it feels like heaven's blessing him! "a-ah..." he stammers and looks away, rubbing his fingers together. inside, his heart is thumping and his brain is racing with imaginary scenarios. soon, you'll want him to compliment you! and then- "my mate." god, he hopes that day comes soon. to call you his mate... that would be a dream.

[logansbaby]

DIET PEPSI | Logan Howlett

❥ summary: stuck in a place of unspoken desires and longing, the limousine drives only further ignite the spark between logan howlett and you. months of built up lust, feelings, and emotions bubble over when you take control.

word count: 8.1k

pairings: old man logan howlett x fem!reader

content warnings: 18+ content MDNI, masturbation, messy kissing + spitting, oral (f receiving), begging, dry humping, pussy pronouns bc i said so, unprotected p in v, gagging?, car sex, pet names (baby, honey, princess), logan being logan

❥ a/n: this is a repost from my old account but please enjoy anyway! this was inspired by diet pepsi by addison rae <3 ive said it before but reading this back, i need to be sedated omg

— ⋆˚୨♡୧⋆｡˚⋆

TENSION simmers in the air of the limousine as two people engage in a silent staring contest through the rearview mirror. The cool air blasting from the air vents does little to dismantle the heat bubbling in the small space.

Though nonchalance is painted on your face, a darker, seductive glint glimmers in your eyes, a challenge settling within them. You tilt your head, tongue slipping out to glisten your lips with saliva.

There's no shame evident in your gaze; your body is thrumming with pure, hot need and you could cry out with how bad you need the man in the driver's seat.

Logan isn't faring much better— fists gripping the steering wheel so tight that his healing knuckles turn white, a frown etching deep in his features. He’s desperate to hold onto the tiny sliver of control he has left, mind working to come up with anything to keep him away from giving into this.

This thing between you both started the minute you settled in the backseat of his limousine all those months ago and the unspoken desire has only grown since then.

It’s like there’s something tethering you to him— it’s why you keep coming back to him, calling for his car services despite the fact that your car has long since been fixed. You find yourself craving him, though you haven’t even had a taste.

Yet.

You won’t give in first, though. As much as you’ve wanted to climb over the seat and suck his cock right then and there as he drives, you’ve held back, just barely.

Logan is a man of very few words and he prefers actions to voicing his feelings. He’s shown you he’s softened to you in the way he hums as you ramble on each car ride. He’s shown it in the way he shows up when you both know you don’t need his help anymore. He doesn’t say it, but you know he wants you as much as you want him, and you’ve been waiting for him to finally give in, to make you his.

As soon as you sat down tonight, fresh from the club, you knew something was bound to happen, especially with the way Logan’s been eying you the entire drive.

Which, it’s important to note that your destination leads to nowhere, you just crave to be as close as possible.

You lean back against the seat, eyes speaking a thousand words as they meet his once more. God, he’s so handsome. His pretty hazel eyes, the slope of his nose, the salt and pepper stubble across his cheeks. Oh, how you want to feel the burn against your—

“Stop that.” Logan’s grunt snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Stop what?” You go for innocence but really, your tone is saturated in want, lust coating each syllable.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what, Logan?” You’re challenging him, and though you can’t see it from the backseat, his dress pants get considerably tighter at the defiant, bratty tone of your voice. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Bullshit,” He counters, eyes flickering to yours and you choose then to bite down on your glossy lips. His knuckles flex with the urge to release the claws piercing beneath his skin; is he crazy for being jealous that he’s not the one biting into the plush skin? “You’re staring at me like you want me to fuck you.”

Heat spreads from your chest to your cheeks at his bluntness. It’s completely correct, but the dirty truth makes you flush, and your panties dampen at the thought.

“It’s not gonna happen, baby.” His tone is confident, sure and it pisses you off. “It’s not, so knock it off.”

You roll your eyes, turning to stare out the window. You’re not sure when it started raining, but the water droplets hit the glass pane harshly with the momentum. The pitter patter of water should distract you from Logan, but it just sends you further spiraling.

How dare he deny your feelings and then call you baby?

Blah, blah, blah! His reasons for keeping you apart are pathetic. You could care less for the years he has on you— you’re a grown woman, and fully capable of deciding what you want. You don’t care what kind of a man he was before he met you; your feelings for him defeat any sense of logic your mind might muster.

You remember how it felt the first time you saw him; wild, untamed butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach the moment Logan’s eyes met yours. You remember how your name sounded on his lips, a rough voice rendering chills across your skin.

That day had been a shitty one, everything had seemed to go wrong. Even more so when your car broke down and your then boyfriend refused to pick you up, instead sending you a link to a limousine service. You were sure nothing would get better from that point on.

But when you sat down in his car, Logan’s presence made you feel safe, and you wracked your brain as to why a stranger made you feel so comfortable, more than anyone had in a while.

Evidently, you kept calling the limo service (if you silently praised your ex for leading you to Logan, no one had to know).

You remember how you began looking forward to seeing him. You remember how talking with him, telling him about whatever, felt normal. You remember how being in the vicinity of him felt like taking a breath of crisp, cool air after months of no oxygen.

Logan’s picked you up from the bar, carried you to your apartment door when you were too drunk to do so yourself. Logan has veered off course when your stomach audibly rumbled during a drive to work. He even grabbed you a milkshake from your favorite retro diner when you told him how you dumped your ex.

He’s been there in every way that counts— he’s close, but not close enough.

Somewhere along the way, you’ve become love sick, reduced to a yearning mess each time you see him, each time only furthering your feelings. All you want is for Logan to accept this thing and let you in, let you ease his troubles and care.

And, you might also want is Logan’s dick deep inside you, his strong body hovering over yours as he fucks you dirty, hard, and rough.

But, details.

“Whatever, Logan.” Huffing, your eyes roll to further showcase your opinion. You shift in your seat, crossing your legs and the action causes the tiny, black dress to slip further up your thighs.

And because Logan has a staring problem where you’re concerned, he sees the roll of your eyes, the expanse of thigh that’s showing. Whenever you’re like this, so unashamed of your need for him, it makes him want to let go of any morals and throw your legs over his shoulders and devour you, lick up the slick he smells. He’d like to finally shut your mouth up, finally stop those bratty comments from pouring out as he fills you up.

Instead, he stays quiet and focuses on the empty road ahead. He can do this, resist your hazy eyes and luscious lips long enough until he gets you to your destination. The radio is switched on then, some pop song filtering through the vehicle in an attempt to lessen the thick, sexual strain permeating the air.

Though, that little action seems to unravel any sense of control over the situation.

His indifference annoys you; here you are, adorned in a black, lacy dress that does nothing to cover your thighs and grips your body deliciously. You even turned down an attractive man at the club in favor of having Logan pick you up; just the thought of him made you immune to another’s charm.

How embarrassing are you? Staying loyal to a man that has decided the course of your relationship without input from you. You would’ve walked away if it were any other person, but you’ve also seen the way he eyes you each time you get inside his car, seen the way his fingers go white as he grips the steering wheel, seen the way his cock goes hard at the sight of you.

And that’s when you decide you’re sick of this. Sick of Logan denying you both mind altering pleasure, sick of him pushing you away, sick of him deciding what’s best for you when you can make your own decisions.

A noisy clink! resounds as you unbuckle your seatbelt, and move toward the front of the car. You feel the prickling gaze on the side of your face as you fit yourself onto the console, hand reaching to turn off the radio knob. You let your fingertips barely graze Logan’s arm as you do so, and you’d think he’s unfazed had you not been so close to see the shudder rack through him, to hear the gruff inhale that has a shaky lilt.

In the corner of your eye, you see his mouth part, but before he can scold you, you remove yourself and land back against the cushion. If you’re going to do this, you want his entire attention on you, not on some shitty song filtering through the radio station.

You adjust yourself, wiggling until you’re comfortable. Parting your thighs, you feel your confidence soar as you note how Logan’s eyes track your movements.

The dress is bunched up around the tops of your thighs and with the way your legs are open, stretched enough that your ankles lean against the opposite sides of the leather, your lacy thong is on display.

One hand trails down to the spot between your legs, where you’re slick and wet with want. You don’t touch yourself right away, instead petting the supple skin of your inner thighs. The other hand moves to caress your breasts as they threaten to spill from the confines of the dress. You sigh, a shiver racketing through you as nimble fingers brush your most sensitive spots with a mere graze.

“What are you—“ Logan starts, but you cut him off because you’re sick of him taking charge of everything.

“Shut up, Logan.” You’re trying to sound stern but with the way you’re softly petting your nipples through the fabric, it’s more breathy than authoritative.

“Fuck,” Logan spits out, trying really hard to not crash but it’s proving to be a bit impossible with the way he can see you teasing yourself. What’s worse is the fact that the intoxicating scent of your pussy is assaulting his senses. He feels high on your smell, on the way he watches through the mirror as you pinch your chest. “Fuck.”

“You know…” You start, but it’s interrupted by a sudden inhale as you finally touch your tender clit through the thin material, pads rubbing softly until that familiar, hot feeling fills your stomach. “I wish I stayed at the club a little longer.”

“Is that right?” If your eyes were open, you’d see how unhinged and feral the man looks. The skin of his knuckles split open as his claws peak out.

A whimper rings loud into Logan’s ears and fuck, that angelic noise will haunt him for the rest of his fucking life. His eyes snap back to see you slowly rolling your hips into your hands, fingers playing with your clit lazily.

“Mhmm, I shouldn’t have called you. Not when you constantly ignore me.” You whine, spreading your legs further apart, feeling a rush you’ve never felt before warm your entire body at the show you’re putting on. “You pretend there’s nothing here, you pretend you don’t want me, and it pisses me off.”

He’s trying so incredibly hard to force the words ‘knock it off and cover yourself up’ out, but he can’t.

He can’t when it’s the furthest thing from what he actually wants. He can faintly see the wet spot on your underwear, and he wants to scream at you to remove the material all together— he’s that desperate to see your puffy, pretty cunt glisten in all its glory.

“I don’t ignore you, baby.” It’s grunted out, the pain of his claws only aiding in his desire as his cock grows uncomfortably stiff in his pants. “But I can’t give you what you want.”

Another roll of your eyes sends a shiver down Logan’s aching back. Oh, if you don’t knock it off, he’s going to make you cry as he fucks your mouth until you’re a mess.

Happy thoughts… Logan thinks, calm thoughts.

“There was this guy in the club.” By the tiny smirk on your lips, he knows he shouldn’t take the bait. He knows you’re trying to push him, trying to get him to let go and take what you both desire. He knows he shouldn’t fall for it.

Too bad hes never been good at listening.

“What?”

The lethal, cold trill of his voice has your eyes flying open and you have the audacity to fucking moan. You’re usually not this… bold? Perhaps Logan just turns you into a feral, needy thing.

“Yeah, he was cute too!” You hum, bubbles of laughter tumbling from bitten lips at the way Logan stares at you, how he gives you a warning look. “He offered to by me a drink, said he wanted to dance.”

“He’s a dick.”

“No, he said I’m pretty.”

“You are pretty.” It’s angry, the way he forces it out, not because it’s untrue, but because the idea of another man trying to make a move on you, his girl, sends anger boiling beneath his skin.

“He was nice, I don’t know why I bothered to turn him down.” It’s through a moan, the way the words are murmured because your fingers are now rubbing circles over your sex in a way that has your hips jolting, legs shaking, and lips shiny with spit.

“He’s an asshole, only wants one thing from you.”

“I don’t care, what if I want only one thing from him too?”

“Careful.” He practically growls, the limousine swerving slightly before he gets control over the wheel again.

He’s not sure when you’ve become so fucking obscene, but he aches to bend you over the hood of the car and teach you a lesson. He’s so overwhelmed with the turn of events, of how so many feelings swirl around beneath his ribcage.

He knows he’s been pushing you away, ignoring whatever spark you have, but fuck? The knowledge you can slip away from him at any moment makes him feel agonized.

“Jealous?” You taunt, the material of your underwear darker with the slick pooling there and you both know Logan can see it.

“No.”

“I gave him my number, you know.” It's spoken so nonchalantly that a snarl threatens to escape deep from Logan’s throat. “He said to call if I need anything…”

“Watch it,” it’s calmly muttered, but Logan’s anything but. He’s torn between actually focusing on the road and watching your fingers roll your clit in the rear view mirror. That, and anger rolls off him in thick, daunting waves at a man he doesn’t even know.

You’ve got him wrapped around your pretty finger and he’s a fool to think anything else. He’s a fool to think he’s been successful in the suppression of his feelings.

“Maybe I should call him,” You suggest, your hand slipping beneath the sodden mesh and finally touching your clit properly. “He was hot.”

Logan’s so wrapped up in your euphoric face and honeyed voice that he’s struggling to remember why he’s riled up.

“Stop tryna piss me off. You’re gonna regret it.” He’s stern, but you just smile and slip the pads of your fingers down to swipe up the arousal pooling at your hole, your whiny pants making his spine go rigid.

“I’m not doing anything, Logan.”

“Bullshit. Whatever you think you’re doing, it’s not gonna work. This can’t happen.”

He’s trying so hard to convince himself as much as you. His words anger you though, because the furrow of your brow deepens and you huff.

“You don’t want me?” You challenge, and you stare him down as your fingers retreat from your cunt. You lift your hand up to your mouth, never once looking away as you stick them past your lips and suck.

Your body jolts when the car swerves wildly, but instead of fear, blistering lust fills you and heats your cheeks. Logan looks so incredibly distraught with how your lips wrap around your fingers, a soft ‘hmmm’ falling from you at the taste of desire blooming across your tastebuds.

“Shit, princess. ‘Course I want you. You don’t know how bad I need you.”

“Please.” You cry out and fuck, you could kill him. Your fingers part from your wandering tongue, traveling down the path of your curves to find your pussy. “Please, please—“

“No.”

“Logan!” You’re so overwhelmed with your blatant need for the man that actual tears pool across your lashes.

“No.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“Don’t give me attitude.” He commands and you must be sick because the stern, finality of his tone has your hole clenching around nothing. “You know why.”

“—oh my god, Logan. Not this again, the ‘I’m too old for you’ excuse is bullshit! I couldn’t care less, I want you to fuck me.”

You’re so forthright that he can’t be blamed with how his stomach churns with intense hunger.

“Way too old for you, baby. You deserve so much more, more than I can give you.”

Logan seems to forget that as much as he’s come to know you, you’ve also picked up on his own habits. So, you know he’s full of shit by the twitch of his hands on the wheel, the tightening of his lips, the way he’s staring at you like a man starved.

“You know what? Fine, that’s fine. I’ll just call Nate and—“

“Who?” The lethal note in his words should scare you, but it just sends another wave of slick to kiss your thighs.

“Nate! The guy from the club,” you say, one hand reaching for the phone hidden in your purse, and the other rubbing circles on your neglected clit.

“I told you, the guy sounds like a dick. The fuck kind of name is that?” Logan’s patience is running out and you both know it, the string tearing further with each tug you give. His eyes widen when you wiggle the phone in his eyeline.“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Why? At least he was willing to fuck me.”

And, oh.

You’re not sure what causes you to say that, but the atmosphere turns tense, filling with anticipation, something dark and dangerous enough that chills run across your skin.

It’s silent. Astonishingly silent as Logan tears his gaze from you, his eyes only forward now. You don’t back down; you know you’re driving the man crazy and it feels fucking good.

Without tearing your eyes from him, you hit the call button.

The sound of the phone dialing has Logan snapping. The car tires screech loudly as Logan slams on the breaks, yanking the wheel to pull of to the side of the road.

Your hands fly out to catch yourself from the swift, jerky motion. A sense of accomplishment bubbles inside your chest as Logan shuts the car off, his body frantic and hurried before he’s out the driver's door.

You’re jittery with nerves, despite the fact you were just rubbing your clit like a madwoman in front of him. You were tempting him, sure. But now that he’s finally snapped, you’re nervous.

You gasp as chilly air hits you in the face when the back door opens. In an instant, he’s in the back with you, slamming the door shut. His presence is so intimidating and powerful that you shiver, arousal licking at your spine as he crowds into your space.

He glares at you, and just as about you’re about to speak, a rough, large hand grips your chin tightly. He squeezes your cheeks, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. His other hand yanks the phone from your fingers and chucks the device in the front seat.

“So fucking stubborn and bratty, always fucking pushing me. Never stop talking, do you?”

“I’ll have you kno—“

Logan slams his mouth onto yours then, effectively shutting you the fuck up.

Oh.

It’s like fireworks are set off in your stomach, a trickle of mind numbing pleasure tingling every inch of you. You’ve imagined this moment for months, wondered how it’d feel, but nothing your imagination conjured up could ever compare to the real thing.

Logan’s kisses are passionate, eager. He lifts your entire body into his lap in one, quick motion. The causal display of his sheer strength causes your body to melt into him. Your choked gasp is swallowed by his lips, his tongue licking at yours and oh, the warm wetness of it sends a wave of flutters straight to your cunt.

His mouth is harsh, the scruff of his beard scratching at your chin with a tasteful burn. His rough hand leaves your thigh to snake into your hair, wrapping the around his fingers until a messy ponytail forms. Without warning, he tugs firmly to pull you from his mouth.

He watches as your eyes fly open, as a string of saliva connects from his lips to yours. He feels pride thrum within his chest as you try to lean in immediately, chasing the taste of him, his kiss, his tongue.

Logan doesn’t allow you though, yanking at your hair to keep you in place.

“Not speaking now, are you?” Logan grunts out, tugging your head back so he can lick a hot, wet stripe up the expanse of your neck. He sucks at the skin there, hips threatening to thrust up at the moans spilling from your open mouth. “Finally found a way to keep you fuckin’ quiet.”

“Logan—“ you start, mind cloudy with the overwhelming feeling of his wet mouth on your skin, but he just smashes his lips on yours again.

And holy fuck, the way he’s kissing you, like he’s been starved of a meal and you’re the only one to satiate the hunger, like he can’t get enough of your taste, has your panties growing even wetter. You snake your arms around Logan’s neck tightly, hips swiveling down in his lap so you can rub yourself over his bulge.

Your moan tangles with the surprised groan from Logan when your center grinds down on his cock, the feeling indescribable, utterly intoxicating and above all— right.

His hand releases your hair in favor of grabbing handfuls of your ass and squeezing, guiding your hips as he licks at the roof of your mouth.

It’s almost embarrassing how riled up you are with just kissing and humping, but you can’t be blamed, not really. Not with the way Logan’s dragging your cunt along his hard cock as he sucks your tongue— it’s so fucking good that his pants are wet with your wetness, even through your panties.

When you finally pull back, its with his bottom lip tucked between your teeth, enticing a hiss from the man as you bite down. You lose your hands in his messy hair, tugging until his eyes open and fuck— his pupils are huge, dark with need for you.

Cradling his cheeks, you lick at his lip, soothing the sting your teeth left. You startle as Logan thrusts up in reaction, the head of him tapping your clit, and despite the barriers between you, it feels fucking amazing.

Logan catches your lips in a messy, slick embrace. There’s no gentleness, only pure sensuality leading his bruising kisses. You get so wrapped up in the pleasure of Logan’s mouth on yours, his cock rutting into your clothed center so delectably that time is lost.

When you push Logan’s face away, it’s because your lungs burn with the need for oxygen.

Logan’s unfazed, lips moving down your throat and leaving wet kisses across your neck. You’re sucking in oxygen desperately, hands shaky as they stroke up and down Logan’s back.

“Fuck, I can smell you.” He mutters against your collarbone, rough hands roaming all over your body, as if he needs to memorize the feel of you.

“Yeah?”

You’re a fucking mess— hands wrappped tightly around the back of his neck, leaving scratches that stay for longer than they would’ve decades prior, and you’re still rolling your hips in his lap, trying and failing to ease the ache in your cunt. It only further intensifies the achy throbbing with each grind of restless hips.

“Smells so fuckin’ sweet. Gonna let me have a taste, baby?”

���Yes! Please, Logan, please.” You’re far too gone, too drunk on the feel of his lips on your skin to care how pathetic you sound.

You lean back, grabbing Logan’s face to meet yours, sighing softly as your wet lips melt together once more. He groans, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair, tugging hard as he turns your head any way he pleases, using you.

You’re not sure how much time passes as Logan devours your mouth, it could be mere minutes or hours, but you’ve been too tangled up in his to care. What you do know is that you feel as though you’re going to explode if you don’t relieve the pressure in your abdomen soon.

You’re whining, pawing at Logan’s chest and rubbing your wetness on the pant of his thigh, trying to get the man to touch you moremoremore.

But Logan’s too occupied with sucking on your tongue and biting your bottom lip meanly. He uses the grip he has on your hair to keep you there, rendered useless as he messily kisses you breatheless.

“Logan, Logan, Logan.” You moan and even though it’s mumbled into his own lips, he hears you all the same.

“Need you. Please.”

And then, it’s like Logan’s realizing the current situation— you, a whimpering mess and rubbing your cunt along his lap as your spit soaked lips mesh with his own in a delicious, salacious embrace. You, who he knows he can’t afford to lose, and if he continues touching you, you’ll fade away like everything else good in his life.

He pushes your face back, but makes no move to remove your weight from his body. A frown settles over your blissed out features, dread replacing the butterflies fluttering about inside you.

“Logan?”

“You don’t want this.” He’s refusing to look at you, his hazel eyes blown out with pleasure wondering around the interior of the limousine as if he hasn’t seen it before, despite owning the vehicle.

“I do. I want this. I want you.” You cradle his bearded face in your hands, thumbs caressing the prickly grays scattered across his cheeks. “I do.”

“No, baby. You don’t, you deserve so much better—“

His words are lost in the air as you connect your swollen lips with his. You bully your tongue inside, swiping along his, sighing when his hips buck up at your boldness. The action has his cock rutting your covered clit in such an angle that you could probably come.

“Can’t you feel how badly I want you?” You whisper, peppering sweet kisses along his cheeks, nose, eyelids. Staring into his eyes, so muddled with conflict and something sweeter, you kiss him properly.

“Shit,” he groans into your mouth, tongues dancing in a pace that has you dizzy, whimpering for mouth as your lace covered mound ruts at his thigh. “Can’t, baby. You deserve someone better, not some old fucking man who’s done more harm than good.”

“I don’t need better, I need you.” You emphasize the point by grabbing his hand and shoving them down your panties.

A symphony of your shared moans ricochets through the small space; you, at the feel of his rough, thick fingers finally touching your slit. Logan because the feel of your sweet, sweet arousal soaking your cunt slippery has him losing it.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to find any excuse as to why he should push you away when kissing you, touching you feels this fucking good. Even as his brain works, his fingers tease your fluttering hole and collect your wetness, dragging it to your clit.

“See? I need you, please. Logan, please.”

You stare up at him, eyes wide with so many things that cause his heart to pump faster and his cock to jerk.

He seals his fate then and there— Logan’s sick and tired of all the bad in his life, and he doesn’t know much, but what he does know is that you make him feel like he can breathe again, like he’s fated for something other than drowning in whiskey. And he’s sick of denying himself of you.

“Fuck it.” He mutters, eyes on your lips before melting into you, lips meshing together wetly.

Your moan is loud and sweet, hands leaving his face in favor of gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the crisp white of the fabric there.

He pulls back, ignoring the need washing over him at the mewl falling from you at the sudden removal of him.

“Shh, baby.” He soothes, a large hand finding purchase on your chin, his fingers teasing your lips and rubbing the saliva there. ��Open up.”

The quickness at which you obey him makes him want to fuck you full of his cock then, but he just barely restrains. Your lips are parted, tongue peaking out and waiting— the picture you paint will be a reoccurring dream.

Logan leans over you before spitting onto your tongue, watching as the saliva glistens on your mouth. You gasp, the act so incredibly dirty and carnal that you shiver in his lap.

“Swallow.” He commands, squeezing your cheeks together, nearly getting lost in the dazed, euphoric look in your eyes. And you do, because you’d do anything Logan asked. ”Atta girl.”

A sob nearly escapes you at that, because fuck, you’re so turned on beyond belief and you’re sure you’ll burst into tears if Logan doesn’t fuck you soon.

Almost like he can read your mind, he moves you around until your back hits the cool, chilly leather of the seat. He settles himself on the floor of the limousine before you, ignoring the aches he feels stinging his lower back.

Logan runs his hands along your legs slowly, teasingly as he presses a kiss on your upper thigh.

“Been dreaming of this pussy for so long.” He starts, leaning until your mound is warm with his breath. You’re trembling, suspense sizzling hot in your stomach as you wait for him to do something. “Everytime you get in the car, I can smell you. And everytime, I want to fucking eat you out.”

“Logan, please.”

And seeing you, someone who’s so unabashedly beautiful and talkative be reduced to a withering mess, has a grin threatening to grace his face.

“I got you, baby. Gonna take care of you.”

And he does.

Logan presses a soft, barely there kiss to your lace covered slit before licking a slow, warm path from your hole to your aching clit.

“Oh my god!” You cry out, thighs trying and failing to clench closed as Logan’s hands keep them spread open. He groans at your taste, the little hint of something addictive, so entirely you.

He grabs each thigh and wraps them around his neck before pulling the sodden material aside with his thumb to finally expose your pussy to him.

And at the sight of your cunt glistening with slick, with unsuppressed desire, makes him fucking lose it.

“She’s so wet, fucking dripping everywhere,” groans, and it takes your muddled brain a second before realizing he’s talking about your pussy.

A moan falls from you, deep from your chest and full of need and hunger as Logan’s tongue swirls over your slit, dipping into your dripping hole. He’s messy with it, completely driven by a primal urge to completely devour you in the most intimate sense. His movements are rash, his appetite stronger than anything else.

Logan leans back a bit, eyes flickering to yours to ensure you’re focused on him before he spits directly onto your pussy.

A gasp sounds, your chest heaving at the warmth of his saliva coating your center, and it’s so dirty, so insanely hot that more slick seeps from you.

Logan leans back, ignoring your whine as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy wide open, your sex bare to him. Its obscene, the way he stares at the mixture of saliva and slick glistening your slit. It’s hot, your cunt crying for him and clenching around nothing as your hips try to buck at his mouth.

Logan laps it all up, tongue flat as he greedily eats you out. And you’re losing it— not only is his tongue fucking you, going as deep as he can, but Logan’s nose is bumping against your clit with each thrust of his mouth. Warmth swarms in your stomach, your thighs shake with a promise of an orgasm in the distance.

“Feels so good!” You manage, your hips thrusting up into his face.

You were right, the beard feels fucking amazing rubbing mean and unforgiving against the sensitive skin of your thighs.

“Tastes so good, the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” Logan moans, switching his tongue with two fingers. His cock hardens even more with the way your cunt swallows his fingers right away, your warm, velvet walls squeezing around them.

That familiar burn swelters in your pelvis, pure heat sizzling through your veins and for a moment, you forget to breathe. It gets worse when Logan suddenly wraps his swollen lips around your tender clit and sucks.

The pleasure of it all is so sudden that it smothers you entirely— your back arching off the leather, your pussy convulsing as Logan’s fingers and tongue work you to an orgasm quicker than you ever have before.

“Logan, oh, please!” You pant, hands tugging the graying tufts of hair, and you’re unsure if you’re trying to push him impossibly closer and away at the same time.

He only releases his suction on your clit when tears prickle your eyes, when you shake on his fingers from the stimulation of it all. He gently places kisses along your sweaty thigh, hands stroking your calves as you struggle to breathe.

“That’s it, honey. I got you.”

“Come here,” is all you have the strength to muster, needing his lips on yours instead of your trembling thighs.

Logan obliges, because if you asked him to get you the moon, he’d do his damn hardest to get it.

“Hi,” you whisper once he’s level with you, body slotted between your limp one. Your arms move without your knowledge and wrap around his nape.

“Hi, baby.”

It’s then you see how insane he looks— his chin, lips, and the tip of his nose is soaked with you. His eyes are wild, hazy with need and his hair is arrayed from wandering fingers. He looks so incredibly handsome right now, in your arms, covered in you that you can’t be blamed for the little moan that escapes.

You tug him close, lips locking in a newly familiar kiss. The taste of you envelopes over your tongue as you lick along his mouth, a satisfied hum vibrating from your lips to his.

What starts as a sweet, lazy kiss turns heated quickly, and though you’ve just come, your sex aches to be filled. Its a mess of tongues and saliva, teeth clashing as your lips interlock and wrap around one another.

Your hands begin to unbutton his shirt, marveling at the feel of muscle that’s revealed with each pop of a button. You shrug the fabric off and grab at his shoulders, nails digging into the skin and trailing down to the middle of his back.

“Fuck!” Logan groans, biting your bottom lip as you scratch at him.

Instead of responding, you push at his chest until he falls into the seat opposite of yours before throwing yourself in his lap again. You’re crazed, an unsatisfied hunger clinging to every inch of you and threatening to overtake your senses.

“Such a fuckin’ brat.” He’s taunting you, but with the way his dick jolts as you yank your dress off, you know you’ve got him right where you want him.

You gaze at him, guiding his hands from your hips to your chest, urging him to take off your bra.

Logan’s too impatient to actually remove the fabric though, because he simply pulls at the cups until they give way to the pressure and your breasts are on display.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” He groans, leaning down and taking a pebbled nipple between his lips. You whine as he suckles, his fingers rubbing and pulling your other nipple. He switches his attention to your other nipple and desire pools in your stomach, heat tingles across your skin, and you can’t wait any longer.

With quick hands, you work to undo his buckle before yanking down his boxers and dress pants in one motion. Logan’s released your chest in favor of watching you nearly drool at his cock.

He’s huge. The tip is flushed, red and swollen and dripping pearly bubbles. His shaft is thick with veins leading down to a patch of short, curled hair. Even in the dim light of the limousine, you note how the vein on his lower stomach connects to the ones decorating his cock. Fuck, you suddenly want to feel the heaviness of him on your tongue. You’d ignore your own needs to choke on the entirety of him. You crave his taste, his come, and—

“Next time, baby.” Logan startles you from your filthy thoughts, and you actually whine at his words. “As much as I’d like to fuck your pretty mouth, I need to be inside you.”

And despite the fact that the man has eaten you out and stolen an orgasm tonight, you flush with warmth.

Logan finds you amusing, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock and yanking you until your hole is kissing his tip. Your hips move forward, and a whole body shiver wracks through you when your clit brushes his shaft.

“C’mon, princess. Show me how bad you want it.” He emphasizes his taunt with a squeeze of your waist, his lips brushing yours. “Not so cocky now, huh?”

Oh, you’re gonna make sure he’s as desperate as you are.

With a glare, you push his hand away and wrap yours around his cock, guiding it to your wet, slick hole. Logan merely raises an eyebrow as your other hand grips his shoulder to lift yourself up enough. Without warning, you sink down onto the the tip of him, nails digging into his shoulder at the overwhelming feeling bubbling over you.

“Fuck,” Logan growls, head leaning forward onto your shoulder as you squeeze around him purposefully, cunt sucking him down bit by bit as you lower yourself, only stopping when he fills you to the brim.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” You huff, a grin on your flushed face as you repeat his previous words back at him.

Logan doesn’t respond, to focused on not coming immediately— you’re so fucking tight, so wet and warm that he’s struggling.

The stretch is painful, but not unpleasant as you adjust to his size. When the burn fades away and instead comes a delicious thrum, you unleash.

You lift your hips up, enticing a broken moan from Logan as you move up and slam back down in slow, articulated motions.

“Feel so good, baby. So good.”

“Yeah?” You say, hands creeping into his hair to pull each time his tip brushes that spot inside you.

“Yeah.” The kiss he presses to your cheek makes your heart flutter, an act so pure in the midst it all.

You continue your torturous pace, pride warming your chest when Logan’s hands tighten on your hips, urging you to go faster.

You could go faster, but you like the way Logan looks like he’s struggling to sunk in oxygen each time his cock fills your cunt.

You catch his mouth in an open, wet kiss. He grunts, and before you can even think, Logan moves his hips upwards and you fucking whine.

Suddenly, Logan’s stripped you of control and thrusts his cock deep inside you in quick, harsh movements. You’re fucking dripping, desire slicking your thighs and Logan’s. He feels so good and he’s so deep and he’s holding you in place so you have no choice but to take it, take the assaulting pace he’s set.

“Shit,” Logan grits out, arms tightly wrapped around your midsection as he fucks you from below. “Such a mess, aren’t you?”

You’re so overcome with euphoria, so deeply gone in the waves of pleasure, that you can only nod. Each time he’s fucks up into you, his pubic bone brushes your puffy, throbbing clit in a delicious graze that has tears gathering at your lash line.

“This is what you wanted? For me to fuck you dumb?” He mutters between clenched teeth, his hips moving in a deadly way now. “You wanted to be fucking full of me, huh?”

“Yes!” You mewl, mouth falling onto his as your tongues messily swirl around, moans and groans mixing with the wet kisses.

The pressure building in your abdomen is almost too much, teasing you each time his cock slams inside. Despite being as close as physically possible, you ache to be closer.

You stop Logan, lifting yourself off him with a hiss. The sudden absence of him leaves you feeling uncomfortably empty and unconsciously, your hole clenches as wetness drips from you and onto the leather seats.

“What’s wro—“ you cut him off by pushing him until he’s laying back on the long seat. Once he’s settled down, with sweat glistening his chest, you climb shakily back onto his lap.

Sighs of relief echo through the air as your cunt sucks him down and a filthy squelch sounds. With him like this, he’s somehow deeper. You’re so incredibly full and it feels incredible.

The tingling, sweltering sensation in your cunt has you grinding across his lap, the base of his cock rubbing your clit delicately.

“Fuck. Doin so good for me.” Logan bends an arm behind his head so he can watch the way your eyes roll back with each grind, the way your tits jostle with each thrust and hump. “That’s it, baby.”

His praise has you finding a delicious, intoxicating rhythm as you lift up and down, up and down. The ridges and veins of his shaft kiss your walls and your thighs tremble with the feeling. Your hands reach back and grip your asscheeks to pull them apart further, needing his cock to go even deeper.

Logan is enamored by the sight before him— his pretty girl desperately splitting her cunt onto his cock, eyes rolling back with spit-slicked lips resembling an ‘o’.

His hand wraps around your throat tightly, pulling you down until your chest is flush against his. The action has you clumsy, arms swinging out to grip whatever is nearest to steady yourself. He places both hands across your ass and lifts you like you weigh nothing, mimicking your previous thrusts with more force, more speed.

A harmony of ‘uh, uh’s’ filter in his ears as Logan uses you and fucks you down onto his cock. You’re a whining mess, latching onto him tightly as his hips start to thrust upwards as his hands slam your hips back down in tandem.

He wishes that he had his phone close because seeing you like this is a picture he wants to capture forever.

“C’mon, baby. Can feel how close you are.” He grits out between thrusts. One hand leaves your ass to cradle your slackened jaw, gripping tight enough as he forces your eyes on his.

Logan pushes his thumb past your lips and a deep moan falls from him when you suck at him immediately. With your gaze never leaving his, you mimic a blowjob as you suck and swirl your tongue along his thumb.

“Mine.” Logan grunts, his digit pressing down onto your tongue. He feels a sick sense of pleasure envelope him as you gag at the pressure, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “My fuckin’ girl.”

You nod instantly, a sweet, gooey feeling spreading across your chest at his words, his voice. You pathetically grind down as Logan fucks upward, spit glistening your lips and his thumb as you messily suck on him.

An overbearing urge to get you to climax surges within him, and he sighs mockingly when you moan as his thumb slips from the confines of your pretty mouth. With a new vigor, Logan fucks you harder, faster, dirtier. He slips a hand between your sweaty bodies and when his fingers swirl over your clit, you explode.

The roughness of his hips, the precision of his fingertips on your clit, and the intensity of the moment catches up with you and you’re coming abruptly. It’s intense, the way a maddening bliss coats your entire body and soul. It leaves you breathless and dizzy as your eyes prickle with spots along your vision.

You’re moaning, words unintelligible against the warmth of Logan’s chest, and your cunt squeezes around him in sharp, sporadic pulses.

Logan’s so close to losing it and you don’t even realize, too busy trying to inhale oxygen into greedy lungs. Huffs tumble from you, but instead of really trying to breathe, you lift your face to pepper wet, open mouthed kisses across his torso and that does it for him.

“Fuck…” Logan moans, gutteral and rough as he slams your hips down onto his cock, his cock painting your walls with come as euphoria encompasses him entirely. “Fuck, baby.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire— clit throbbing with overstimulation as Logan’s cock continues to fill you to the brim with his orgasm. Tears of pleasure have spilled over the apples of your cheeks, the your hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face.

You continue to gently kiss up his chest and neck before you move to cradle Logan’s face. Eyes fill with astonishment as you take in the way his eyes roll with the aftershocks of his peak. Thumbing at his cheeks, you kiss his lips gently before pressing kisses all along his face. His cheeks, the slope of his nose, his chin, forehead, and even the furrow of his brows.

You don’t even notice Logan staring at you with complete adoration until he removes your hand to kiss your palm.

You smile at him, bashful even with his softening cock is still inside you, stuffing you full of his come.

“C’mere.” He says, pulling you close until your lips melt over one another’s in a sweet, passionate kiss.

With a sudden thought, you pull away and fix him with a stern stare. Unfortunately for you, the furrow of your brows and purse of your lips only causes his heart to beat faster beneath the adamantium ribcage. You just look so pretty right now, sitting atop of him breathless and sweaty, a glaze settled over your irises.

“What's that face for?” His brow is raised and a smile is teasing his swollen lips.

“No more pushing me away, Logan.”

His gaze softens then, reminded of his self sabotage and the way he’s been adamant in keeping you at arms length, despite his yearn for more, his need for you.

“No more pushing you away, baby.” His lips meet yours softly, finality in his tone that eases your worries and wandering thoughts.

You lay your head down in the crook of his neck and hug him, intent to never let him go. Logan’s heart clenches with an emotion he’s not quite yet ready to face, so he presses a kiss to your hairline as his fingers stroke your back.

The atmosphere is no longer tense, but rather peaceful— every single desire has been satiated to the point calmness emerges. Eventually, he knows he’ll have to pull away from you and actually drive you home (and he will be coming inside, he can’t wait to properly fuck you in your bed), but he wants to stay in your embrace a little longer. It’s a blissful moment, and the serenity of it is something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Logan?” You whisper, sleepy as you rub your nose along his neck.

“Yeah, honey.”

“I didn’t give that guy my number.”

And when you say it with a slightly guilty tone, a laugh rumbles deep from his chest. He doesn’t care, because that little white lie led him to finally say ‘fuck it’ and claim you.

The feeling you erupt in his chest is foreign and it scares him shitless— but with the weight of you in his arms, he knows he’ll do anything to keep you.