#i couldn’t not draw them okay

[mad-c1oud]

More sneak peeks and fun facts!! :3

If you’re reading my fic immi, I mentioned a set of axes made for Charlie by Étoiles. I learned about airplane crash axes in my research and they just felt so… right.

First image are generic versions and the second image is what inspired the idea of “slime axes”. Been working on my idea of them off and on and I have finally finished some charms for one of them and wanted to share!!!

Above are the axes One Fish and Two Fish! They are very rough <3

(Called them that to help differentiate them in the text until I could pick a better name but it just stuck… yes the other set are called exactly what you think)

[doctorsiren]

My favourite detectives <3

[badly-gravity-blog]

Wooohoo !! Monster x Reverse Falls au with ultra dupa new lore.

[1/2] — Because next up is ; Stan, Ford, Pacifica anddd Gideon ! Link here when it happens.

I’ll add more info under the cut but here are the basics —

Mason -> Tufted Deer

Mason ‘Dipper’ Gleeful was taken in along side his twin sister by Stan Gleeful. Together with Mabel, they help Stan with attractions.

Mabel -> Caecalia

Mabel ‘Ursa’ Gleeful has a lot of trouble getting around, as such where her and her brother lives, the floor and certain walls are made out glass filled with water to allow for safe travel.

Will -> Elf

William Cipher, also nicknamed Will, is an Elf who was enrolled by ‘pressure’ to work for the twins and help them with their deeds. Behind the meek/shy appearance, he’s not very nice or kind.

I had SO much trouble figuring out a coherent storyline….

But here’s what I figured out so far !

Human and fantastic creatures are far from living in harmony; some of the creatures have made their own town cut off from the rest of the population.

One of the only towns is named Gravity Falls. It’s very diverse !

Gideon and Pacifica Southeast are childhood friends, Pacifica having acted as the one Gideon could rely on for the longest time.

Gideon is a phantom, while Pacifica is an unicorn.

Ursa and Dipper are the main event of the town, living in a previously abandoned mansion that was restored and rebuilt by Stan Gleeful.

Ursa is nicknamed that due to matching with her twin — ‘Ursa major’ being a constellation.

While twins, they’re from different species ; their creations was artificial.

Will is…. Well I can’t say he’s planning nothin !!

PS : if you have any questions, go ahead ! It helps with worldbuilding and characters <3

[yayswag]

“St. Lucy of Syracuse—eyeless, sightless, and carrying her baby blues on a platter, two ripe, round grapes like I’d put on a dish on Halloween when I was nine and I’d make my 10 year old boyfriend put his fingers into it and I tell him, ‘They’re my dogs’, can’t you tell? I pulled ‘em out today just for you.’ And right there on the spot he’d confess his undying love to me.” (excerpt from patty chang’s melons)

[riwooga]

DOL npcs part 6, Monster edition 👀✨

This…..took years off my life 🥲

It was really a struggle of figuring out how humanoid vs monstrous they each should be, but I tried to find a good balance! 🤧

Can I also just say that the Night Monster is severely underrated I cannot stress enough how much I want to romance them 😩💕💕💕

…and here are the close ups 👀✨

[kozidraws]

.

[rainee-chu]

It’s literally 1am and I CANNOT stop thinking about narnia SOMEBODY SAVE ME

[detective-piplup]

luker or something are you happy now tumblr

[mossy-paws]

saw ur requests post!! do u think you could draw some rocket and boombox? :3 maybe at the pet store or something cool? :]> ty!!

Blue Gatorade flavored

[sochilll]

A look in Jared Kleinman’s phone

[sheltershock]

Sasha and Milla Magazine Headcanons

These are headcanons, obviously.

The pair having their missions published in True Psychic Tales Magazine was always a possibility due to a paragraph in their employment contract saying that the organization is allowed to sell their likeness and experiences for monetization purposes. At least they get an extremely small cut of the royalties. True Psychic Tales expected the Sasha and Milla issues to be popular, after all, you got a cool guy in sunglasses who can shoot things with his mind and a hot girl. But surprisingly, their issues are extremely popular with girls. Turns out having a cool woman who goes on missions who’s always one step ahead towards danger and seems to be more included in leadership between the two makes for a great female role model! 

Naturally, Milla gets recognized more in public, with young women and girls sheepishly walking up asking, “are you Ms. Vodello?” To which she’d turn to them with a smile, striking a cool pose and thank them for using her “undercover name, afterall, we wouldn’t want to blow my cover as an Agent, yes?” “Yes, Ma’am!” 

Milla loves meeting her fans in public. She's perfected her signature for autographs, and is excited to see what issue the girls present to her as their favorite for her to sign. She does also get a decent amount of male fans approaching her in the public too, and she’ll happily sign their magazine issues as well. When Milla started getting fanmail she excitedly went out and bought a corkboard so she could proudly display the letters along with the True Psychic Tales issues she and Sasha were in. She put a lot of effort into the decorations and display and titled the corkboard, “My Adventures.” 

Sasha is far less popular than Milla, in True Psychic Tales at least. Sasha is popular in his own right, but mostly through interviews, research publications and released studies. He has a primarily adult audience in a professional setting. He’s happy with that too, he mostly doesn’t get approached in public by appearance, only by name, and he’ll be happy to talk about whatever research the fan was interested in. Only a handful of times was he approached because of True Psychic Tales, and a couple of times in those scenarios he actually pretended to not know what they were talking about and insisted that they have the wrong person. The only exception to that is when he gets approached in public with Milla, and at that point he’s recognized because they’re together. He’ll sign magazine issues with her, but they both know that Milla is the popular one, and they’re both okay with that fact. Actually, with how little Sasha autographs True Psychic Tales magazines, he’s accidentally created rare collector’s items of issues with both Milla’s and his signatures on them. 

Sasha actually forgets he’s in True Psychic Tales because he thinks about it so little and doesn’t get approached very often. The only times he remembers is when other agents bring up their own issues, or that one time when Milla asked him to write to the magazine because they wanted to change her dresses to be lower cut in the illustrations to appeal more to male audiences. True Psychic Tales received quite bulky letters from the pair that could be categorically considered more as essays on why it’s a terrible idea artistically, morally, ethically, educationally, and from both a marketing standpoint from the magazine and the Psychonauts to attempt to make Milla “more sexy.” They ended up keeping her original dresses in the illustrations. 

I think it would be funny that whenever Sasha meets a young fan he gets very confused why they’re a fan, but also respects them for reading academic psychology publications. And then he finds out that it's a True Psychic Tales fan and sometimes manages to talk them into reading the academic publications despite their age. A few that actually did go and read the academic publications ended up sending letters to Sasha through the Psychonauts Headquarters address asking clarification questions about the articles they read, and Sasha did actually write back responding to them. Correspondence kept up with even fewer who kept writing back and ended up going into similar career fields. These are the few True Psychic Tales fans Sasha actually likes meeting. He keeps the letters they send as mementos and goes back to read them whenever he’s feeling frustrated about an experiment or project. When Milla found out about the letters, she asked to see them and read through all of them, even the ones with a lot of technical jargon. When she finished with the collection, she asked “do you want to put these up with my letters?” And ever since that day the corkboard was relabelled to “Our Adventures.” 

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

I know that the past.. god knows how long, we’ve been busy mutually brainrotting about Kuviren, but when I was deciding what to draw for you, the fungus decided to give some love to the adorable and unfairly underappreciated Green Opal))

Main train of thought was – I’ve designed what Suiren would look like post-SotRL, so how about Midori? And then I decided to try Opal too bc I really should practise drawing her more often (I think she goes through a phase where she has an immense aversion to wearing green as it reminds her too much of her mom and Zaofu, so she opts for something more airbender-esque. I think she might be the only person in existence to pull off orange this well). And once I realised I wanted to draw Opal, it only made sense to draw them together

Anyways.. design notes time!

If Suiren’s main post-SotRL thing is allowing herself to be softer and more relaxed – lighter shades of blue, less practical and more airy dresses, etc. – then Midori is a bit of the opposite. She’s gained a lot of self confidence and I wanted her new design to reflect that. Which is to say-

SHE GETS TATTOOS LIKE HER DAD. Not like, all over, but on her forearms to start off with. She spent so long disconnected from her bending and heritage that it only felt right to honour it this way, they call them ‘lavabending mastery tattoos’ as an inside joke. And, well, when I was doodling designs for what I have dubbed the ‘Dead Mom Club’, it came to be that Midori’s paternal grandmother had those tattoos too, so I guess it’s now a family thing :)

When she needs to hide the tattoos, she has armbands that go over them. Red, the same shade her auntie wears))

Gets more muscular as she trains in her bending and eventually forgoes the open shirt she always wore overtop everything else. Opal gets to unabashedly stare, Midori gets to feels the sun on her skin, it’s a win-win situation, really.

Changes from a tank top to something similar but a bit more practical, too

Same pants though, they’re comfy

Hair no longer loose and not getting in her face as much. The brushing it over her forehead and tying off at the back is inspired by her auntie, it’s not visible but it’s tied off into a ponytail as reference to Suiren, and the fact it’s technically a half-up-half-down style counts as a nod to her mom. What, did you think she only took after her dad?

Overall though she’s still a bit of an awkward bean who gets easily flustered by her girlfriend’s affections. Though apparently, looking at Suiren’s reactions to being called pretty, that runs in the family ;)

[aquatic-batt]

uhhhh draw ur baby girl like this or whatever

[ellameloetta]

bro i just love being harassed because i heavily referenced an art piece. i love being referred to as “stupid” and being insulted. i love people coming at me so hard for simply redrawing someone else’s piece in my style.

it’s cool. it’s really cool.

[hayleyolivia]

Honestly, the struggle is real. Here’s my meager contribution to the ongoing science experiment —

There's a special pain that comes from not knowing how to make your long-snouted dog people kiss properly.

[imaginedisish]

Lover, You Should've Come Over (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Get ready to cry. This is based on a request I received yesterday where the reader gets jealous of Jean. I tried to take this in a different direction just because I feel like this is a popular trope that has been done by many fantastic writers. It's also inspired by "Lover, You Should've Come Over," by Jeff Buckley. Hope you guys enjoy.

Summary: You've been pining after Logan since you joined the X-Men, and you're convinced he'll never love you back. He’s obsessed with Jean—always has been. Or...maybe he's not.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV (unprotected...pls WRAP IT UP THIS IS FICTION!), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, f!reader/afab!reader, telepathic!reader, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan (kinda? yeah.), non-canon compliant (you'll see what I mean...no spoilers), cursing, angst, feelings, implied mutant trauma (kinda a given in X-Men), probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,197 sorry

Wanting someone you can’t have—it’s that crying in the shower, pulling your legs into your chest, screaming into your pillow kind of heartache. You’ve come to know the feeling intimately. It’s an awful, horrid, stomach-churning kind of pain.

But you want him. Despite all the pain, you want him. Logan Howlett. You can’t seem to keep him off your mind. For the few months you’ve been one of the X-Men, Logan has been a constant. He’s always there—whether it’s to train or just to talk. But you know he’ll never want you. You see the way he looks at Jean. You wish you didn’t. You wish you were oblivious to that sort of thing. But you don’t need to use your telepathy to reach inside his mind for proof—you just know. 

You keep holding on, savoring every moment, every interaction you have with Logan. You sit on the lawn of the mansion with him, watching the sunset. You’ll come down to the living room late at night to find him sitting in front of the T.V. and join him. Sometimes he’ll drape an arm around your shoulder. He’ll draw circles into your side as you drift off. You’ll wake up the next morning back in your bed, Logan having carried you there long after you’ve fallen asleep. 

You’ve decided you’ll take all he’ll give you, even if it means nothing to him—even if it's platonic. 

But tonight, you wish something would come up through the floor and swallow you whole. A void, a black hole maybe. That would do the trick. Disappearing would make everything so much easier. The second-best thing to disappearing is sitting in the kitchen of the mansion, alone, with a pint of ice cream. You decide to practice your powers, moving the silver spoon with your mind, concentrating as you dig the spoon into the top of the pint and into your mouth. 

You hear a warm, familiar chuckle from the doorway as the spoon lands on your tongue. You look up, and there’s Logan, arms tucked across his chest. “Wish I could do that.”

You can’t help but smile around the spoon as he strides over to you, taking a seat on the stool next to yours. You slide the spoon out of your mouth and rest it on the napkin next to the ice cream. “Hey,” you mutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

His shoulder brushes against yours. He’s so close it hurts. You try to shove the pain down and enjoy the moment. 

“Was hoping I’d run into you down here. Thought maybe you’d be in bed already,” Logan says, his eyes locked on yours. 

You shake your head, doing your best to keep that fake smile plastered on your face. “Couldn’t sleep.” 

You can see the sudden concern appear on his face. “Everything okay?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. Fuck, you think to yourself. Maybe he’s catching on. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, looking down at the ice cream. “Just still having a hard time adjusting.” It wasn’t a lie. You had always struggled with your powers, longing to hide, to shove them down. Your whole life, you were either a freak or something to be used—whatever was most convenient in the moment. The struggle between visibility and forcing yourself to be “normal” was an impossible battle. You were no stranger to being taken advantage of or being experimented on.

Logan was the first person who understood that—understood you. He made you feel seen in a way that no one ever had. It’s part of the reason you’ve fallen so hard for him. 

His hand is suddenly on your back, yanking you from your thoughts and back to reality. “I’m here,” he whispers. “Whatever you need, anything.” 

Anything. You wish he really meant it. 

“Thanks, Lo.” You smile up at him, letting your eyes linger on his lips for just a second before looking back down at the ice cream. “Want some?” You ask, nodding at the pint. 

“Only if you feed it to me the way you did when I walked in.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he taps the spoon. You side-eye him incredulously. “I mean it. Wanna see you do it again.” There’s a husk in his voice, a shift in his timber that sends a chill down your spine. You try not to think about it too much as you pick up the spoon with your mind. 

You guide the spoon inside the pint, scraping the top, and lifting it up towards Logan’s mouth. He opens wide as you lead the spoon inside, his tongue hitting the bottom as his lips close around it. The implications of the moment don’t dawn on you until he’s grabbing the spoon with his hands and sucking on the metal. There’s something undeniably suggestive about this. 

Heat rises to your chest as you replay the image of him taking the spoon into his mouth in your mind. It’s so intimate, so domestic. And, certainly, something else—something that makes you tick, that makes that familiar fire grow deep within your belly. 

But—like always—the moment doesn’t last long. You wince, feeling someone itching against your thoughts, prodding at your mental shields, begging to be let in. Suddenly, there’s another voice in your mind. 

I gotta try that myself. You flinch at the sound, taking the spoon from Logan’s hand and shooting it across the room to where you sense the person’s presence. You turn around, and there’s Jean, resisting the spoon’s trajectory with her mind. 

It's almost pressing into her skull, shaking in mid-air, ready to break her skin. You gasp and drop the spoon, embarrassed to have registered her as a threat. “I’m so sorry,” you say, watching as Jean crouches down and picks up the spoon. “I didn’t know that was you in there, I swear.”

You expect Logan to stand from the chair and rush over to Jean, but he stays next to you, glued to your side, the palm of his hand resting gently on your back. “Jean.” His voice is firm, almost cold and harsh. “What was that?” You’re surprised at how curt he’s being with her, surprised he remembered that you’re sensitive to people probing around your mind, even if it’s friendly. 

Jean mutters a curse. “I was just communicating with her. I didn’t think she’d—” 

Logan stands, his hand still steady at your back. “Don’t do that again. Ever.” His voice is louder now, heavier. 

She whispers an apology, setting the spoon on the counter and walking towards the doorway. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says. “I should’ve remembered given your…” she pauses, searching for the word, “past…that it wouldn’t be a good idea.” She takes another tentative step. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she says, and she slips out. 

Logan settles back into the stool next to you. You’re shocked that he’s still here, that he hasn’t run away yet. You can hear him breathe—in and out—gentle, long breaths. You close your eyes and listen, the sound calming you down. You’re still expecting him to leave, to walk away, but he doesn’t. 

“You okay?” He asks, your eyes fluttering open, his voice hanging in the air. His head is tilted to the side, worry painted across his face. 

“Y-yeah. I’m fine,” you stutter, your voice cracking. “You don’t have to stay with me. You can go check on her if you want.” You nod towards the doorway—to wherever Jean wandered off to. 

“And why would I do that?” Is all he says in return, furrowing his brows. 

You put on that fake smile again. “I almost jammed a spoon into her forehead because she spoke to me telepathically.” You shake your head. “Don’t really think my reaction was particularly friendly—or something that good people do.” You break eye contact with Logan and look to the other side of the kitchen. “Plus, you two are…close.”

“Hey.” His voice is firm again, but gentle this time, reassuring. His hand slips across your back and rests on your waist. You’re so shocked by the contact that you almost miss what he says. “First of all, she knows better. Charles warned her about what you’ve been through. And second…” He trails off, smirking at you. “I’d rather be with you.”

Oh? Oh. He’d rather be with you. 

“I just thought, you know, you and Jean were…” You’re too embarrassed to finish the sentence and too nervous to hear him say the words you’ve been dreading most. 

He shakes his head, that smirk still spread across his lips. “No, it’s not Jean I want. Never has been.” 

Your breathing becomes shaky—your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “If it’s not Jean, then—” 

Logan cuts you off as he suddenly moves. His arm lifts from your waist as he stands, turning your stool around so your back is against the cold countertop. He’s gripping the arms of the stool now, caging you in. Your mind is hazy—you can’t concentrate with him this close. 

“You think I do the shit I do with you with Jean too, hm?” He’s towering over you, his head cocking to the side, his voice self-assured and confident. “Think I’m watching movies and sunsets with her? Carrying her to bed, too?” 

You’re overwhelmed, dizzied by his words, his size, him. “Just thought that—”

“Just thought what?” He cuts you off again. “That I didn’t want you, darlin’?” He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, one hand moving from the counter to your hip. “Wanted you this whole time,” he huffs, goosebumps rising on your arms. “Only you.” He presses a kiss to your ear, and then just underneath your jaw. 

“Logan,” you whisper. “W-want you too,” you choke out, your hands coming up and around his back. “B-but someone’s gonna walk in on us.” 

He’s ignoring you, biting your pulse point lightly and licking the pain away. “Let them,” he husks, refusing to stop. You instinctively bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, your nails digging in slightly. He groans at the contact, his chest heaving against yours. 

“One of the kids is catch us in here, or somebody else,” you mutter, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. “W-we should—”

“Go to my room.” He finishes your thought. 

“Please.” 

And then he’s picking you up from the chair, his hands under your thighs, grabbing your ass. You wrap your legs around his waist as he prowls out of the kitchen. He looks both ways as he crosses the hallway and makes his way to the stairs. There’s no one in sight. He carries you up the steps and down the hall to his room, practically breaking down the door as he swings it open and slams it shut. 

And then he’s laying you down on his bed, crawling over you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Wanted you in here sooner,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours. “Hoped you’d come over one night. You should’ve.”

His lips crash down onto yours before you can find the words to say. He’s starving for you, swallowing your moans as his hands slip under your shirt, his nails digging lightly into your sides. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps against your lips. Everything is desperate and rushed, hands pawing at bare skin in the dim light of his room. 

Logan tugs on the hem of your shirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the side as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He curses under his breath, looking you up and down. 

“Logan,” you whine, arching your back. You need his hands on you again, his lips. Something. Anything. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, his fingers hooking inside the waistband of your shorts. “Gonna take care of you.” He yanks them down your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties. 

He pulls off his own shirt, tossing it carelessly, letting it get lost on the floor. He settles back down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand finds your waist. He slides up to the bottom of your bra, teasingly pulling on the fabric before slipping his hand behind your back—skillfully unclasping the bra with one easy motion. You arch your back again, the bra straps sliding down your arms as Logan tosses the bra to the floor, too. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, his hand tracing the curves of your breasts, massaging gently. “Perfect.” He captures your lips in another kiss as his thumb ghosts over your nipples, just barely giving you the relief you need before pinching softly. The pressure feels so good, so right, but it’s not enough. 

He draws circles around your nipples with his thumb, the sensation feeding the aching fire between your legs. Your hips involuntarily lift off the mattress, meeting his. “Need me that bad, huh?” He is always so incredibly cocky, even now—especially now. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and what to do next. 

Logan grinds his erection into your core. You can feel how big he is, the weight of him heavy against your cunt even in his jeans. You clench around nothing, whining his name as his strained cock teases your panty-clad pussy. “You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, biting your lips as his hand leaves your tits and sweeps down your stomach, stopping just above your clit. He slides his fingers down just a bit more, feeling where your arousal seeps through your panties. 

“Already soaking for me, sweetheart.” The bassy timber of his voice stokes that flame deep within your belly. Without warning, he’s hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your legs. “Can’t wait anymore, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Wanna taste this pussy.” He kisses your belly button, leaving a trail down the rest of your stomach as his mouth travels to where you need him most. 

There’s something depraved about the way he’s crawling down your body, taking in every inch of you. He spreads your legs apart with the palms of his hands—his thumbs brushing against your bare skin, licking teasingly at your inner thighs as he settles in between them. 

He pauses, looking at you under hooded eyes. You can see the want—no, the need—in the way his muscles flex and how he works his jaw. But he’s hesitating, his breath hot against your core, sending another jolt of desire through your body. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your eyes searching his for his next move. 

He finally presses a kiss to your clit. “You don’t understand how you make me feel,” he mumbles against your heat, licking a long stripe through your folds and back to your clit. “No idea how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” You throw your head back, whimpering his name as he laps again and again. He’s starving, and you’re the only thing that can satiate his hunger. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking it, taking it in between his lips and sucking hard. 

Your hips lift off the mattress and Logan quickly moves to hold them down. “You’re not going anywhere, darlin’,” he grunts against you, the vibration of his voice going straight to your core. 

His free hand slips up the inside of your thighs, teasingly climbing higher and higher, his nails skimming your flesh. He’s toying with you, leading you on, taking his time. His fingers finally ghost over your folds, exploring you, stroking up and down as his tongue laps at your cunt. 

Logan prods your entrance with two fingers, slipping in just a bit, testing the waters. “Please,” you beg, pushing your hips down in an attempt to sink his fingers deeper into you. He stops you, his hand still firmly holding your hips down, refusing to give you the release you’re dying for. 

“So fucking impatient, aren’t you?” He tuts. And then he’s shoving two fingers all the way inside you, down to his knuckles. “Such a pretty pussy.”

“F-fuck!” You cry out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he sets a relentless pace. He’s drinking you in, sucking roughly, his long fingers pumping in and out with a vengeance. 

“’This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks condescendingly in between laps. You’re too fucked out to form a sentence, your legs trembling underneath him. You know he’s loving this—loving that you’re a wet, needy, whimpering mess. 

Your walls squeeze around his fingers, your swollen clit throbbing as he laps at you. You’re so close already. “Lo,” you call out, fisting the sheets of his bed. Everything in here smells like him: pine and mint and musk and tobacco and that thing that’s uniquely Logan. It’s all so overwhelming and overstimulating. You’re ready to fall apart, to melt into nothingness. “S-so close.”

He squeezes your hip. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothes, his pace unwavering as his fingers fuck into you, scissoring inside you, drawing you closer to your climax with that come-hither motion he does so well. Your walls flutter again. “That’s it,” he coos. “Wanna feel you come—wanna know what it tastes like.” He licks harder, faster. “Let go for me, darlin’.” 

He pushes you over the edge, pleasure warming your belly as you let go. It washes over you in waves, his fingers still pumping in and out, his tongue still hanging on to the taste of you. You ride it out, his thumb brushing your hip, coaxing you through it. His fingers slip out of your cunt, but his head is still buried between your legs. You shudder as he licks long, slow stripes through your folds. 

“So fucking sweet,” he growls, still starving for more. “Not done with you yet.”

Fuck. 

But you need more—need his cock deep inside you, pounding into you. You need him in front of you, his lips on yours. 

“Logan,” you whine, your voice shaky and trembling just like the rest of your body. He finally lifts his head, his hair a disheveled mess, your juices glistening on his lips and his chin. The sight of him makes your breath hitch in your throat. There’s a feral, needy look in his eyes. He’s starving for more of you, and you’re not quite sure he’ll ever get enough. 

But he can see your chest heaving and the desire in your own eyes. He knows what you need—he always does. He sits up on his knees, staring at you while he slowly unbuckles his belt. The tension is palpable, the clinking of his belt against the hardwood floors cutting through it like a hot knife—the only sounds the melding of your quick breaths and the shuffling of bed sheets as Logan finally comes up to meet you. 

He's balancing on his forearm as he unbuttons his jeans, undoing the zipper and shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs. You swallow at the sight of his cock springing against his stomach. You had felt his erection before, but he is far bigger than you ever anticipated. 

With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself in between your thighs. You instinctually spread your legs for him, inviting him in. He nudges against your entrance, taking his time. 

His forehead meets yours, your chests flush against each other’s, panting in sync. You’re both waiting with bated breath, his tip slipping inside, but stopping short before going any farther. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Thought I’d never have you,” he confesses, pushing his tip a bit further in. “Would’ve given up anything for this. Would’ve waited forever.”

“You don’t have to,” you murmur.  “I’m right here. I’m yours.” 

“Mine?”

“All yours.”

And then he’s pushing deep inside you, down to the hilt, bottoming out. He swallows your moans with a kiss, biting your lip, drawing blood, and licking it away. “All fucking mine.” He stays buried inside you, unmoving. “Wanna stay inside you forever, sweetheart,” he growls, your heart bursting at the thought.

He pulls himself all the way out and all the way back in, stretching you out, working you open. You look down in between your bodies and watch as his cock disappears inside of you. “Feels s-so fucking good,” you stammer, already drunk off him. 

“Like watching me fuck into you?” Logan husks, picking up his pace, his hips snapping into yours. 

“Y-yes,” you whimper. His muscles flex as he ruts into you. He takes the hand that was on his cock and brings it in between your bodies, his fingertips quickly finding your clit and giving it a soft pinch. Your back arches off the mattress at the sensation. 

Logan hums at your reaction. “So sensitive,” he groans. “Taking me so good, sweetheart.” You can feel him losing control as he rams into you, his thrusts growing harder with each pump of his cock. He’s drawing firm, fast circles into your core. 

It’s all too much, him, his cock, his fingers. Your skin is on fire, your nipples pushing against his chest—the friction absolutely delicious. You’re already so close, just a few steps away from the ledge, and you’re ready to fall. 

“Know you’re close, darlin’,” Logan moans in between kisses. “Can feel you squeezing me.” 

You hum in response, but Logan refuses to let up. His pace is beyond brutal, pounding into you over and over again, his fingers working your clit in tandem. Your muscles contract around him, gripping tightly. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “So fucking tight, so fucking warm.” His praises are more than you can handle. “You gonna come on my cock, just like this?” 

“Yes, fuck, Logan!” You’re a babbling mess, his name the only thing on your mind, on your lips, hanging in the air like it’s a sacred prayer. Everything is him, and it always has been. In this moment and in every other, he is your end and your beginning. 

 “Let go for me, sweetheart. Know you can do it for me.” His deep voice is all you need to walk you through it. You’re breaking down, coming on his cock, the pleasure coursing through your veins, spreading like an untamable fire. 

He’s stroking your clit long after you’ve come, still snapping his hips into yours, still working up towards his own orgasm. His pace is getting sloppier, but he shows no signs of stopping. You can feel yourself growing overstimulated, his cock rubbing against your walls, his fingers circling your clit. “S’too much,” you whine, your nails digging into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

Logan presses himself closer to you, as close as he possibly can be. “You’ve got one more in you, sweetheart,” he coaxes, not letting up. “Know you can take it.”

You’re breathless, clinging onto him helplessly. You’re clamping down on him again, taking him deeper than you did before. He’s hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. “Lo,” you whimper. “I’m gonna—”

“I know, darlin’,” he grunts. You can feel him throbbing inside you. “Let it happen, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” 

The tension is snapping again, breaking in half as he pulls another orgasm from you. You shudder as you come for a third time, overstimulated and beyond fucked out. You know he’s close behind, his hips slowing down, his forehead pressed against yours. He slips his hand away from your clit and around your back, pulling you closer to his chest. It’s so intimate, so perfect. 

“F-fuck,” he mumbles. “Where do you want me to—”

You hold him closer. “Stay,” you whisper. “Want you inside. Wanna feel you come.”

“Oh fuck,” he mutters, plunging deep inside you, his muscles tensing as he fills you up, your name on his lips. His thrusts slow, pumping in and out every now and then before finally stopping. 

You stay like this for a few minutes, his arm keeping you tight against his chest, his cock still buried inside you and your foreheads still pressed together. 

He brings a hand up to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. You sigh, your eyes fluttering open and closed. 

He shakes his head. “I always wanted you,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “The whole time. It was only ever you.” 

His words could make you cry. It’s everything you’ve ever hoped to hear. You smile, his hand finding its way to the crook of your neck, his fingers lightly stroking your sensitive skin. “Can’t believe I didn’t see it,” you breathe, your voice laden with sleepiness. “I never knew. Thought you’d never want me.”

“I’ll always want you.” His cock finally slips out of you, leaving you feeling empty. His legs tangle with yours, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Would’ve waited forever for you, darlin’.”

“Forever?”

“Longer.”